"Well…for what it's worth, I think you're doing a great job. You've had to do so much clean-up and damage control, and then with all these demons…" I shook my head. "I don't know. They'd be stupid not to recognize that."

The strangest look came over Grace's face. I would have almost called it surprise, but her careful, icy composure made it hard to say for sure. "Thank you, Georgina." Her voice was stiff, like dealing with compliments made her uncomfortable. "I hope you'll share your feelings with Ephraim, should he speak with you."

"Sure," I said. "No problem."

After a quick glance at my kitchen clock, she turned back to me and gave a smart nod. "I have to meet with the others. I'll speak with you again soon." She vanished, but I could offer no farewell in return.

I had just seen something. Something that changed everything.

I stood frozen. This whole time, for the last week, something had been percolating in my head. I'd noted Grace and Mei's dedication to their job, how they were always there to help when chaos broke out. I'd noted also how they'd been forced to split up a lot lately with the new workload, and as Grace had said, they would now probably be scrutinized individually. And why wouldn't they be? If someone was going to scout for a new demon to run Seattle, why not look at the ones who were already running it?

"Oh my God," I breathed.

But there was more to it than that. It wasn't just that Grace or Mei had the perfect motive to get Jerome summoned. I had more than motive before me. I had proof.

Sprinting to my bedroom, I searched frantically for the photo of Mary's medallion, certain it would be gone. Nope. It was still there, knocked off my nightstand to the floor. I picked it up.

"Oh my God ."

There it was. When Grace had turned her head, I'd caught a fuller glimpse of the chunky necklace and its network of brown and black stones. The answer had been right in front of me. At the Cellar meeting, I'd noticed a piece of the necklace's stonework shaped like a crescent moon. I hadn't recognized it as anything more than ornamentation, but now, comparing the photo to what I'd just seen on Grace, the truth was obvious.

Grace had part of the seal. It was the left side of the medallion, separated in an irregular way to give it that fanciful crescent shape. But I'd seen the fine etchings of the symbols when she tilted her head. They were the same. It was the seal.

The picture fell from my hands, and I ran back to the living room, grappling for my cell phone. My hands shook, and I could barely dial. Of course, for a second, I wasn't sure who I was dialing. Hugh, I decided. I had to tell him and the rest of my friends that-

"Drop it."

A strong hand covered my mouth and jerked me backward. My back hit somebody, a tall man with a rock-solid chest. His other hand reached out and wrapped around my wrist, making the links of my watch dig in painfully.

"Drop it," he said. "I know what you saw. I saw it too. But you can't tell anyone. Not yet."

I could barely hear through the pounding of my heart in my ears, but it didn't matter. I knew this voice, knew it intimately. It had haunted my dreams-or rather, my nightmares-for the last six months. It was a sign of how truly out of it I'd been after Nanette attacked me that I hadn't recognized his voice that day.

I dropped the phone.

He released his grip on my wrist, and a moment later, the hand on my mouth moved away as well. Miraculously, I didn't start screaming. Slowly, slowly, I turned around, knowing exactly what I'd find. Blue-green eyes, just like the sea I'd grown up around.

"Roman."

There was really only one thing I could say.

"You're here to kill me."

That would have been a great cue for him to say something like, "No, of course not" or "Why would you think that?" Any of those responses, or a variation, would have been immensely reassuring.

Instead he said: "Not yet."

"Shit."

I took a couple steps back, knowing it wouldn't do any good. Even if I'd been in full succubus mode, there was no way I could fight against him. Roman was a nephilim, Jerome's half-human bastard son. Nephilim were a kind of odd mix between lesser and greater immortals. Nephilim hadn't been around since the universe's creation, but they had been born immortal and could potentially possess the same range of powers as a greater immortal. Roman was every bit as strong as Jerome, but unlike my boss or his equals, Roman didn't answer to any higher power. He was rogue, which made him dangerous when he was pissed off.

And he had every right to be pissed off at me. Angry at the way Heaven and Hell hunted their kind down, Roman and his twin sister Helena had gone on a vigilante hunting spree to get back at other immortals. I hadn't known that when he and I were dating, and eventually, I'd been instrumental in stopping them-and getting his sister killed.

"What are you doing here then?" I asked at last.

Roman's posture was casual as he crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. He looked exactly as I remembered, enormously tall compared to me, with soft black hair and those gorgeous eyes. "You sound disappointed," he said. "Do you want me to kill you?"

"No! Of course not. But I can't really think of any other reason you'd be here. Somehow I doubt you're here for a social call." Despite my fear, my sarcasm still managed to function. Carter had told me it was unlikely Roman would ever return to Seattle, knowing that he and Jerome would be on the lookout. Except, I realized uneasily, Jerome was no longer here to keep watch.

"I'm here to help find my illustrious sire." Roman's voice was smug as he spoke, and I was sure he was taking a great amount of pleasure in watching my reaction. I hoped he was satisfied because while my jaw didn't exactly hit the floor, it came pretty close.

"Bullshit."

"Why don't you believe me?"

"Because you have no reason to!" My fear was being overridden again, this time by incredulity. "You hate Jerome."

"Yeah, that's true."

"Stop playing with me then. You're not here to help."

"No? Then how come I helped you with the seal's notes?"

"You didn't-" I froze for a moment. "Oh lord. That was you."

"Really," said Roman amiably. "You should be a lot nicer, considering all the things I've done for you."

"Yeah? I don't recall you wasting your time wandering aimlessly along beaches."

"Nah. I've been too busy blowing up stoves and carrying injured damsels to bed."

I sank into a chair and closed my eyes. "It really wasn't Carter." The angel had been telling the truth about noninterference. I opened my eyes again. "And you gave me the matches, didn't you? That's exactly the kind of fucked-up thing you'd do."

He put on an offended air. "That was pretty nice of me, considering how you looked like you were ready to have a withdrawal seizure then and there."

"This doesn't make sense. You can't be here to help find Jerome. What's really going on?"

"Does the reason matter if I help find him?"

"Yes! It matters if you want to find him, only so you can promptly destroy him."

"I don't want to destroy him."

"I have no reason to trust you."

His eyes narrowed a bit. "And I have no reason to trust you, if memory serves."

I shrugged, almost too weary to be afraid anymore. "Well, then, we're even, huh? Except, of course, that you can channel your mistrust into blowing me off the face of the earth."

"And you could tell the demon horde out there that there's a nephilim in the city." Roman laughed. "Oh, they'd love that, wouldn't they? If one of them could hunt down and kill a nephilim, that'd pretty much cinch their position here."