Chapter 2

“My enchanting one!” Pukah shouted, spying Asrial from the window. Springing to his feet, he raced outside the arwat and accosted the angel in the street. “You came back!”

“Of course,” said Asrial sadly. “Where did you think I could go?”

“I don’t know!” Pukah said, grinning. “All sorts of wild ideas went through my head when I saw you disappear with Death. Like maybe she might send you back to be with that madman of yours—”

“No!” cried Asrial wildly. Pukah looked at her, startled, and she flushed, biting her lip. “I mean, no, how silly of you to imagine such a thing.” Reaching out her hand, she clasped hold of Pukah’s and gripped it tightly. Her fingers were a bit too cold for those of an ardent lover, and her grasp was more resolute than tender, but so thrilled was Pukah at this expression of caring, that he immediately overlooked these minor inconsistencies.

“Asrial,” he said earnestly, gazing into the blue eyes that were raised to his, “with you here, I’m not afraid of anything that might happen to me tomorrow.”

The angel lowered her eyes, hurriedly averting her face, but not before Pukah saw a tear glisten on her cheek.

“Forgive me! I’m a wretch, a beast! I didn’t mean to talk about tomorrow. Besides, nothing’s going to happen to me. There, I’m talking about it again! I’m sorry. I won’t say other word.” He drew her near, putting a protective arm around her and glowering at those in the street who were lustfully eyeing the lovely angel. “I think we should go someplace where we can be alone.”

“Yes,” said Asrial shyly. “You’re right” Her eyes looked to the upper windows of the arwat, from where sounds of sweet laughter drifted out into the street “Perhaps—”

“By Sul!” Pukah caught her meaning and stared at her, amazed. “Are you serious?”

Pressing her lips together firmly, Asrial moved nearer Pukah and rested her head against his chest.

The djinn flung his arms around the angel, hugging her close, never minding that it was similar to embracing the hard and unresisting trunk of a date palm. Her lips were stiff and did not kiss back.

“She does not want to seem too eager,” said Pukah to himself. “Quite proper. I wonder if the wings are detachable.”

Keeping his arm around Asrial’s waist, the djinn led her back to the arwat. “A room,” he said to the rabat-bashi.

“For the night only, I suppose.” The proprietor grinned wickedly.

Pukah felt Asrial tremble in his arms and glared at the man. “For a week! Paid in advance.” He tossed a handful of gold into the immortal’s hands.

“Here’s the key. Up the stairs, second door to your left. Don’t wear yourself out tonight. You’ll need to be fresh for the morrow!”

“I’ll be fresh enough for you on the morrow you can be sure of that!” muttered Pukah, hurrying the nearcollapsing angel up the stairs. “Don’t pay any attention to that boor, my dearest.”

“I’m. . . not,” said Asrial faintly. Leaning against the wall, while Pukah fumbled with the key, the angel looked at him with such a sorrowful gaze that Pukah couldn’t bear it.

“Asrial,” he said gently, hearing the lock click, but not yet opening the door, “wouldn’t you rather go sit somewhere and talk? Maybe the fountain by the Temple?”

“No, Pukah!” Asrial cried fiercely, flinging her arms around his neck. “I want to be with you tonight! Please!” She burst into tears, her grip tightened until she nearly strangled him.

“There, there,” he said soothingly, feeling the heart beating wildly in the soft breast pressed against his bare chest. “You and I will be together, not only this night, but all nights in eternity!” Opening the door, he led the angel inside.

The rays of the setting sun beamed brightly through an open window. Asrial drew away from his arms as soon as they were in the room. Pukah locked the door, tossing the key on a nearby table, then hurried over to shut out the red, glaring light, slamming closed the wooden shutters and plunging the room into cool darkness.

When he turned around, his eyes growing accustomed to the dimness, he saw Asrial lying upon the bed that was the room’s prominent feature. The wings—about which he had been so worried—spread out beneath her, forming a white, feathery blanket. Her long hair seemed to shine with its own light, bathing the angel in silver radiance. Her face was deathly pale, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. Yet she held out her arms to him, and Pukah was very quick to respond.

Unwinding his turban, he shook free his black hair and crawled into bed beside her. Asrial did not look at him, but kept her eyes lowered in a maidenly confusion that made Pukah’s blood throb in his temple. Slowly, her arms cold and shaking, the angel drew his head to her bosom and began to mechanically stroke the djinn’s curly hair.

Pukah nestled into the softness of the wings and, placing his lips upon the white throat, was just about to lose himself in sweetness when he noticed that Asrial was singing.

“My dove,” he said, clearing his throat and trying to lift his head, only to find that the angel held him close, “your song is beautiful, if a bit eerie, but so mournful. Plus”—he yawned—”it’s making me sleepy.”

The angel’s hand motions were lulling and soothing. Pukah closed his eyes. The enchanting song bubbled into his mind like the rippling waters of a cool stream, quenching desire. He let the waters take him up and bear him away, floating on the top of the music until he sank beneath its waves and drowned.

Asrial’s voice died. The djinn slept soundly, his head on her breast, his breathing regular and even. Rolling his body over gently, she sat up beside him. She had no fear of waking him. She knew he would sleep soundly for a long, long time.

A very long time. Sighing, Asrial gazed at the slumbering Pukah until she could not see him for the tears in her eyes. The slim, youthful body, the foxish face that thought itself so clever. Her hands stole around his chest and drew him close. She buried her face in his chest and felt his heart beat.

“No immortal can have a heart!” she wept. “No immortal can love! No immortal can die! Forgive me, Pukah. This is the only way! The only way!”

Taking hold of the amulet in her shaking hands, Asrial slowly removed it from around the djinn’s neck.