"Oh yes," I said. "I have so missed these cryptic conversations."

Carter crooked me a grin. "I'm glad to see you're back to your old self."

"I've missed the sarcasm too."

"No, I'm serious. You weren't a lot of fun these last few months. You were kind of…"

"…bitchy?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. You were angry and depressed and frustrated. You stopped caring about the people around you. You weren't…well, you."

"You don't know me or what I am."

"I know you better than you think. I know you're still hurting and think the universe has given up on you. It hasn't. I also know that as far as all this demon business is concerned, your curiosity is going to tangle you up further in something you shouldn't be involved with in the first place. Jerome," he declared, "is a fool."

"Do you know what's going on?" I asked eagerly, coming to a stop. "Who's leading that cult? Who's supposedly running this huge game that's going on that I can't see?"

"No," said Carter, expression dark. "I don't know any of that. But if I were you, I'd get back to Seattle soon. Stay close to Jerome."

"He hates me right now."

"No, he doesn't. Stay close to him. He'll protect you. If he can't…well, I will. If I can."

There was nothing romantic in his offer of protection. It wasn't spoken with chivalrous fierceness. His manner was uneasy, like he was dealing with a last resort. I also couldn't help but replay his last words: if I can . Angels-or demons-didn't use the word "if" very often.

"What do you mean if-"

"Go back home, Daughter of Lilith." He tipped his head back to stare at the night sky, blew smoke into the air, and then looked down at me with his silvery gray eyes. "We'll talk soon."

He dropped the cigarette to the sidewalk and vanished.

I glanced around, worried someone had seen us, but we'd walked far from the partiers. I stamped out the cigarette, turned, and headed back in the direction of all the nightlife to go find some guys I'd noticed checking me out. A night with drunken men might still leave me feeling hollow, but at least their motives were easier to understand than angels'.

I was starting to envy the teleportation that higher immortals used. I'd always complained about it in the past (it tended to be a bit disorienting), but suddenly, a spot of dizziness seemed trivial compared to doing the Vancouver-Seattle drive yet again. Annoying or not, I was anxious to talk to Jerome, so as soon as Cedric gave me leave to go home the next day, I hit the road back to the States.

Isabelle had seemed convincing enough in denying her role in the Army's shenanigans, and both Carter and Cedric seemed certain she wasn't involved either. I couldn't dismiss any leads here, however, not when my permanent return to Seattle was on the line and certainly not when someone was actually messing with Seattle itself. Isabelle might truly be innocent, but I wasn't going to shut the door on this until I'd run it by Jerome.

"It seems like you're here more than you are there," noted Hugh when I called to tell him I was back in town. "Doesn't really seem like you're being punished all that much."

"Punishment's subjective. Do you know where Jerome's at?"

"Last I knew, he was meeting someone."

"The Cellar?"

"Mmm, no…that new bar in Capitol Hill. Clement's."

"Is he going to be mad if I show up while he's at a lunch meeting?"

"If he doesn't want to be interrupted, you won't be able to find him."

Fair point. Without going home, I drove straight to Capitol Hill, finding street parking that wasn't actually too far from Cody and Peter's apartment. Clement's was a new place that had gone in recently, a bit sleeker and trendier than the Cellar, which was a divey haunt in Pioneer Square we immortals often frequented. Clement's had the same upscale feel and designer drink menu that Mark's had had, and I had a hard time convincing myself that a drink probably wasn't the best idea while I was here in the midst of demonic business.

I spotted Jerome right away. He was at a back table, facing the doorway. His eyes met mine as I approached, my signature declaring my presence, just as his came through to me. Only, his wasn't the only immortal aura there. I recognized the bearer's identity before the woman seated across from him even turned around.

Nanette.

I came to a stop by their table, speechless more from surprise than fear. Jerome and Nanette together? When had this come about? There was a sly smile on her face, like she was in on some joke the rest of us weren't. She had on another cute sundress, lavender silk that looked great with her blond hair, though the spring weather didn't quite seem warm enough for it yet. Of course, when you were a demon, I supposed the fires of Hell kept you warm.

"Georgie," said Jerome, not unpleasantly, "it seems like you're here more than you are in Vancouver."

"Cedric sent me home. He doesn't seem to want me around if I'm not doing something specific."

Nanette chuckled and paused to take a drink of what looked like a Lemon Drop martini. "I imagine so, after that spectacle yesterday. Brilliant work, I might add."

I grimaced, deciding to out myself and risk losing Jerome's regard. "I actually didn't have anything to do with that. They did it without telling me."

Jerome didn't seem to mind. "That footage is all over YouTube. I've watched it a hundred times."

This whole thing was so confusing. Jerome ostensibly wanted me to help Cedric unravel the cult, yet my boss clearly took great pleasure in seeing the progress stall out. Again I felt like I was missing a piece of the picture here, making me even less secure about my position.

"Look," I said. "I don't want to interrupt your drinks. I'd just been hoping to chat with Jerome, but I can find you later."

Nanette downed her martini and stood up. "No, no. We're finished here. Have my seat."

I was hesitant, but she was insistent, and Jerome didn't appear to be too put out at her departure. She walked out of the bar like a normal human, not bothering with any elaborate teleportation-at least not while others could see her. He gestured toward her chair, and I sat down.

"So, what can I do for you, Georgie?" Jerome was drinking brandy, something more suited to a night by the fire than a Sunday afternoon.

"You were hanging out with Nanette?" I asked, momentarily putting Isabelle on hold.

"As you saw."

"I told you about her meeting with Cedric."

"And?"

"And, doesn't it seem weird that she's meeting with each of you behind the other's back?"

"It's not behind anyone's back," he countered. "I know she met with Cedric, and she knows I know."

Isabelle was moving farther and farther to the back burner of my mind. Suddenly, it all seemed perfectly obvious. Isabelle had denied being the angel because she didn't want her situation to change. Nanette, however, did want change. She wanted to stop feeling like Cedric and Jerome were eyeing her territory and squeezing her between them. She'd claimed her meeting with Cedric was defensive on her part, yet I couldn't help but wonder if she might be more on the offensive than any of us realized.

"Georgie," said Jerome dryly. "I can see those wheels in your head spinning. What are you thinking?"

Starting with the meeting at Tim Hortons, I gave Jerome a full report of my experiences with the Army and the theories I'd put together about the Angel of Darkness being a literal angel-Isabelle.

"Ridiculous," said Jerome. "It's not her."

"You sound just as certain as Cedric did."

He shrugged, almost looking embarrassed to have agreed with his rival. "Because she's not running any cult. I've met her. She's not the type."