“Unless you are a descendant of one,” I said, and I felt a little tickle in the back of my brain.

Gabriel looked at me with the same dawning comprehension in his eyes. “You think Ramuell has another child.”

“It makes more sense than a confederacy of the fallen, doesn’t it? I mean, how would that many masters hide what they were doing from Lucifer?” I asked.

“I think you are underestimating the number of enemies Lucifer has,” Gabriel said with a half smile.

“But are there that many enemies who share the same purpose?” I persisted.

“Another child of the nephilim,” Gabriel mused. “How could one be unknown to us? My birth was so unusual, so unwanted by above and below, that I was sentenced to death virtually at the moment of conception. How could Ramuell’s other offspring be hidden?”

“I don’t know,” I said, feeling suddenly tired. It seemed that every answer I found brought new questions. “There is something else ...”

“And what is that?”

It was hard to say this without sounding like a child. Every time someone mentioned my father, I felt confused. On the one hand, to be the object of his apparent adoration was a heady thing for a fatherless little girl. On the other hand, I was angry at his desertion of myself and my mother, and even angrier that he still didn’t see fit to be present when my life was obviously in danger.

“I want to see my father. Can you take me to him?”

Gabriel looked shocked. “Madeline, you cannot simply appear in Azazel’s court. There are protocols to follow.”

“Am I his daughter, or aren’t I?” I said angrily. I had been attacked by demons and nephilim, been overwhelmed by visions and new powers and assorted revelations, and the being responsible for the whole mess was two states away. I wanted to look him in the eye, to at least see the man who had conceived me and left me with a giant target on my back.

“You are his daughter, yes, but ...” Gabriel looked more uncertain than I had ever seen him. “You cannot demand to see him. He is a lord, and if you do not follow the correct protocol, you could endanger my life and your own.”

I felt a little tremble at the thought that Gabriel might be hurt. I didn’t want to subject him to any more harm than he had already obviously suffered at Azazel’s hands, but at the same time I didn’t want to back off. I wasn’t going to wait for Azazel to decide he felt like being a father. By the time that happened, I might be carved into tiny, bite-sized pieces by Ramuell.

“Then tell me the protocol. I want to see him.”

“But . . .”

“Make it happen, Gabriel,” I said. I was uncomfortably aware of the fact that I had just given him an order, and that he must follow it. I was Lord Azazel’s daughter, and he was a thrall. The gap between us loomed up, dark and sudden, and I realized that even without his unfortunate bloodline it would be nearly impossible for us be together.

His body stiffened. He hadn’t missed the command in my voice, either.

“As you wish, my lady,” he said, and I shivered at the coldness in his voice.

He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and went into the kitchen. I heard the murmur of his voice, too low for me to make out the words.

I went to the front window and looked out. The black field of night was turning blue, and some early risers were already out walking their dogs. It was another day, the fourth since I had stood at this window and waved good-bye to Patrick for the last time.

It was hard to remember that he was gone. So much had happened in the last few days that the girl who lost Patrick was like a dream. We had sat in this room and gorged on pizza and bitched about J.B.’s predilection for paperwork and that had seemed like the most important thing in the world. Would Patrick even know the person who stood here now, the person who had just behaved not like Madeline Black, but like the daughter of Lord Azazel?

I heard Gabriel reenter the room behind me and I carefully wiped my face of tears before I turned. His face was like stone.

“Lord Azazel would be happy to receive you in his court later this morning, my lady,” Gabriel said.

“Not that crap, again,” I said. “Listen, I’m sorry I acted so high-handed before ...”

He lowered his eyes from mine. “But you were correct. In Lord Azazel’s realm you are akin to a princess, and I no better than a peasant. I should not show undue familiarity with my betters.”

“I had no right to talk to you that way, no matter what I am in Lord Azazel’s realm.”

He looked up at me again, and some of the ice had melted. “The court is a very different place, and we must get into the practice of behaving correctly.”

“I hope you won’t let me make some stupid blunder that will get us both killed,” I said.

“That all depends on if you will actually listen to my advice,” he murmured.

“Are you trying to imply that I don’t listen well?” I asked.

His lips quirked, but he wisely chose not to respond to my question. “Since you are akin to a princess, perhaps you should change into something a little more presentable?”

I looked down at myself and realized I was still wearing my baggy sweats over my nightgown. My feet had been bare when I ran outside after J.B., and now they were covered with dirt and grass.

“And when I looked like this, you couldn’t resist me?” I asked incredulously.

“My lady, I would find you irresistible in any costume,” he said.