His light was off, though, so I assumed he’d gone to bed.
The light in Arael’s room was on, but when I reached the door, I hesitated again. I couldn’t understand, or explain to myself, exactly why I was suddenly feeling nervous about seeing him, but I knocked anyway, and when he opened the door and I saw him without a shirt on, realization kicked in.
Arael was a big, muscular guy, his body covered in rigid bumps and grooves. All manner of tattoos decorated his skin; along his arms, around his neck—near his waistline. He had a perfect V that dipped into the band of the grey sweatpants he was wearing. I couldn’t help but notice the little tuft of red fur creeping up toward his belly button, or the bulge of his—
“—hey,” he said, rubbing his hand against the back of his neck. “That’s funny.”
“What is?” I asked, drawing my eyes up.
“I was just thinking about you.”
“You… were?”
“I mean…” he gestured to his room, which was just as empty and as quiet as mine. “It’s not like there’s much to do in here besides think.
He’s beautiful.
I couldn’t help but stare at him, at the green of his eyes, the fullness of his lips, the lines of his jaw, his horns, his red hair. There was so much of Arael to take in, everywhere I looked was a surprise, some new feature waiting to be discovered, or explored. I shook my head to clear it, to dislodge the sudden influx of stimuli preventing me from thinking clearly.
“Yeah, I guess so.” I paused. “Can I come in?”
Arael stepped aside. “Sure.”
Nodding, I let myself into his room. He had set the t-shirt he had been wearing down on the bed, but besides that, there was nothing else to his room. It was identical to the one I had just come from, possibly minus the bullet hole, and give or take a couple of invisible stains. I sat down on the edge of his bed and ran my hands across my face.
Arael shut the door. “You okay?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I said.
He walked over to me and sat down—not on the bed, but on the floor in front of me, cross-legged. He pulled wild strands of his red hair out of his face, then fixed his green eyes on me. Instantly, I had his full attention, and I knew it.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“I didn’t know Warriors doubled as therapists?” I said.
“Aren’t therapists just good listeners?”
“I’m pretty sure there’s a lot more to it than that… but sure, listening is part of what they do.”
“Well, I’m a good listener. Hit me.”
I paused, looking down at him. “I mean, obviously I’m worried about Dagon. We all are, right?”
Arael nodded. “I am. But maybe not as worried as you are.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because I know Dagon. I’ve known him for a very, very long time. He can handle himself—he has handled himself. He’s probably on his way back to us right now or working on a way to get back to us. Just have a little faith.”
“I lost my faith a long time ago. Long before She died.”
“I know. I wasn’t being literal. I just mean, I know he’ll get back to us. Not because I can sense him or anything, but because he’s Dagon. He’s fine.”
He said that with a kind of smooth, lazy smile that I envied and didn’t think I could mimic, no matter how hard I tried. I was too serious. Too tightly wound. In my defense, I had just crawled out of Hell and into an even worse place. I realized then why I was truly here, what I actually wanted to talk about.
“When you fell…” I said. “You fell with other people beside you, right?”
“Kind of. I mean, we all fell together, all at once.”
“Which means you had people around you to help figure things out?”
Arael’s head bobbed to the left and right. “Well… I mean, God had died, and we could all feel her death as actual, brutal, physical pain. I had never felt anything like that, and I don’t think I ever will. My point is, we were all a little too caught up in that to stop and discuss what had happened. That didn’t come until much later.”
I nodded. “I guess, I don’t know what I’m doing here. Like, I don’t know why I’m here—not really—and now that I’m here, and knowing what I possibly have inside of me, I can’t help but find myself trying to figure