“Up two flights of stairs and down a long passageway to Azazel’s quarters,” Gabriel said. “Which are guarded by a phalanx of his most trusted soldiers.”

“This might be the dumbest thing we have ever done in a long line of dumb things,” Beezle said.

“Much as it pains me to agree with you, you’re right,” I said. “But I really can’t see another option.”

Samiel tapped me on the shoulder. Would the invisibility spell make a difference?

“Not with Azazel,” Gabriel said. “It may protect us from any lesser demons.”

“Don’t bother,” I said. “I’m sure that Azazel will know that we’ve entered the building.”

“Yeah, what with the smashing and the mangling that usually follows in your wake,” Beezle said.

We walked slowly over the lawn. I limped, leaning on Gabriel. The wolves trotted ahead, sniffing the air. I was exhausted down to my bones. The house seemed like a giant repository of menace, and I was suddenly afraid for all of us.

J.B. and Samiel flew ahead to check inside the broken windows. Samiel looked back and gave us a thumbs-up.

The bottom sills of the windows were only a few feet off the ground, so the wolves were able to leap through easily. Gabriel lifted me inside, as my wings had disappeared along with my magic.

The throne room was completely destroyed. The fires had been extinguished, but there was a lot of scorched and charred wood everywhere. Three-quarters of the ceiling plaster had come down completely, and the remainder looked like it was going to fall any minute. Bodies of demons and soldier-angels lay everywhere under the rubble. There was nothing stirring, and no sign of Azazel, Antares or Focalor.

“Do you think Nathaniel was smashed underneath the falling ceiling?” I asked hopefully.

“Nah, he’s a cockroach like Antares,” Beezle said. “And like you, come to think of it. Everyone tries to kill you but you keep popping back up.”

“Real nice, Beezle. I’ll remember that the next time you’re crying for a doughnut,” I said.

“Perhaps the two of you would like to cease your bickering until we manage to get out of mortal peril?” Gabriel asked.

We picked our way over the debris until we reached the doors at the back of the throne room.

“This way,” Gabriel said, and led us through into a hallway. A number of other doors opened off the hall, and at the end of it was a wide staircase.

Everything was silent and still. I’d expected more activity—that Azazel would be gathering troops and making plans to destroy us. But there was no noise behind all of the doors that we passed, and there was no movement in the hall.

Gabriel still had his arm slung around me, propping me up. I was so tired I could barely lift my feet. Beezle made a concession to my extreme exhaustion by letting Samiel carry him instead. The wolves scouted ahead. J.B. and Samiel brought up the rear.

Wade and Jude stopped at the bottom of the stairs and waited for us to catch up. I looked up the flight, and then at Gabriel, and saw that he was thinking what I was thinking.

If we got caught on the stairs, we were dead.

“I had better carry you,” he said.

He put his arms under my shoulders and knees and held me like a baby. It was pretty much impossible to piggyback on an angel. The wings get in the way.

The wolves bounded up quickly, lightly, skipping steps. Gabriel extended his wings as far as he could and flew, carrying me with him. Behind us J.B. and Samiel followed suit.

We landed at the top and faced another long hallway with doors leading off it.

“This is just like Amarantha’s castle,” I muttered. “What does he need all these rooms for?”

“His projects,” Gabriel said. He put me down. The hallway was too narrow for him to carry me.

“What projects?” I asked.

“I was never told,” Gabriel said. “I was a thrall. But I assume that at least one of the projects was the creation of the memory-extraction technology.”

I stared at the doors, sorely tempted.

“No,” said J.B. “We don’t have time.”

“Gods know what he’s got behind there,” I pleaded. “We could destroy his research, stop him from unleashing some other horrible thing on the general population.”

“We don’t have time,” J.B. repeated. “I’d like to go home to my cat tonight.”

“I didn’t know you had a cat,” I said.

“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me,” J.B. muttered.

He was right. It seemed that whenever we talked it was always about me—the problems I had, the family politics, the monsters trying to kill me.

“I haven’t been a very good friend, have I?” I asked.

“Why do you feel compelled to have a heart-to-heart when we are in danger of losing our lives at any moment?” Beezle snapped.

“Because I’m human,” I said angrily. “And I’m trying to remember that I’m more than just some monster-killing machine.”

The wolves stopped abruptly, whining, at the end of the passage.

“Gods above and below,” I said. “What now?”

I hurried forward as quickly as I could on my unresponsive legs. Gabriel cursed softly and ran after me, catching me just as my right ankle buckled and my leg folded underneath my body.

I stared up the second flight of stairs. The wolves growled, their hackles raised.

Two creatures stood on the steps, one behind the other. Both of them were more than seven feet tall, with the raw red skin of exposed muscle, wicked-looking claws and protruding fangs.