He looked blank for a moment; then realization dawned. Of course he knew about my mother. “Your mother has nothing to do with it. I expect someone will be escorting her to hell sooner or later.”

I’m afraid I was a bad enough daughter to chuckle at the thought. Maybe that’s why I’d been sent to hell.

“I don’t know why I was sent to get you any more than you do,” he went on in his slightly formal way. “Why did Uriel decide you were to go to hell instead of heaven?”

“Uriel? He’s one of the four archangels, isn’t he? What’s he got to say about it?”

I’d managed to surprise him. “How do you know about the four archangels? Most people aren’t that familiar with biblical history.”

“I know more than you think,” I said. “It’s part of my job.”

“What’s your job?” He looked blank. “I’ve forgotten—”

“I’m a writer. A novelist.”

“Maybe that explains why you were going to hell,” Raziel said in a wry voice.

“Shut up,” I said genially. “What’s Uriel got to do with who needs an escort or not? I don’t remember much of anything specific about him—wasn’t he the archangel of redemption?”

He was staring at me, momentarily forgetting I annoyed him. “Among other things. How do you know these things?”

“I told you.”

“Remind me—what do you write?”

I didn’t bother to disguise my irritation. He remembered my crackpot mother, but my life’s work was easily forgotten. “Old Testament mysteries,” I said in a testy voice. “They’re tongue-in-cheek, of course, and a little sarcastic, but—”

“There’s your answer. Uriel is as pitiless as a demon, and he has no sense of humor.”

“I got sentenced to hell for writing murder mysteries?” I demanded, incensed.

“Probably. Unless you have other dark secrets. Have you killed anyone? Erected false idols? Committed adultery? Consorted with demons?”

“Not until today,” I muttered.

“I’m not a demon.”

“Close enough. I know what I saw downstairs. You may be an angel, but you’re a vampire as well.” My head was about to explode.

“We’re not vampires. Vampires don’t exist. We’re blood-eaters.”

I’m afraid I rolled my eyes at such nit-picking. “Whatever. I’m not saying I believe you. I’m trying to keep an open mind about it.”

“How broad-minded of you,” he said, his voice acidic.

“Besides, you’re not very nice for an angel,” I observed. “I thought angels were supposed to be sweet and, er . . . angelic.”

“You’re thinking in modern terms. An angel is just as likely to be the instrument of divine justice with a flaming sword to smite the unworthy.”

“And what kind of angel are you, precisely?”

“Fallen.”

I should have gotten past being shocked by now. “Fallen?” I repeated, no doubt sounding a little slow on the uptake.

“I think you’ve heard enough for now,” he said. “Humans have a limited capacity to absorb this sort of thing.”

“Who the hell are you to tell me what I can or cannot absorb? You haven’t even begun to explain the blood and Sarah and—”

He gestured with one beautiful, elegant hand. It was a strong hand, which surprised me. Angels didn’t do any manual labor, did they? So they ferried people to heaven and hell—that didn’t require any particular strength. And what—

It was like someone had turned out the lights. Suddenly I was drifting in a cocoon, soundless, lightless, no sharp edges or uneven surfaces. I struggled for just a moment, because it felt like death, and I didn’t want to find myself in even worse trouble; then I heard Raziel’s rich, golden voice in my head: “Let go, Allie. Just let go.”

So I did.

I LOOKED AT HER, NOT moving. I didn’t want her here, didn’t want her anywhere around me. She’d slid farther down on the floor, her head resting against the seat cushion of the couch, and she looked . . . delicious. That is, if I were someone else. She was not what I needed. I poured myself another glass of wine and leaned back, surveying her as dispassionately as I could.

Which was easier said than done. For all the distance I was putting between us, I couldn’t ignore the fact that she’d saved my life, as surely as I’d saved her from Uriel’s pit of hell; and the unfortunate truth was that we were bound together, whether I wanted it or not. I most definitely didn’t want it, and the timing couldn’t have been worse.

I was thinking too much, forgetting the rule of blind obedience, the rule that Uriel tried to force down our throats, usually with little success. If I’d just tossed her and left, my life would be much simpler, and the Fallen wouldn’t be bracing for angelic retribution on top of everything else.

It was just as well she didn’t know much about Uriel. There was no doubt he was one scary motherfucker, and she was probably scared enough as it was.

Though she hadn’t looked scared. She’d simply taken in the information I’d given her, with no drama, no hysterics. I was used to a little more Sturm und Drang when I told people they were dead. She’d just blinked her warm brown eyes and said, “Crap.”

I stretched out on the other couch, looking at her. I was feeling better than I’d felt in months. Azazel was right, damn it. I’d needed the Source, rich blood filling all the empty places inside my body, repairing the broken parts, bringing me back to life. A little too much life, in fact. Because I wanted to fuck Allie Watson.

Hear that, Uriel? I sent the thought outward. Fuck and mother fuck. Deal with it.

She stirred, almost as if she could read my mind. Impossible—that Grace was given only to a bonded mate. I could read her anytime I wanted to, but there was no way she could know what I was thinking.

I shouldn’t bother trying to feel her thoughts. I was already too attached to her, whether I liked it or not. One thing was certain—I was not going to have sex with her, even if I wanted to. Hands off from now on, at least while she was awake.

Old Testament mysteries. I snorted. No wonder Uriel had judged her. She was just lucky it had been my turn. She wouldn’t have stood a chance with Azazel or any of the others—they would have tossed her without a second glance.

Which would have been a shame, I thought lazily, watching the rise and fall of her breasts beneath the loose white clothes Sarah had provided for her.

She’d saved me last night in the forest. If she hadn’t listened, if she’d run, the Nephilim would have ripped her apart and then devoured my paralyzed body.