Chapter Thirty-Two

Seth

The sun shone brilliantly the day of Seth’s funeral, with only a few wispy clouds in the azure sky. It looked like it was crisp and cold; not that he could feel those sensations anymore. Although he hadn’t wanted to, Seth allowed Dante to encourage him to go to the cemetery. It seemed morbid, watching himself be buried. On the other hand, someone had to give him a send-off, so it might as well have been him and Dante.

It had been two long weeks since police led the Doctor away in handcuffs. Because the witch had been charged with Seth’s murder and that of Dr. Carmichael, the DA argued that he not be granted bail. From their brief conversations with Cal, Seth knew they were building a much bigger case against him. His death was trivial compared to the crimes the Doctor had committed.

Seth and Dante enjoyed every second together, as though each one might be their last. Dante had taken him to places he’d only ever dreamed of visiting, from the Taj Mahal in India, to the lush landscape of Hawaii and the Egyptian pyramids. In those two weeks, they’d traversed the world and seen so many wondrous things, that Seth was left reeling from the magnificence of it all. But the best part of the experience had been sharing it with Dante: the conversations and quiet moments simply spent holding hands; the slow lingering kisses; watching sunsets and sunrises side by side, in quiet contemplation. Seth missed out on so much when he’d been alive. He’d never truly lived, and he certainly hadn’t loved.

“What are you doing here?” Dante growled as they arrived at the cemetery to find Killian already there.

The haughty, flaxen-haired angel gave them a curt smile. “You know why I’m here.” He fixed his callous, frigid gaze on Seth. “It’s time, Seth. You need to come with me to the crossroads now, before you can no longer make the choice.”

“He doesn’t need to go anywhere with you,” Dante said. “Go away, Killian. You’re not welcome here. Especially not today.”

Killian laughed. “Are you still filling his head with thoughts of ascension, Dante? It hasn’t happened, has it? Are you really so desperate to cling onto him, that you’re willing to let him lose himself?”

“That won’t happen,” Dante said through gritted teeth.

“It is happening. Even you’re not that blind, Dante,” Killian said. “Let him go.”

Seth shivered. He knew he was slipping away. He could feel it a little more each day. Sometimes, he was so confused that he couldn’t think clearly. In those moments, no matter how far away, he found himself drifting to the warehouse, even though his body was no longer there. It was like he was anchored to it—like that awful building was the only place his soul desired. He was terrified of losing himself, and perhaps that was what made him so determined to hold on.

Exposing the Doctor and helping guarantee his arrest, hadn’t been enough to allow Seth to transcend. What would; the Doctor’s conviction and incarceration for life? Hopefully, but that was still likely to be months away, and he doubted he could hold on to himself for that long, even with Dante’s help. He’d try though. Every day. He’d keep trying. It was all he could do. The one possibility he couldn’t face was that Killian was right and that it simply wasn’t his destiny, no matter what Dante said.

“It’s my choice,” Seth said. “I’m choosing to stay.”

Killian shook his head. “I’ve tried,” he hissed. “Over and over, I’ve tried to make you see sense. I have never tried to guide a soul so stubborn as you before.”

“Have you ever lost a soul before?” Seth asked.

Killian’s shoulders dropped a fraction. “Yes.” He lifted his chin. “It happens. I had hoped not to lose you. But I can see you’re too obsessed with Dante to make a sensible choice. He’s filled your mind with the belief that you can choose your own destiny, but you can’t. Your soul was never destined for ascension. Never. It’s time you accept that and allow yourself to move on.”

Seth shook his head. “No. I believe I can choose my path, whatever you say.”

Killian’s upper lip hooked into a snarl. “And you’re willing to risk eternity for that misguided belief?”

Seth nodded. “Yes.”

He would have felt more confident in his decision if he were able to take hold of Dante’s hand. He always felt more whole when he was in contact with Dante. Whether it was because he was solid, or because Dante’s touch was warm and comforting, he didn’t know.

“It’s time,” Dante said quietly, drawing Killian and Seth’s attention away from one another.

A lone priest had wandered to the prepared grave, beside which Seth’s coffin already sat. It was a simple coffin, made of plain, unvarnished wood. He hadn’t expected anything else. He’d had no savings and no one to pay for a funeral.

“This is it,” he whispered, for once glad that no one could see or hear him.

“Yes,” Killian agreed. “When your body is buried, that’ll be one less tie to your life, which will put you one step closer to becoming a restless soul forever. Don’t be a fool, Seth. Come with me now, while you still can.”

Seth squared his shoulders and moved away from Killian, toward the coffin, determined to see the funeral through to the bitter end. He was being buried alone, as he’d lived alone. Only now, in death, had he found the love and companionship he’d shunned for far too long.

The priest, who was holding a bible to his chest, looked up. Seth expected him to speak. Instead, he seemed to be waiting. Seth frowned. There was nothing to wait for. But as the moments dragged on, he chose to follow the somber man’s gaze to the edge of the graveyard.

Lacey trudged across the thick grass toward the grave, holding a folded newspaper in her hands. She wasn’t alone; far from it. Cal walked beside her, dressed in a conservative black suit. Seth almost laughed at the sight of the cop, as he tugged at his collar. He was obviously much more comfortable in the loose, scraggy clothing he’d been wearing while undercover.

Behind them, Seth saw Joe, the coffee truck owner. Over a dozen men and women followed behind, most dressed in tattered clothing from being on the streets for too long. But some were dressed more smartly. He recognized them all. They were people he’d helped and talked to after he’d gotten himself off the streets. Some were people who he’d slept and foraged alongside before that had happened. There were reporters with whom he’d worked and a couple of freelance photographers he’d enjoyed bantering with while they were angling to take photos of the same occasion.

Seth gaped at the crowd that gathered around his coffin. Cal stared right at him and nodded, though he could just as easily have been acknowledging Dante’s presence, as the angel had come to stand directly behind Seth.

“People loved you, Seth,” Dante said quietly. “You touched far more lives than you knew.”

Words refused to form in Seth’s mind. He floated forward and watched as Lacey placed the newspaper on the top of his coffin, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears. He looked down at the newspaper, not understanding until his gaze landed on a photo of himself. It was an old photo, from when he’d still been in foster care. The headline beside it read: Farewell to the unsung hero of the homeless. He couldn’t read anymore. If he could cry, tears would have been pouring freely down his cheeks. He began to back away, but another figure caught his attention. Lacey saw the man too.

“You’ve no right to be here, Nelson,” she snapped, storming over to him. She folded her arms and lifted her chin. “Leave.”

“I’ve just come to pay my respects,” Nelson said quietly.

“What do you know about respect?” Lacey demanded. She jabbed her finger against his chest. “You knew what happened to Seth and you left him to rot.”

Nelson hung his head. “I’m sorry. I’ve done what I can to put things right.”

He meant the photos. Shortly after the Doctor’s arrest, Nelson had handed the memory card over to the cops. Dante mentioning the newspaper editor, back in the warehouse, had landed Nelson in the shit. But he’d negotiated a deal with the police to keep himself out of jail. Seth was glad; Nelson’s family didn’t deserve to lose him, despite the mistakes he’d made.

Seth moved over to them both. He tried to put his hand on Lacey’s tense shoulder, but he slipped right through. She shivered at the ghostly contact, but looked no less angry.

“Let it go,” Seth whispered, close to her ear. “Don’t be mad at him. I’m not. Not anymore.

Her shoulders dipped and she dropped her arms to her sides. “Come on then,” she said in a deflated tone. “This isn’t the time to fight or make a scene.”

“Thank you,” Nelson said softly.

Lacey shook her head and walked back to the graveside, followed by Nelson. Seth frowned as he watched them go, wondering if somehow she’d heard his words. If she had, he was glad he’d been able to help her let go of some of her anger. That was all he’d ever wanted to do—help people.

He watched, overwhelmed, as the funeral transpired. It was short, the priest’s words brief and to the point. Cal said a few words, as did Lacey, before the coffin was lowered into the grave. Then, one by one, all those present picked up a handful of dirt and scattered it onto the top of the coffin. Seth felt and heard each thud of earth as though they were falling onto him. They made him feel like he mattered. And he realized he did. He had mattered to every person in front of him. In some way, he had touched their lives for the better. The thought made his soul swell.

“Are you alright?” Dante whispered.

“Yes.”

Choices stretched out before him. He might as well have been standing on the crossroads. He could see the hazy image of both cities, no longer diametrically opposed, but lying to his left and right. And in the center, there was a third option: the choice to remain and help those who needed him. It wasn’t a visual thing, more of a feeling.

“Maybe I was wrong,” Killian murmured, a mixture of awe, frustration, and annoyance in his voice.

Seth wasn’t sure when the angel had moved close to him, but for once, Killian’s presence didn’t make him shudder.

“It’s time to make your choice, Seth,” Killian said.

Seth did. With his head held high, he walked towards the destiny he had sought but hidden from himself. A destiny forged not in the things he’d done in death, but in those he’d done in life.

“Seth,” Dante’s voice was full of concern, a quiet whisper only for him to hear.

“It’s okay,” Seth said. He glanced around at Dante and smiled. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Dante said.

“Let him go,” Killian instructed. “You have to let him go.”

Seth walked forward, alone, but he didn’t feel like he was. He was lifted by Dante’s faith in him and the love of all those who had come to say farewell to him. With them behind him, he knew he was about to fly.

Everything fell away until he was floating in pure, brilliant light. He closed his eyes and energy crackled through his body, lifting him higher. Within his translucent chest, he saw a tiny red bud, which unfolded and unfurled into a beating heart. The sound thundered in his ears and kept him grounded as other organs grew. He watched, dumbfounded, as lungs and veins appeared, spreading out through his form like delicate branches.

Bones formed and he felt pain in unformed limbs as his skeleton materialized from nothingness. Next, muscles, tendons, and ligaments grew. Sinew formed to attach it all to his skeleton and through his pain he briefly wished he’d paid more attention in science classes in school. It was a strangely morbid thought, but one that kept him from panicking and screaming. It felt like he was watching a scene from a horror movie, only in reverse, as skin grew to cover the grizzly sight. His entire body burned. He wanted to curl up in a ball and sob, but his new body refused to answer the whims of his mind.

Then the pain subsided, allowing him to breathe freely. He felt heavy and numb, but he didn’t fall. First one, then a second finger twitched. He flexed both hands, opening and closing his fists. It was so simple, but the achievement chased away the desire to scream or cry, and Seth let out a loud laugh instead.

He’d barely regained control of his whole body, when fresh pain blossomed between his shoulder blades. His back arched and he felt something alien unfold and burst free of his flesh. He was light again, hovering. He glanced from side to side, his chin quivering as he saw the edges of a pair of massive, espresso-colored wings. Seth felt raw. But he couldn’t help being overcome with awe. He couldn’t quite believe what was happening—what had happened.

Tears of happiness cascaded down his face, as he felt the chill of air around him. The wind brushed against his skin, disturbing his hair like a long-lost lover’s caress. Perhaps it was because he hadn’t been able to feel these sensations, other than the times Dante had made him corporeal, but it was as though his sense of touch was heightened. He could feel every one of his nerve endings firing as the wind touched him. It was amazing. He could feel every rhythmic, subconscious beat of his wings, every rise and dip of his body, and the steady rhythm of a heart beating within his chest. Energy rushed through him, making him feel strong. Grinning, he inhaled, dragging cool air into his lungs simply because he could. He felt more than alive—he felt reborn.

Finally, he opened his eyes and the first thing he saw, was Dante.