When our food arrives, Anna is too nervous to eat. I wish I could take her fear away. I do have something that might take her mind off it for a moment, though, and for once I’m not talking about sex. I reach in my pocket to feel the smooth turquoise stone there. My heart jumps at the thought of giving it to her, and I need to stand.

I move to the window, still staggering from the madness I feel inside. So many thoughts to muddle through. I want to escort Anna into the prison to meet Belial, but they won’t allow me. She is on her own, and I can’t protect her. My only consolation is that she and her father will be surrounded by other people.

One way or another, after Anna meets her father today, she will be changed. It’s inevitable.

“You’ve gotten scruffy,” comes her soft voice. Her hand is suddenly against my face, her touch pulsing through me. I grasp her hand and shut my eyes. Why do I feel this way? I am not myself when I’m with her. I long for this simple touch far too much.

When I look at her, she tilts her head like the timid fawn she is, searching my soul. I wonder if she sees the blackness there. This is our last day, and then this has to end. I let her go and cross my arms, staring from the window.

“I have something for you,” I say.

She brightens and perks up at these words, and I’m suddenly nervous as hell.

Going for nonchalance, I pull the necklace from my pocket and hold it out, but she doesn’t take it. She only stares, making me more nervous.

“I saw you looking at it and thought you liked it.” Does she remember?

Her face slightly pinches and she blinks. I’m feeling like a fool here.

“Have I upset you?”

“No! I’m not upset. I’m just surprised. I can’t believe . . .” Oh, bloody hell. She’s crying. “I mean, I love it. Nobody’s ever given me anything like this.”

Oy, she’s making a huge deal of it. I’ve never been a gift giver. Gifts mean something to the giver, even more so than to the receiver most times. I should know. I receive loads of gifts that go straight into rubbish bins. But I’m afraid this means as much to Anna as it does to me, and that’s not a good thing. I drop the damned necklace into her hand and curse, shoving my fingers into my hair.

What have I done? I know I wanted to make her fall for me, but she is clearly a romantic. Here I am buttering her up just before she goes to meet her demonic father, who will probably be in shock when he sees just how innocent Anna is. Not that he should be too surprised, considering he slept with a fucking angel to conceive her, but still. I’ve changed my mind about letting Anna fall for me. It would not be good for her. It’s bad enough that I’ll likely pine for her like Peter Pan after Wendy. I don’t need her doing the same.

“This was a mistake,” I mutter.

“No.” Her voice is full of emotion when she takes my arm. “It wasn’t.”

“Don’t read into this, Anna. It would be a mistake to romanticize me.”

“I’m not,” she assures me. “It was a nice gesture. That’s all.”

Is it? If she believes that, we are both fools.

She wears the necklace to meet Belial. I have to remind myself it’s just an inanimate object. An accessory. Not a big deal. But she keeps reaching up and touching it as she stares off, deep in thought.

I have bunged things up royally, and I haven’t a clue how to turn it back. Nothing good can come of this, especially once she meets her father. I want to give her a list of warnings—don’t tell your father about me, don’t let him know how good you are, guard yourself and be careful what you say—but I can’t say any of this because we’re in the prison parking lot now and Belial could be listening.

The visitor doors open and I swallow hard. “You’re up,” I say.

I feel ill when she enters the building and leaves my sight. I remain still and listen carefully as she makes it through security, moves into an echoey room, and sits. Soon there are sounds of chains and feet shuffling. I cannot move. I feel paralyzed with helplessness. I’m listening so intently I can hear the shake of Anna’s breath. I nearly jump when a guard tells “LaGray” to sit. I didn’t know Belial’s earthly name.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” says a deep, scratchy voice. I assume this is Belial, and I’m momentarily floored by the gentleness there. He goes on, “. . . I wanted you to have a normal life.”

“There was never any chance of that,” Anna says softly.

She doesn’t sound scared, and I feel my own fear subsiding. Especially when Belial asks, “Have they treated you well, the people who raised you?”

His voice is filled with concern. And as I continue listening for a bit, realization soon hits me—he loves her. Of course he does. Patti was right. I’m certain Belial can sense the depth of her goodness, just as Duke Alocer can sense the goodness in Kopano. They are the sort of Neph who can soften even the hearts of demons. They are the kind of Neph who deserve love.

A knot that cannot be swallowed forms in my throat. Knowing Anna is safe, I start the car and drive away.

I peruse L.A. like a sightseer for a couple hours, but I don’t really see anything because my mind’s a disaster. I don’t understand the things I feel. I’ve always been a moody bastard, but this is beyond my normal scope. I go from rage to tenderness to terror to happiness in a few blinks. Anna’s angel voodoo is a dangerous tonic. This is worse than being piss-arsed drunk—it doesn’t seem to want to burn off.

I return to the prison with only minutes to spare—L.A. traffic blows.

I push my hearing through the walls of concrete and steel until I find that gruff voice once more, “. . . might be different for you. Your mother’s good might cancel out my bad. We don’t know . . .”

I let out a full breath. She’s fine. For the first time ever I feel strange about eavesdropping, so I pull back and ponder his words. I wonder if he’s talking about what I think he is: hell. And the fact that Neph are sent to hell after death, no matter what kind of life we’ve lived. Yes, perhaps it will be different for Anna. Her soul is too good for that kind of darkness. It would be the ultimate injustice, and I’m deeply disturbed pondering her suffering.

I step from the car and lean against it, waiting. From what I can tell, Anna didn’t get a verbal beating from her father, and I’m glad for her. When the doors open, and Anna filters out with the others, all the madness I felt today disappears. My blood rushes at the sight of her. But as she gets closer, the look on her face halts my thoughts.

Something is wrong. She ignores me and climbs into the car. I go around to the driver’s side and get us out of there. I want to ask what he did and what he said, but we’re still within his five-mile hearing range.

When we’re far enough away, I’m about to ask how it went, but she buries her face in her hands and cries the most pitiful, heart-wrenching tears I’ve ever heard. I have no idea what to say or do to make this better, which makes me feel weak and powerless.

Have I mentioned I hate when girls cry?

Thankfully, after five minutes of this she gives a loud sniff, wipes her eyes, squares her shoulders, and swallows away the rest of her tears.

“Were you listening?” she asks in a thick voice.

“A bit at the beginning and end, to make sure you were all right.”

She nods and proceeds to tell me every detail of their conversation. I usually zone out when girls talk this much, but I’m completely rapt with Anna’s storytelling. She pulls one knee up and turns her body toward me in the passenger seat, talking fast. I listen to the story of her parents’ epic, forbidden love—how they were soul mates in heaven before the Fall, and how he became a Duke to search for her on earth, finally finding her working as a guardian angel. Anna’s mother, Mariantha, broke all heavenly rules to inhabit her human charge’s drug-sickened body and be with Belial. He never cared about hurting humans, though he pushed drugs to keep his position and he was good at it. But all along, he only cared about Mariantha. For the first time ever, I find myself relating to a Duke.