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“Hi. Can you see me all right?”

She nods.

“Good.”

I purse my lips and spit in Michael’s face.

He wipes it off.

“You filth,” he says. “You spawn of corruption. You living defilement of all that is holy.”

I spit again. It’s a nice solid quantity, too, and it hits him right in the eye.

This time he drops me. He screams. His hands go to his face, tearing at his eye. It’s turning red and starting to bleed.

“What have you done to me?”

“I gave you the sword, just like you wanted. Well, a bunch of little pieces of it. It tasted bad. Looks like it feels bad, too.”

He’s down on his hands and knees now. I lean over so I can see his face. He’s pale and sweating. I kick him upright. Then jam the amber knife into his bleeding eye and pull it out again.

It’s messy and bloody, but honestly, I’m feeling pretty good about myself. I think about how I’m going to buy myself a drink and maybe not work in the reggae bar after all.

But this is an archangel and I’m a moron.

Even as Michael starts to fade and die, he manifests his Gladius. And shoves it right through my heart.

The fire is so intense that I don’t even feel it. I just get very cold because for the second time in not all that long, I am no-shit dying. I have just enough time and strength to throw the amber knife to Samael. He drops the bundle and he and Alice run straight at Michael’s troops. I wish I could stick around and see how it comes out, but Michael is going and so am I and that’s how the song ends.

So long, dog pack. See you around, Traven.

I’m sorry I disappointed you again, Alice. Some days it seems like the thing I’m best at.

Thanks for the laughs, Samael. Now do what you do best with angels. If they move, kill ’em.

I don’t say good-bye to Candy this time. I already did that. I just hold her face in my mind as I fade away. And it’s okay.

I’m in the dark for a million years. Or maybe just a second. I don’t wear a watch, so I’m just guessing.

Then there’s light. It’s so bright it’s like a knife through my brain. Then my chest spasms and I cough. It’s not pretty. Garbage comes up from my lungs. The more I cough, the more my eyes water. The more my eyes water, the more my nose runs. I’m blind and in pain and probably a disgusting mess—nothing new there. But I can’t stop. Wherever I am, whatever is happening, it goes on for a long time.

When I can finally catch my breath and my eyes stop watering, someone hands me a towel.

I must look like a wino who just won the Most Bodily Fluids Leaked in One Sitting prize.

I wipe myself down and then someone takes the towel away.

A man says, “Open your eyes. What do you see?”

I can’t quite make out the voice. “Light. Just bright light.”

A shadow moves across me.

“Can you see that?”

“A little.”

“Good.”