We were in a motel now. I must have passed out when we crossed over into Antwerp. Rolling medieval scenery rolled by, and I was dazed, overwhelmed by my memories of my past life with him. His eyes were a snake's tooth, boiling copper. He laid me down gently on the bed and spread his wings.
Back in the Forsaken Place, rotted Eden, and as I stared into his eyes, I saw not my own, but Samael's memories
The Lightbringer attended to his duties.
Idly, he ate a wormy pomegranate, dressed in a white tunic. Black veins ran like a map across his back, spreading to chalk-white shoulders. He lingered in the shadows, watching the Milky Way canoe toward the outer boundaries of heaven. The stars hung like fireflies above, reflecting off the perfection of his skin as he stood under the boundless moon. The satellite drifted slowly across the hours, and the music of the spheres churned as time's machinations moved the night to day.
