Dark Angel (Casteel 2)

eyes with ice water, and very carefully I applied

makeup. Then, with no real words stashed in my brain to help him survive without me, I slipped through the maze. I knocked on Troy's blue door. There was no response, just as Tony had warned me there would be

none.

It was late now, about ten. There had never

been a more glorious evening. Birds snuggling down

for the night chirped and cheeped sleepily. Hundreds

of rose bushes wafted sweet perfume to tickle my

nostrils. Primroses and pansies glimmered beside his

blue door. Gardenia bushes waxed brightly in the

moonlight, their blossoms huge and almost blue. The

air was as soft as a lover's kiss, and he was inside,

shut away.

"Troy," I called as I opened his door and

hesitated on the threshold. "It's Heaven. I'm back. I'm

so sorry I fell ill and couldn't return on the day I

promised . ."

There was no response. There was no scent of

bread baking in the oven, or bread that had recently

been baked. The cottage was too still, too orderly,

frightening.

I ran to his bedroom, throwing open the door.

He lay on the bed, with his head turned toward the

open window. Soft breezes fanned out his curtains,

almost brushing a vase full of roses from a table. "Troy," I said again, moving closer to the bed.

"Please look-my way. Please say you forgive me for

not keeping my word; I wanted to, desperately wanted

to."

Still he didn't look my way. I drew closer, then

moved onto the bed, and gently turned his head my

way. The moonlight through the windows showed me