I hand the keys to my shop over to Marcus.
After that scare he gave me, I wasn’t so sure about being with Dharma but I loved her and I wasn’t going to let him have her.
“Are you sure?” He asks.
I knew he wasn’t just talking about the store.
“Yes.”
“Really?”
I glare at him.
“Because you won’t be able to take it back afterwards you know. There is no reversal in death. And your little girlfriend, Christina was it? She doesn’t need you to protect her. She has her husband Phil for that now.”
“What the fuck do you know about my life?”
“Everything. I am not as forgiving or as loving as Dharma. I’m sure you already know that. If you don’t, it’s best you start learning it. I won’t stand for your stupid human emotions.”
“Well, it’s is all I know since I am human.”
“If you fuck this up again you won’t have to worry about what you’re going to do with the rest of your life. Got it?”
“Well then. If you and your little Italian mob excuse me, I have some packing to do. So here are the keys and don’t you fuck this up. I hope there’s still some rational side in there. My customers aren’t food, got it?”
He rips the keys out of my hand.
“Okay.” I say walking away.
I booked a flight to London and with my cat in tow; I boarded the plane that same afternoon.
The flight landed close to dawn.
Her estate was magnificent.
I paid the cabby and walked up to the rod iron gate. I inserted the key into the lock and opened the door. I locked it behind me and putting the key back into my pants pocket, I walked up the driveway to the front house.
I walked around the house towards the back yard.
It was huge.
I could get lost out here.
I walked until I spotted the headstone.
There was an angel lying on top of the grave, it had been carved in white granite. It looked so beautiful, so real. Like at any moment it would open its eyes and sit up. It lay on its side, his face towards the west. One arm was curved up close towards his chest, the other outstretched under his head. His flowing hair lay beautifully behind him onto the wings, his wings relaxed in sleep. His legs were semi-curved up underneath his body. He wore breeches only, so he was barefoot and shirtless. His face was relaxed, so young and innocent. I touched his hair and his wings. The artist had done a magnificent job. I could actually feel every feather.
The headstone looked new; it was made of black marble.
It read:
Damon Reynaud
October 884-January 901
Immortality is yours my brother, for you live forever in my heart.
I looked around. It really was a beautiful place to be buried. The wind blew through the trees and brought with it the sweet smell of the roses from the garden.
I walked towards the house.
Archie was hissing at me.
I knew he wanted out of the carrier.
