"Yeah? You're with me for my winning personality?"

The truth was, I still wasn't sure at times why I was with him. I couldn't help but recall his comments about me keeping him as a bed warmer, but true or not, now wasn't the time to bring that up. Plus, he'd been sweet lately-something I'd never expected when I'd turned to him in my post-Seth rage.

"Dante, I'm serious. Don't worry about any of this. I'll take care of it and talk to my friends."

I saw from the look on his face that that wasn't quite what he'd wanted to hear. Knowing I had other people to go to seemed to make him feel more inadequate.

"You shouldn't be involved in this at all," he said.

"What, in finding Jerome? Of course I have to be."

"There are others, people who are more powerful. I don't want you getting hurt again! Why can't you just lie low and keep yourself safe?" he demanded.

"Because it's not what I do! And no one else is going to do it anyway. They're just letting this go. Letting Jerome go."

"Why don't you let it go?" he asked. "Would it be so bad to work under another demon? You've worked for others."

I turned and gazed out the window. The sky was blue, but something told me it was cold out. It was a quirk of Seattle weather. We often had warmer temperatures when it was cloudy out, colder ones when it was sunny. Dragging my eyes back to Dante, I said, "Yeah, I have. But this is different. This isn't right-it shouldn't have happened. I have to find Jerome."

"Yes. You do. It's written all over you. Why do you have to make everything so difficult and create these problems?"

"If you're unhappy, no one's making you stick around," I said quietly.

"Of course I'm sticking around. And if there's nothing to be done for your impulsivity, I might as well help." He snatched up the photo and glared at it. "Let me take this and ask some questions. I might not know what it is-yet-but there are resources I can tap."

There was a hard set to his face. He was a man with a mission, which I preferred to him being down on himself or ranting at me. I was about to send him off with my blessings, but something held me back. I couldn't let the picture go.

"I want to keep the photo," I told him.

He stared. "You don't think I'll bring it back?"

"No, I'm not worried about that. But I did a lot to get it, and besides, I want to show it to some people too. We'll make a copy of it. You can take that."

"Yeah? You got a copy machine in the bathroom?"

"Can't you just draw it or something?"

"Succubus."

"Well, I don't know! But if you want to do sleuthing, you're going to have to find a workaround. Until I feel like traipsing around the city with you, I want the picture to stay with me."

He glowered, looking very much like his usual bitter self. Finally, realizing I wasn't going to yield, he did a hasty trace of the medallion onto another sheet of paper. He added a few notes off to the side and did his best approximation of the symbols. He seemed miserable the entire time.

"Sorry," I said.

"It's fine," he said.

"You're going now?"

"If you think you'll be okay."

I assured him I would be. My phone was nearby, and I had a feeling if he stayed, he'd just grow more and more upset about how he'd let me down and about how I was putting myself at risk for reasons he didn't understand. At least this gave him a feeling of purpose. I promised to call if something happened and breathed a sigh of relief when he finally left.

I stayed in bed for a while after that, consuming my calorie-laden breakfast and thinking about his extreme reaction. I hoped he'd find something out for me, and in the meantime, I needed to do some investigating of my own. First things first, though. I needed to shower.

It turned out to be harder than I expected-but not impossible. I just had to move slowly when I walked to the bathroom, careful not to get too ambitious. Hugh's bandages still covered my back, and it took a fair bit of dexterity to remove them. They were soaked with blood, but underneath, the cuts showed signs of Mei's healing. They were still there, still uncomfortable, but had all scabbed over and were much smaller. I kept the water lukewarm as I showered and was careful when I toweled off to not break any of the scabs open.

By the time I was sitting on my couch in the living room, I felt like I'd run a marathon. I'd never wanted shape-shifting so badly in my life. I wore loose clothes-drawstring pants and a T-shirt without a bra-but it had taken some effort to put them on. My hair I'd given up on completely, figuring combing it out would have to do. I didn't have the patience to dry it and didn't want to think about the frizziness I was inviting.

Aubrey joined me on the couch as I rested from my morning labors and flipped through the channels. After cycling through twice, I gave up and left the TV on some sort of nature show about Siberian tigers. Aubrey watched it with wide eyes, but I wasn't interested.

"This is your equivalent of reality television," I observed.

"The talk shows don't come on until later," a voice suddenly said. "That's when things get good."

I sighed. "Carter. What a pleasant surprise."

The angel strolled into my line of sight and sat down on the armchair opposite me. Aubrey immediately left me and hopped onto his lap.

"Traitor," I said.

He grinned and scratched her head. "Word on the street is that you had a bad day yesterday."

"I've had worse," I said. "Marginally. You should have seen me before Mei healed me."

"Bah, demons can't heal. Not really. They lose the finesse it takes when they cross over."

"Hey, I'll take what help I can get." I brightened. "And speaking of help, I think I've got a picture of the seal-"

"No."

"No what?"

"I know what you're going to ask, and the answer is no."

"You have no idea what I'm going to ask!"

"You're going to ask me to help identify the seal so you can figure out where Jerome is."

I stayed silent. Damn.

He rolled his eyes. "And the answer is no."

"But you could make this so much easier," I argued. "Dante's out trying to figure out what the seal means. You could tell me right now."

"Georgina, I told you before. I can't interfere."

"Then why are you here?"

"To see how you're feeling. Believe me, I wish I could interfere. I'd do a better healing job than Mei."

I fell silent, mind spinning. "Were you here yesterday?"

"Doing what?"

"Look, I won't consider it interfering, but just tell me if it was you."

Carter didn't look confused very often. If anything, he was usually the one messing with other people's minds. I think under normal circumstances, when the immortal state of affairs in Seattle wasn't in limbo, he would have faked it and hidden his confusion. Now, he just shook his head in exasperation.

"What are you talking about?"

"Someone was here after Nanette beat me up. A guy. He put me to bed and called Hugh."

"It wasn't me."

"Technically, it wouldn't even be interfering."

"Georgina," he said sternly. "Listen. It wasn't me."

I held his gaze and shivered at the intensity in his eyes. His were gray, but whereas Dante's were like leaden clouds on a winter day, Carter's were like gleaming silver.

"It wasn't you," I said at last. He'd answered directly, with none of the half-truths and subterfuge angels normally employed. He'd answered directly, and angels couldn't lie. "I suppose you didn't blow up the stove either?"

"No."

"Who did, then? You said in Vancouver you'd try to protect me. I figured this was you."

"It's possible the stove blew up because of a gas leak."

"Maybe," I grumbled.

He smiled, instantly transforming him to the mocking angel I usually knew. "Believe me, Daughter of Lilith, I wish I could take credit for these things. And if it comes down to it, and I have the means and ability, I will try to protect you. For now, I've still got to stay out of this."