"It's going to be okay," she says. "We can get through this."
A painful lump in my throat forms. Does she believe in this? In us? There are so many questions ricocheting inside my skull, but I can't seem to ask any of them without looking pathetic.
I know that she wants this, but I actually feel connected to her. All I want to hear is that she still feels that connection too. I need her to trust me.
I say the opposite of what I believe. "You're right. Lucifer is more important. Look - the Westlake Cemetery is right there," I say, pointing at the entrance outside of the car window.
"Looks empty," Heimdall mutters.
I keep my eyes peeled for any sudden movement, but he's right. It looks completely deserted. I told them to come here because I had a hunch we would find the artist that designed the angel statues. Finding him means understanding the angels' true powers.
At least, that's what I hoped. Now, I'm not so sure.
The Westlake Cemetery was built near a massive swamp. The darkest, green moss has grown on every gravestone, clawing around every tree until dropping into the marsh itself. A sliver of light shines in the horizon, but the trees are so big that it still feels like night.
I step out of the car and walk through the entrance, holding the rolled-up map inside my palms. I weave around the first row of graves, shining a light on the names I can't read. Nothing of importance is popping up.
"You see anything?" Loki asks.
So far, there is no tombstone with the name Clyde Grimwald. For some reason, I imagined a monolith placed right in the center of the graveyard. Unfortunately, there is no angel in sight.
Already, I'm lost. I know it, but if I turn around now, our crew will start to question the validity of our destiny. I need to keep us all together. Instead, I keep walking.
Deep into the endless rows of aged and shattered tombstones, I go. That is, until I see a small cabin at the back end of the muddy yard.
"There we go," I mutter to myself.
All three of my companions run to catch up, their boots squishing down into the thick layers of mud. "Where are you taking us?" Loki asks.
I point at the cabin. There's a dull light that shines within the window, so I know that someone has just been here. As I reach the door, I don't slow down. I turn the knob and pull it open. I come face to face with...
Nothing.
There is a thin table and some tools for carving tombstones, but that's it. No papers. No clues. Just... nothing.
I sit down and take a breath. The light above shines, leading me to believe that someone was here at some point, but it could have been weeks ago. I hate to even think this, but there's a major part of me that feels disillusioned.
I drop my head into my palms. "I'm sorry, everyone. I thought we'd find our answers here. I really did."
"Hey, bud. It's okay," Loki says.
If Loki is being nice, I know something is up. I don't need any pity. I just need some answers.
"I'm not a demon," I say.
It's a funny statement, but no one is laughing. Judging by the way they're staring, I guess that they probably think I am.
They keep a steady distance. Even Raven, the woman I'm falling in love with.
It stings like no other pain.
"We believe you," Heimdall finally says.
I stand aggressively and walk out of the cabin. "Nice to have you on my side," I say.
We exit the graveyard in silence, but we're all thinking the same thing. We came to find out more about the angels. For some reason, I thought this place would bring some real answers.
There is nothing here except the dead. Rows upon rows of unmarked graves remind me of everything I lack. It also reminds me of the love I am not allowed to receive.