Demon's Fall by Karalynn Lee Page A

step. Or perhaps he would shatter, like the mirror-demon.
    He wondered why there was a stairway, if angels could fly to Heaven directly. It seemed the sort of ostentatious display they would have. But then he remembered how there were no statues or signs of worship, and that even something so simple as a dress that fit could bring an angel joy. Perhaps they were not as pretentious as he had always thought.
    The residents of Heavensgate kept a respectful distance from him, except to bring him food and water. No doubt some still suspected that he had come here to tempt them. He could see why angels rarely bothered to come here—everyone had clearly committed his soul to Heaven already. He spoke with the few who did approach him, and learned that their stories were varied and not so pure as he would have supposed. Tiras might have done well here, he thought. But of course, as an angel, he wouldn’t have ventured down here to know.
    The worst was the boredom. Little of note happened by the fountain, and he refused to leave his post for any longer than necessary. He didn’t want to miss Jahel.
    For all his vigilance, he was dozing when she came.
    “What are you doing here?”
    He woke from a dream of her to the sight of her in the flesh. “Jahel,” he said. He wanted nothing more than to simply gaze at her, but he was determined not to let his throat lock up as it had before. “Looking for you.”
    “I’m so glad you’ve healed,” she said. Her hand fluttered around his face, then dropped, as though she didn’t dare touch him. She went around to the other side of the stairs. He started after her, afraid that she was leaving, but then she bent and pulled something out from under the lowest step. A pair of shoes.
    “You kept them,” he said, absurdly pleased.
    “Yes,” she said as she laced them on. “I like to walk about now and then, and talk to the folk in Heavensgate.”
    “But not down the stairs?”
    She looked up their length and laughed. He drank in the sound. “I don’t think anyone’s ever taken the stairs,” she said. “If someone did climb them, he might get admitted into Heaven out of sheer admiration for his endurance. Don’t tell me you tried them?”
    “I couldn’t,” he said. “So I waited here instead.”
    “For how long?”
    He shrugged. He hadn’t counted the days. “I was afraid you were out shepherding another soul.”
    “I haven’t been able to take on another guardianship yet.”
    “Then what have you been doing?”
    “Thinking about how long it takes to fly to Hellsgate,” she said lightly. “Wondering whether I would be trapped in another cage in the market, and how long it would take you to walk by and see me.”
    He tried to match her painfully thin banter. “I wouldn’t have been able to buy you this time.”
    “Why not?”
    “I returned all the souls I had collected.”
    Her eyes widened. “You gave them all back?”
    “Almost all,” he corrected himself. He brought out his last coin.
    She made no move to take it. “You came to return it to me?”
    “Yes. You don’t owe me anything.” He knew the words were wrong as soon as he spoke them. He shook his head, impatient with himself. “No. I came to see you.”
    “I wanted you to have it to remember me.”
    “How could I forget you? And souls are hardly keepsakes. How have you survived without a soul?”
    “It’s been miserable. But not because I was missing my soul.”
    He felt his heart begin to pound. The allure of an incubus depended on proximity. In Heaven, she couldn’t have been farther away from him, and he had been certain, during some despairing nights, that she would have shaken off any demonic influence and been horrified by it.
    “You should still take it,” he said.
    “It was a gift.”
    He said, “Some gifts are infinite. You can never pay for them. Except in like coin.”
    “Kenan…”
    “Kenan Ebon Arish.” He took her hands. “My soul is—”
    She said wildly, “I’m an