“Aaron, what’s wrong?” Gabriel asked, obviously picking up on his panicked vibe.

Aaron could not pull his eyes from the scene unfolding before him. Where had he seen that house before? His thoughts raced as he watched himself on the television knocking on the house’s front door. It hit him just as the door began to open. It was Belvidere Place back home in Lynn. He’d been there only once before.

The door opened, and Vilma stood there in a cream-colored gown, her hair up and decorated with baby’s breath, and the smile on her face as she saw him made him want to cry. His tuxedoed version was in the process of giving her the flower he had brought, when he ripped his eyes from the screen to look at the old man placidly sitting in the oversized chair.

“What is this?” Aaron demanded.

He looked back to the screen briefly to see him and Vilma posing for pictures. Vilma seemed to be embarrassed by the whole thing, waving her family away and trying to drag him toward the car. He couldn’t get over how beautiful she looked.

“It’s how you wish things had been,” Belphegor responded, his eyes never leaving the television. “I like this part… didn’t take you for a dancer.”

Aaron gazed at the set again and saw that he and Vilma were slow dancing among a crowd. He didn’t recognize their surroundings, but it appeared to be someplace fancy. Vilma was whispering in his ear as they slowly twirled in a circle on the dance floor. Foolishly he found himself growing jealous of his television doppelgänger. He pulled his eyes away, wanting to look anywhere else but there. His eyes landed on the dark cord of the television lying upon the floor, curled like a resting snake.

“It’s not plugged in,” he said aloud, turning his full attention to Belphegor. “The television’s not plugged in.”

“This is what your life could have been if not for the power that awakened inside you.”

He didn’t want to, but Aaron found himself looking at the screen again. He saw himself in a cap and gown, a stupid-looking grin on his face, accepting his diploma from Mr. Costan.

The view suddenly turned to the auditorium audience. With a sickening feeling growing in the pit of his stomach, he watched his foster mom and dad proudly applaud his achievement. It was when he noticed Stevie sitting in the chair beside his mother, smiling as if he didn’t have a problem in the world, that he realized he’d had more than enough.

“Make it stop,” he demanded, stepping farther into the room, fists clenched. He felt the manacles around his wrists and the collar about his neck grow warmer.

Belphegor didn’t respond, smiling as he watched television. Aaron couldn’t help himself and chanced a quick glance. It was like driving past a car accident. You didn’t want to see—but you just had to look. He appeared older now, sitting in a large classroom taking notes as a professor lectured. He was in college, and a part of him longed to switch places with this version of himself.

“I’ve seen enough,” he said louder, more demanding. The restraints were burning him, but he barely noticed, for his angelic nature had been awakened by his anger and it coiled within him, eager to strike.

“Isn’t this what you wanted, Aaron?” Belphegor asked, pointing to the TV.

Aaron didn’t want to see, but it was as if he weren’t in control of his movements. He was giving Vilma a ring. They were on a beach at sunset. Gabriel, looking older but still active, was happily chasing seagulls, and Vilma was sitting on a blanket with him. There was love in her eyes-love for him-and even though the sound was off, he knew his words at that moment. Will you marry me?

The angelic nature within him screamed, hurling itself against the restraints of the magicks within the golden metal that bound him. The pain was incredible, and he began to scream, but more from anger than hurt.

Gabriel began to panic and fled into the kitchen, barking as he ran.

“Turn it off! Turn it off! Turn it off!” Aaron demanded, his voice raw and filled with emotion. “I don’t want to see this—I don’t want to see what I can’t ever have. Why are you doing this?”

He stumbled forward to block the set, catching sight of Vilma in a wedding gown as she walked down the aisle of a church. His skin was on fire, the alien symbols appearing upon his flesh, even though the magick within the restraints tried to stop it. The wings beneath the flesh of his back writhed in agitation, gradually moving to the surface, ready to unfurl.

“I have to see if it’s true,” Belphegor said calmly. “I have to see if you are indeed the One.”

Something inside Aaron broke. There was a sound in his head like the scream of high-speed train, and his wings exploded from his back, as the power of an angel suddenly flowed unimpeded from his body. As if suddenly made ancient and brittle, the manacles upon his wrists and the collar about his neck broke, crumbling as dust to the floor. A sword of fire ignited in his hand and, gazing greedily upon its destructive potential, he spun around, bringing the burning blade down upon the wooden cabinet of the television console. The window into a life he would never know exploded in flames and a shower of glass, but not before he glimpsed a very pregnant Vilma, smiling as if she somehow knew he was watching.

The transformed Aaron, his wings of glistening black spread wide, turned back to glare at Belphegor, who still sat quietly in his recliner. Gabriel tentatively peered around the doorway from the kitchen, ears flat against his square head.

“Are…are you all right, Aaron?” the dog asked.

“I’m fine, Gabriel,” Aaron growled in the voice of the Nephilim. He pointed his sword of orange flame at the fallen angel. “You wanted to know if I was the One,” he said, voice booming about the confines of the room. “Well, what do you think?”

“I think that supper’s just about ready,” Belphegor responded with a soothing smile, rising from his chair. “Would you and your friend care to join me?”

Gabriel pushed the plate of mashed potatoes, gravy, and peas farther across the dining room floor with each consecutive lap of his muscular tongue. Before he wound up halfway across the house, Aaron reached down and took the plate away.

“I’m not finished with that,” the dog said, the remains of mashed potatoes decorating the top of his nose.

“Believe me, you’re finished,” Aaron said, setting the spotless plate on the tabletop. The plate is so clean, Belphegor could put it away without washing it, he thought. No one would be the wiser.

“I would like some more,” Gabriel said with a wag of his tail.

“You’ve had enough,” Aaron responded, as he took a hearty bite of his own roast beef and gravy. Then, always the ultimate pushover, he picked up a piece of meat from his plate and fed it to his insatiable companion. “Watch the fingers!” he squealed as the animal snatched away his offering. “I still use those, thank you very much.”

Belphegor walked in from the kitchen with another steaming bowl in his hands. “Here are some fresh green beans,” he said as he placed it on the table. “I grew them myself.”

“Here?” Aaron asked, shaking his head. “No, thank you. I’m not into toxic waste.”

“I like toxic waste,” Gabriel said happily, attempting to lick the remains of potato from his nose.

“It’s perfectly safe,” Belphegor said as he pulled out a chair and sat down across from Aaron. “All the poisons have been removed. They’re quite good.”

Aaron was reaching for the beans when he realized that Belphegor did not have a plate. “Aren’t you eating?”

The angel shook his head. “No, not tonight. I actually prefer preparing meals to eating them.” The fallen angel smiled, watching as Aaron spooned a heaping portion of the rich green vegetable onto his plate.

“You are aware that we—of my kind—do not need to eat.”