own foul purpose.”
There was something not quite right here. I frowned. “One thing I don’t get about this puppet master theory, though—if my father sent you here to protect me because only you can contain Ramuell long enough for him to be re-bound, then how could a puppet master control the nephilim? I mean, you said it took all the magic of the fallen to bind the nephilim before, right?”
“Yes,” Gabriel said, and a crease appeared between his brows.
“So who, besides you, could possibly have the power to contain it in between rampages?” I asked.
“There could be more than one master,” Gabriel said. “It would make sense. Only the combined magic of many powerful creatures could contain even one nephilim.”
“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.
“Watch out, buddy, or some might think that you are getting familiar with your betters,” I said, my cheeks reddening. I headed to my room to change into something “more presentable.”
“I would like to be a great deal more familiar with you,” he murmured.
I gave him no sign that I heard him, but I could not stop the smile that spread across my face.
14
TWENTY MINUTES LATER I STOOD NERVOUSLY NEXT TO Gabriel in my postage stamp of a backyard. Beezle perched on the railing of the back porch, arms crossed and looking desperately unhappy. He had spent several minutes telling me that my father was, essentially, an untrustworthy scumbag. I’d patted and comforted him as best I could and assured him that I was too smart to be fooled by Azazel. But he was still distressed and most definitely did not want me in Azazel’s territory.
Beezle’s attitude had done nothing to reduce my worry. For all of my bravado, I was scared stiff at the prospect of meeting my father. I had no idea what kind of reception I’d get.
Gabriel spoke. “When I open the portal, we will have but a few moments to take advantage. It requires a great deal of magical energy to open and direct the portal to our location, so it is urgent that you step into the portal immediately. I will follow once I am certain you are safely inside, and then I will close the door behind me.”
“What’s going to happen once I’m in the portal?” I asked.
“It will not be comfortable,” Gabriel averred.
