“I’m being moved,” I said glumly.

“No, you’re staying right where you are,” Nyx said to my surprise. She turned to Nero. “You are being moved. And I know just where to put you.” She gave him a long, hard look. “You’re being promoted. Congratulations, General.” She winked at him.

“Now,” she said, rising. “I expect to see you in my office in LA tonight, Nero, so we can discuss your next assignment.”

Then she rose and walked out the house. As soon as she was gone, my bedroom door creaked open and Damiel stepped into the living room.

“I couldn’t help but overhear,” he said.

“I have half a mind to kill him,” Nero muttered. “Or turn him over to Nyx.”

“You can’t bribe the First Angel into letting you stay in New York,” Damiel said.

“I can’t certainly try.” He looked at me. “I should have seen this coming, her promoting me to solve her problem.”

“Stop being cynical.”

“Such an attitude is necessary at the Legion.”

“Nyx is promoting you because she needs you,” I told him.

“I know. But she’s also getting rid of a problem.”

Damiel grabbed one of the cookies Nyx had been enjoying so much. “He’s right. By having you not under his command, she is allowing this lovely relationship to blossom.” He looked at Nero. “Assuming you can behave yourself and not try to save her at every opportunity. And assuming you survive the ceremony. Level ten is brutal.”

“As always, you give the best pep talks.”

“I can help you prepare,” Damiel offered.

“I don’t need your help.”

I made a note to get tips from Damiel. I was not going to lose Nero because he was too stubborn to accept help.

“Nyx is right, you know.” Damiel’s eyes shifted between me and Nero.

“About what?” Nero asked impatiently.

“It wasn’t Fireswift who poisoned Leda. He couldn’t have. Angels can’t get the Venom. But the gods can.”

Nero’s expression changed. He no longer looked anger. He looked scared. I’d never seen that expression on his face.

“What is it?” I asked him.

“He’s realized that I’m right. And what it means,” Damiel said.

I looked at Nero for clarification, but he didn’t say anything. So turned to Damiel instead. “What does it mean?”

“Best case scenario, one of the gods wants you dead.”

“That is the best case scenario?”

“Yes. When it comes to the gods, if you gain their attention, death is the best you can hope for. The other reason a god might have poisoned you to to test you.”

“Test me how?”

Damiel shrugged. “Maybe see how resilient you are. Or the god thinks you’re special and wants to figure out how, turn you into a weapon or a guinea pig. That happens all the time.”

“Stop talking now,” Nero said to his father, his voice dangerously quiet.

“You sure are on edge, Nero. Are you sure there isn’t something you want to get off your chest?” He glanced at me.

“I told you to stop.”

“I’m just trying to help.”

“No, you’re not.”

They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. I felt like they were having a silent discussion, excluding her. Maybe they were speaking telepathically.

“Careful, old man. I can still throw you to the wolves,” Nero said finally.

Ok, now I was sure they’d been talking telepathically.

“You’re a terrible liar, Nero. If you were going to turn me in, you would have done it already. I think you have a soft spot for me.”

Nero’s eyes flashed with indignation. “Did you hit your head when you fell from heaven?”

Damiel chuckled. “Nyx was wrong,” he told me. “You’re not a bad influence on my son. You are a fantastic influence.”

“I’m not sure about that, but thanks. I think.”

His eyes took on a nostalgic glow. “This is just like it was with Nero’s mother. Except I was the bad influence. We used to stay up late—”

A knife shot across the room. Damiel caught it between his bound hands, twisting them expertly to compensate. He sets the knife down on the coffee table.

“Nero, do not throw knives indoors,” he said in that same patient tone he’d used back at the Lost City, the tone of an immortal with all the time in the world, the tone of someone unbothered by anything. “Especially not when we’re guests in someone else’s home. It’s simply not appropriate.”

I was starting to realize that was the tone he reserved for the times he was really emotional, like a counter to strong feelings.

“Do not speak of my mother,” Nero said, his eyes burning with rage.

“I loved her.”

“You killed her,” he spat. His lip quivered, his shoulders shaking with angry tremors.

“No.” He paused. “It’s time you heard what really happened. I didn’t really go crazy. I was always a bit dark, but your mother countered that. She balanced me.”

His eyes shone with naked vulnerability. Looking into those eyes, I knew he’d loved her—that he still loved her. Nero must have seen it too because he didn’t argue with his father. He just listened in silence, waiting for Damiel to continue.