“Did that mean you couldn’t visit? Those portals are faster than the commuter jet,” I said, and felt the familiar little sparks of anger rising. “And, you know, it might have made a difference when I was thirteen and alone except for Beezle.”

“Who do you think ensured your safety and independence until adulthood? Who made sure that you had funds for food, and that the authorities did not examine you too closely?”

That made me pause for a moment, but I was too wound up to stop now. “You couldn’t just come and get me? Why the cloak-and-dagger routine?”

“I do not have to explain my actions to you, Daughter,” Azazel said icily.

I heard a little voice in the back of my head, and it sounded like Gabriel. Careful, it whispered.

The air around us smelled like cinnamon rolls in the oven. How come every creature that came from an angelic bloodline smelled like they just came out of a bakery? Even Ramuell smelled like burnt cinnamon and sulfur. I wondered if I smelled cinnamony when my power manifested. I would have to ask Gabriel.

I saw that thunderclouds had risen in Azazel’s eyes. He was, consciously or not, responding to my hostility. I realized that any display of power would be interpreted as a threat, whether it was intended that way or not.

I tamped down my anger. I’d seen ample proof to know it wasn’t wise to provoke him. “Whatever. You couldn’t visit. I don’t really want to talk about the past now, anyway. What I want to discuss is how Gabriel and I can find Ramuell and destroy him.”

Sensing I had backed down, Azazel relaxed visibly. I vowed again to be more cautious.

“Gabriel has told you of his history with Ramuell?” he asked.

I nodded, and he went on.

“I believe that Gabriel could hold Ramuell with his powers, long enough to call the chiefs of the Grigori to his aid. We could re-bind the nephilim in the Valley of Sorrows. But I do not believe that you could destroy Ramuell.”

So Gabriel hadn’t told Azazel about my little starburst. I spoke carefully, so that he wouldn’t think that Gabriel had deliberately withheld information. The last thing I wanted was for Gabriel to be hurt.

“Something new has happened since yesterday. Perhaps Gabriel hasn’t been able to tell you about it. He was very busy caring for me after Ramuell’s attack,” I said.

Azazel’s expression did not alter, but I could sense a metaphorical pricking of his ears.

I described my battle with Ramuell, the draining of my magic, and the sudden manifestation of the starburst. I did not mention the second episode, since Gabriel had already warned me that it would be his death if anyone knew he had touched me.

Azazel’s brows drew closer together as I told my tale. “And you say that this power harmed the nephilim? Do you believe that you mortally wounded him?”

I thought of the missing skin, the gaping sores. “I don’t know if he was mortally wounded but I definitely messed him up. He ought to be out of action for a little while.”

“Madeline,” Azazel said, and he took me by the elbow to draw me closer. We both turned to look out the window as he whispered to me. “You must be very careful. I do not have a child among the nephilim, but most of the Grigori do. They did not want their offspring destroyed; that is why the nephilim are bound. Lord Lucifer would not thank you for murdering his firstborn.”

“And if it’s a choice between my life and his?” I said.

Azazel looked troubled. “I cannot guarantee, even under that circumstance, that Lord Lucifer would permit you to live.”

Somehow I had expected that answer. I sighed in resignation. “Well, at least I could take Ramuell out. And set Mom free.”

“Of all the things that I regret, and there are many, I regret most of all that your mother came to this fate. You do not know how it has tormented me that her soul is trapped in the body of that monstrosity,” Azazel said fiercely.

A fist squeezed my heart. “So you did love her,” I said.

“Of course I did. I will never know another love like that of your mother.”

“And still you got it on with Greenwitch, and had that jerk Antares—who, by the way, has a real attitude problem.”

“And again I will remind you that I do not answer to you, my daughter.”

I was already sick to death of bowing and scraping. “I apologize, Father,” I said stiffly.

Azazel seemed content with my reluctant fealty. “Gabriel has told me of Antares’s attacks on you. He has always been jealous of your place in court, a place that he felt was rightfully his. But the court would never accept a half demon as my heir.”

“Wait a second. Wait,” I said, my thoughts whirling. “I’m your heir? And Greenwitch was a demon?”

“Of course,” Azazel said.

“Of course which?” I asked.

“Of course you are my heir, and of course Lady Greenwitch was a demon.”

“Why didn’t she look demonic?” I asked. “I thought she was an ordinary human.”

Azazel shrugged. “Some demons, such as Greenwitch, possess sufficient power to disguise their aspect. She was particularly adept at masking her true nature. In any case, you did not see a soul leave her body at her death, did you?”

I was very distracted by this “of course you are my heir” business, but I had been curious about the lack of an Agent at Greenwitch’s death. “Are you saying that demons don’t have souls?”