That evening, Lily stepped into the dim, nondescript restaurant, radiant. Her blue eyes still blazed with victory. Her long, powerful legs showed from beneath the hem of shorts that might have been average length on a shorter woman.

Max realized he may have whimpered a little. By the time she reached the table he had gathered enough presence of mind to stand up and greet her.

"Judging by your grin, I'm guessing you placed well today."

She slid into the booth and ordered a glass of iced tea. Apparently, he wasn't the only one who'd had enough alcohol the night before.

"It was amazing. I was worried that I'd be tired or not feeling well after last night but, honestly, I woke up so energized. I felt... blessed." A pretty blush crept across her fair cheeks. "Does that make sense?"

"Yeah. I know exactly what you mean."

"Well, semi-finals tomorrow morning, and hopefully finals in the afternoon, so I can't stay out late tonight."

Max's throat constricted around his words. He cleared his throat and tried a second time. "Thank you for having dinner with me."

She sat back against the bench, shaking her head, though her smile never faltered. "I can't believe I asked you here. This isn't what I do."

"You don't eat dinner?"

She laughed. "You know what I mean."

Max couldn't help but smile at her easy joy. He'd been smiling all day, walking around Las Vegas, grinning like an idiot. She'd turned him stupid and he couldn't have cared any less. "You're much more relaxed than you were yesterday," he observed.

"I was really nervous."

"And now you're not?"

"Nope. I'm telling you. I've got a guardian angel all of a sudden."

At that, he laughed out loud. "I believe you."

Her hand lay on the table. Could he reach out and touch her? Feel her strength and softness once more?

She moved to pick up her drink and the moment was lost.

A hard tug on his soul.

Blackness.

Harriet at her desk.

Max glared at her. "You can't pull me out like that!"

"I can, obviously," she droned without looking at him.

"I. Am. On. Vacation. I'm not a Vegas reaper. They can solve their own problems!"

That got her attention. She peered at him over the golden rim of her glasses. "You would turn down a reap?"

"It's not my reap!"

"It is if the pink slip is assigned to you."

He stormed toward her and slammed his hands down on her desk. "I don't know who you think..."

"Someone wants to talk to you." With a supremely unruffled gesture, she pointed over Max's shoulder.

He blinked, thrown by having his rant so abruptly interrupted. Standing straight, he turned to see who she was pointing at. Slithering snakes of anxiety uncoiled in a hissing nest of discomfort at the sight of Azrael standing with his hands in the pockets of his black tactical pants. A black t-shirt stretched across his chest. His dark hair was tied away from his face. Four inches taller than Max, he was almost too large to pass for human. He spread his arms wide. "It is good to be in your presence, son."

"Dad?" Max embraced his father reflexively. How long had it been since Azrael had last summoned him to the void? Lifetimes? Centuries? There had been an attack on China once, during a time of relative peace. An earthquake. The largest reap he'd ever been a part of. Azrael maintained a strict, only business, habit of conversation. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his eyes. "What's going on?"

Azrael's gaze darted to Harriet. "Come," he said, pressing a hand against his son's back. They took three steps and found themselves in an autumn forest, on a ridgetop overlooking a lush valley where wild horses grazed.

Death wasted no time on pleasantries. "You should not be with that woman, Maximus."

Is this how teenaged humans felt when they were caught doing something wrong? Max swallowed hard. "I am not with her. I'm just having dinner."

Azrael slid his hands into his pockets once more and watched him, his flat brown eyes giving nothing away.

"I had a few bad reaps. I needed a break," Max said. Anything to fill the pregnant silence.

"You have created a lovely home for yourself. A refuge. It would seem a good place to rest," Azrael said.

"I needed a change of scenery."

The taller being walked to the edge of the ridge and stood watching the animals. "There isn't one of us who hasn't looked at the humans and longed for what they have. Your existence is proof of my own desire, but you have to master it, Maximus. You must. For you, a woman will be a disastrous distraction."

Max wanted to break one of the towering trees with his bare hands. He longed to push Azrael off the cliff, for all the good it would do. He ached to sit on the cool earth and cry like a little boy.

He stood, unmoving and silent.

Still facing out toward the valley, his back to his son, Azrael said, "Your duty is more than a job. It's what you were created for. If you don't do it, there will be a breach."

"I know." Astonishing how level his voice was; a still surface on a raging, tumultuous river.

Azrael turned and looked at him again. Was that actual emotion on his face? Could it be fear? The hair on the back of Max's neck stood up. He had never seen Azrael afraid. Not ever.

"A breach is always catastrophic, but right now," he pressed his lips together in a thin line. "It would be very bad."

"Why?" The word flew from Max's lips and he clamped them shut again, immediately aware of his error.

"Asking why is a sign of distrust in the vertical alignment."

Max lifted his chin a fraction of an inch. "Withholding information is a sign of distrust in your subordinates."

Azrael studied Max's eyes. "Are you subordinate to me, Maximus?"

Max bowed his head, slightly. He could almost hear Daniel's voice in his ear. Don't be daft, mate. Choose your battles wisely. "Of course. To you and to our Father."

The hand on his shoulder was steady and strong, loving and powerful. "Go home, Maximus. Give thanks that you exist within the perfect order of creation."

"But..."

The forest was gone, swallowed away like water down a drain.

"I know it sounds silly, but really I felt like... like the force was with me or something. My body seemed to know what was going to happen a split second before it did, every time," Lily said.

The clink and clatter of restaurant noise surrounded them.

Max coughed into his napkin.

"Are you OK?" she asked.

He could excuse himself. She'd be annoyed and she'd forget him and move on with her life and he could go home and do what he'd always done. He had fellowship among his own kind. He wanted for nothing when it came to his needs, or even his comfort.

The shimmering shadows of a thousand past lifetimes danced on the edge of his mind.

A thousand lifetimes of being among the sweet, beautiful, willful, strange, belligerent humans. Among them, yet apart.

He lowered his napkin and forced a smile for her. "I'm fine," he said. "The match sounds amazing. May I come and watch you tomorrow?"

"I'll see if I can get you a seat near the front."

In her presence, Azrael and all his demands were no more than dust in the wind. Max's heart pounded in his chest. His palms were cold and damp. His throat so dry it clicked when he swallowed. It was pathetic. It was human. It was what he wanted more than anything. "You told me last night that you made a habit of only spending time with a man if you thought he might be someone you would marry."

Color rose into her cheeks once more, a shade of pink that would make any rose jealous. "That's true."

"I'd like you to spend some more time with me," he said.

"I'd like that, too," she said, looking at him from beneath her lowered lashes.

Surely, this woman had been meant for him. God wouldn't have allowed emotion so powerful if He hadn't meant it to be acted upon.

After dinner, there was no offer of dancing. She had to be in the ring at eight o'clock in the morning. Max walked her to her room. In the hall outside her door, she turned and said, "Thank you for dinner."

"I'm glad it was better than last night."

The corners of her eyes crinkled a little as if she was holding back laughter. "I hope you'll trust me with your secrets someday."

What could he say to that? Which secrets? There were too many to count. None of them mattered. He cupped her perfectly symmetrical cheeks in the palms of his hands and leaned forward to brush his lips against hers, gently, a moment of feather-like caress.

"Good night, Lily."

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