Suzi drifted among the crowd, champagne flute in hand, mind only half on the art. The more she sipped her drink, the more she felt a subtle heaviness tugging at her.

When she caught sight of Ellie and Ricky talking with an older, well-to-do couple, she almost turned away—she wasn’t exactly in the mood for forced small talk. But Ricky spotted her, giving the tiniest head-tilt that basically said, Hey, get over here. So she did.

Ellie took charge of introductions, her voice smooth as silk. “Mr. and Mrs. Springer, let me introduce our dear friend, Suzi Bachman. Suzi is an inventor who specializes in funeral services.”

Immediately, Mrs. Springer’s nose wrinkled, lips pursed like she’d caught a whiff of rotting fish. It was zero effort on her part to hide her disdain.

“Suzi, this is Bernard Springer,” Ellie continued, “Executive VP at Kraft Heinz, and his wife, Margret.”

Suzi forced a polite smile as Mr. Springer nodded.

“Funeral inventions?” he said, sounding genuinely curious. “What does that entail?”

She paused, ignoring Mrs. Springer’s stony glare. “I’m in the process of patenting a digital reconstruction method. It helps present a more complete visage for someone who died with facial trauma so that families can have a proper viewing.”

Bernard raised his eyebrows in a gracious show of interest, nodding like he totally got it. Mrs. Springer just sneered. “And just how do you know the Moores?” The woman’s tone was all barbed edges as her eyes flicked up and down Suzi’s pink dress.

Suzi kept her spine straight. “Ricky is my stepbrother. And my landlord.”

“‘Ricky,’ is it?” Mrs. Springer turned her gaze to Ricky and Ellie. Her condescension practically dripped onto the polished floor. “I never knew you were a slumlord, Richard.”

Ricky flashed that easy grin. “I’m just helping out. She lives upstairs.”

“How lovely,” Mrs. Springer remarked. “I suppose you won’t be purchasing any of this artwork, then?”

“Margret, be nice,” Bernard muttered.

Suzi was about two seconds from tossing her champagne straight at Mrs. Springer’s pressed-lips face when Ellie rescued her. “Actually,” Ellie said lightly, “Suzi recently donated a large fortune to charity—didn’t you, Suzi? A million and a half, if I recall?”

Suzi nearly choked. “Um, yeah…”

Ellie pressed on, her voice bright. “She’s the lead partner in the Jatha Washington Foundation, a nonprofit helping low-income families afford funeral services.”

Oh. So that was what Ellie was doing—rattling these people’s cage, giving them a dose of humility. Right. Suzi quickly played along. “Yes,” she confirmed softly. “That’s correct.”

Mr. Springer’s eyes gleamed with sudden respect. “I should make a donation, then.”

Mrs. Springer glowered like she’d eaten a lemon.

“And Rick,” Bernard continued, “what about this piece here? How much?”

Ricky slipped an arm around Bernard’s shoulders and guided him toward the painting, launching into the backstory of its creation.

Ellie stepped closer to Suzi, speaking low, “Sorry to put you on the spot. The richer some of these people get, the more disassociated from reality they can become. But you know as well as I do—death doesn’t discriminate by net worth.”

Suzi’s chest felt tight. “I get it. And for the record, it wasn’t my fortune I donated—it came from a family I was able to help.”

“But it was because of your work.”

Suzi shrugged. “I guess so.”

Ellie’s eyes shone under the gallery lights. The white dress clung to her curves like it’d been molded on. Suzi couldn’t help but notice how Ellie’s presence had a gravitational pull on everyone near her. There was something so…unworldly about her. Suzi blinked, and a sudden surge of will flared, pulling her consciousness toward Ellie’s mind.

Without warning, she slipped inside Ellie’s thoughts. There was a dizzying rush—an endless sprawl that felt like it reached across centuries. Holy shit—

Ellie’s shout rang out: “Stop! What are you doing?”

The connection shattered, leaving Suzi reeling backward. She threw up her hands, adrenaline pounding in her ears. “I—I’m sorry, I don’t—”

At that exact moment, Ricky hurried over, concern etched on his face. “What happened?”

Ellie had already smoothed her expression back into calm. She rested a soft hand on Suzi’s raised wrist. “It’s nothing, love. Suzi’s feeling a bit off.”

Ricky frowned. “Suz, You okay?”

Suzi swallowed hard. She felt a bit wobbly on her heels. “Probably too much champagne. I should go lie down—”

“Wait, hold on. I want you here for the big reveal,” Ricky insisted.

Ricky slipped away, making his way to another room lined with curious guests. She watched him tap his champagne glass with his wedding ring, the ringing hush cascading through the space.

Tom’s boisterous voice cut in, “Damn, real crystal, Way to go, Rick!”

A round of laughter spread, then died as everyone turned to watch Ricky step in front of a massive, draped canvas.

Ellie held Suzi’s arm. Ellie’s mental voice graced Suzi’s head—her lips didn’t so much as move. “Suzi, I know you have questions, but now’s not the time.”

Suzi’s skin prickled. “Who are you?” she demanded mentally, biting back the rising panic.

“My name is Eliana,” came Ellie’s silent reply. “I am who you know, but like you, I am much more. We’ll talk later.”

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Ellie guided Suzi toward the front, close to Ricky, who was now mid-speech. The applause and laughter from the crowd suggested he’d already charmed them with his story.

“…and of course, I wouldn’t be here if not for my incredible wife, Ellie,” Ricky concluded, voice thick with love. A fresh wave of applause and catcalls erupted.

Suzi spotted Darcy across the crowd, still locked at the elbow with Gracie Jo. Darcy’s face was a mask of tension, her eyes flicking from Suzi to Ellie and back. But Suzi couldn’t read the meaning there—just recognized that Darcy’s body language screamed something was off.

Ricky lifted his glass toward Ellie. “Ellie, my love—this is my magnum opus, my masterpiece, my vision of you.”

He stepped aside, tugging a cord. A huge white sheet fell away, revealing the painting underneath. The hush that filled the gallery was almost tangible.

Suzi’s gaze caught on the image: Ellie rendered as an angel, nude but artfully concealed by golden-white wings—cradling a wounded, burnt figure in her arms. The battered man looked suspiciously like Ricky, bloodied and charred. The backdrop behind them split into two realms: a war-torn city of reds and oranges, and a futuristic silver skyline over a calm, azure sky. Ellie’s angel hovered between them, wings mid-sweep, eyes lifted to some intangible horizon.

This was his Mona Lisa.

This was a Rembrandt.

It was breathtaking. Suzi felt the hair rise on her arms. For a moment, no one breathed. Then gasps rippled through the crowd, mingled with quiet exclamations of awe.

She glanced sideways at Ellie just as the woman’s hand flew to her mouth, tears brimming. Then Ellie bolted, her heels clicking furiously on the floor, pushing her way out of the room.

“Ellie!” Ricky called, voice panicked, about to chase after her.

Suzi snagged his arm. “I’ll go, Ricky. It’s incredible, I promise—probably just hit her harder than she expected. You stay and take care of your guests.”

His eyes, wide with worry, gave her that haunted look Suzi recognized from people who watched loved ones pass in hospice. “I—I don’t even know these people,” he admitted, helpless. “They’re all her crowd.”

She lowered her voice. “Then just sell them some fucking art, okay? I’ll find Ellie and make sure she’s alright.”

He gave a tight nod, turning back to calm the onlookers crowding forward to examine the painting. Suzi stepped away, following the path Ellie had taken.

A few people, eyes alight with curiosity, jerked their chins to indicate Ellie had run out the main entrance. Suzi aimed that way, but halfway to the door, her equilibrium wobbled, like the floor had tilted a few degrees. Grabbing the frame, she took a deep breath, trying to steady her vision.

“What the fuck is this?” she muttered to herself. Something about that mental connection with Ellie? Or maybe that swirl of champagne in her empty stomach?

She pushed through the door onto the red-carpeted sidewalk, scanning both sides of the street. Rows of parked cars gleamed under the spotlights. No sign of Ellie anywhere.

“Ellie!” she called, voice echoing off the nearby buildings. No answer. “Ellie!”

Just then, Bear and Darcy emerged from the gallery, Gracie Jo tagging along, hand twined with Darcy’s.

Bear frowned. “What happened?”

Suzi threw up her hands. “Ellie ran. I tried to follow, but she disappeared.”

“We need to talk,” Darcy said in a low voice, glancing from Suzi to Bear with grim determination.

Bear nodded once, a silent agreement.

Darcy shifted her focus to Gracie Jo. She took the younger woman’s hand between both of hers. “Gracie, my dear, go back inside, enjoy yourself. I’ll catch up in a minute—have to help my friends find the hostess. If you leave before I return, you’ll have to leave me a glass slipper, so I can roam the kingdom searching for you.”

Gracie Jo blushed like a high school girl smitten with the quarterback. “Oh my! Maybe I’ll just leave you my number, so it won’t take so long.”

Exchanging a quick glance, Suzi and Bear both rolled their eyes. They’d never seen Darcy lay it on quite this thick.

Darcy let Gracie’s hand slip away—only for Gracie to surge forward, practically devouring Darcy’s mouth with a deep, impassioned kiss. Hands roamed, breath mingled, and Darcy reciprocated for a few heavy seconds. Suzi and Bear stood there awkwardly, waiting, until Bear’s loud, deliberate cough finally broke the moment.

Gracie eased back, trailing her fingertips along Darcy’s jaw. She gave one final kiss, then turned and waltzed inside with a spring in her step.

Darcy let out a long, exaggerated sigh as she watched Gracie Jo disappear back inside the gallery.

Bear cocked his head, giving Darcy a pointed look. “You done?”

Darcy’s lips quirked in a smirk. “Oh no, not even close. I’m nowhere near done with her.”

Something in Suzi’s chest flared—a protective instinct she couldn’t tamp down. She grabbed Darcy’s arm, maybe a little harder than she meant to, and jabbed a finger toward Darcy’s face. “Gracie Jo is a good girl. Sheltered, naïve. She’s a virgin with basically no experience in love. If you hurt her—”

Darcy gently nudged Suzi’s hand away, still smiling. There was no hint of anger, just an odd softness in her eyes. “Suzi, if I ever hurt her, you can do whatever the hell you want with me. She’s…different from anyone I’ve known.”

Suzi’s mind raced. Darcy had been around for centuries, so hearing that rattled her more than she cared to admit. “What? You’ve existed for six hundred years—how can she be that special?”

Darcy’s mouth twitched in a small sigh. “I can’t explain it. She just is.”

Before Suzi could push further, Bear cleared his throat. “Back to business.” He inclined his head toward the side of the building, already walking.

“Right,” Darcy muttered, falling in step. “The artist’s wife—”

“Ellie,” Suzi clarified, still reeling from the short-lived interrogation about Gracie Jo.

“Yeah, Ellie. She isn’t human. She’s an Ascendant.”

The word hit Suzi like a door slamming shut. “Ascended?” She repeated the term, feeling her nerves spike.

“Ascendant,” Bear corrected, stopping by the wall so they could speak in relative privacy. “Means she’s born of the Elevated Plane. Technically, it’s the same origin category for angels, demons, gods, demi-gods—all that.” He gave Darcy a sideways glance. “You’re certain?”

Darcy’s nod was immediate. “Her aura practically blinded me. One hundred percent.”

“So, Ellie’s an angel?” Suzi’s pulse quickened; she remembered that brief, electrifying connection with Ellie’s mind.

Bear shook his head. “No. She’s been on Earth too long for an angel. More likely a lesser god or a demi-god—something with sustainable will and a hell of a lifespan.”

Suzi’s thoughts spun. “A lesser god or demi-god? What the fuck does that even mean?”

“There’s a pantheon,” Bear explained, voice calm but firm. “Not everything from the Elevated Plane is an angel or a demon. Other deities exist, from old mythologies, religions, or places we barely understand.”

Suzi’s temples started to throb. Another entire realm of gods? That was too big a concept to shove neatly into her mind. “So…God isn’t the only God?”

“Far from it,” Bear said. “He’s probably the youngest and the strongest. But there were gods before Him—ones who made Him. They’ve weakened over time, but they’re still out there. Virtually every deity humanity’s ever worshipped. Or so we think.”

Darcy interjected, “And now that people might suspect Ellie isn’t human, she could be in danger. Or maybe she took off to…go home, so to speak.”

That settled like a rock in Suzi’s gut. “Go home? You mean, to the Elevated Plane?”

Bear nodded. “A place we call Elation—like the capital city, if you will. Ascendants who choose to return to the Elevated Plane go through evaluations there. If they fail or cause trouble, they get forced into the Outer or given mundane tasks until they prove themselves worthy again.”

Suzi’s head swam. Between the lingering champagne buzz and the panic weaving through her chest, she thought she might collapse. “I don’t feel so good,” she mumbled, and her legs decided they’d had enough. She plopped onto her butt, the frilly dress scrunching underneath. A dull ache thudded behind her eyes.

Darcy’s voice was half-amused, half-scolding. “You’re gonna ruin that dress.”

Bear’s gaze flicked between them. “Take her up to her apartment,” he ordered Darcy. “I’ll contact the doc, see what he knows about Ellie, figure out if this changes his plan.”

Suzi barely heard him; her vision felt like it might blur out any second.

Darcy grabbed Suzi’s hands and hauled her upright with surprising gentleness. “Upsie-daisy, fille. You didn’t even get this hammered on two bottles of wine and a bottle tequila last night, so what the hell’s going on with you?”

She didn’t wait for an answer—Darcy just stepped. The world folded in a disorienting flash, and suddenly they were standing in Suzi’s bedroom.

Suzi’s stomach lurched. She bent over without warning, puking up champagne and half-chewed hors d’oeuvres. Before her knees even hit the mattress, everything went dark as she tumbled into unconsciousness.