part xv: another interlude
The sky is scarlet, saturated with evening, when Ian looks to it with slitted eyes and hands on guard against the fading sun and he does not know yet where he is going. Against the crimson backdrop he is stark white and gorgeous, this intense boy who wanders through a cement jungle of empty hallways and dusty classrooms (remember, until an hour before Lucifer fell, God thought him beautiful in heaven). But maybe his eyes are not as tough as he thinks, his fingers not as slender, his face not so striking. Maybe he is just a lost little boy eaten away inside by nightmares- shuddering with the effort to keep them locked up inside his brittle skin. Still, he laughs into the sky, sending his voice away with a flight of raucous crows. Oliver! he cries, your time is finally up! You are mine!
And when every last bird has vanished from sight, he turns around at last and heads back the way he came.
