“Been listening at windows again?” I said nastily.

“You don’t have time to cover your head with a pillow.”

“I’ll thank you not to tell me how to deal with my own grief,” I said, storming out of the kitchen and into the bathroom.

I turned on the water for the shower, fuming. It didn’t matter that part of me knew Beezle was right. I didn’t want to be told that my behavior was unacceptable, that it wasn’t okay to feel so sad, so sick with loss that I couldn’t get out of bed. Because if losing your first and only love wasn’t justification for that, then what was?

By the time I’d gotten out of the shower, I’d cooled down. I’d also realized a few things.

One, Beezle was right. (I’d never tell him, though.)

Two, I needed to do something about Nathaniel before Lucifer popped by for a family visit and made the decision for me.

Three, my husband’s killer was still out there and I’d done nothing about it.

I got dressed, combed my hair and wound it into a braid. My face was white and my eyes were rimmed with dark circles. I looked about as sickly as Nathaniel did.

I made a quick phone call to Jude, then marched out of the bedroom loaded for bear. Beezle was nowhere to be seen, which meant that either Samiel was done “entertaining” Chloe and he’d fled downstairs, or the gargoyle was hiding from me so that he wouldn’t have to deal with my wrath. I shoved a granola bar in my mouth and hoped it would suffice for breakfast.

The fancy coat Lucifer had given me hung by the front door. I pulled it on, collected my sword, keys and cell phone and headed downstairs. I peeked through the outside door.

Nathaniel was asleep on the front porch. His back rested against the railing, his eyes were closed and his very long legs stuck out in front of him. His breath rose and fell in an even rhythm. He looked wiped out, and I had to remind myself not to feel sorry for him. Whatever condition he was in now was his own fault. And I still wasn’t sure I could trust him.

I stepped out the front door and kicked him in the ankle to wake him. His eyes opened immediately and he came swiftly to his feet without a sound.

“Some bodyguard,” I said.

He looked chagrined. “I… I have not been sleeping well, or often, of late. I assure you this is not a regular habit.”

I gave him an assessing look. “I’m going to Azazel’s court to see if I can find any clues about where he might have gone and what he’s up to now. You can come with me, and if you don’t annoy me, I’ll let you stay here so that Lucifer doesn’t kill you.”

“Madeline…” he began.

“But you are not my bodyguard. Number one, I don’t need one. Number two, you’ll probably just get in my way. And you’re not sleeping in my apartment.”

“Shall I remain on the porch, then?” he asked coolly.

“No,” I said, thinking fast. “You can sleep in the basement.”

The basement wasn’t in the best of shape, but it was finished and there was an old sofa with a pullout bed down there. It got a little cold in the winter, but since Nathaniel had spent the night on my porch in January in Chicago, he could probably deal with a little chill.

“The basement is quite far from you in the event you need me,” Nathaniel said tentatively. It was a little unnerving to see that expression on his face.

“You’ll be close enough,” I said. Too close, actually, if Nathaniel wanted to sneak up on me in the middle of the night and slit my throat.

He hesitated for a moment, as if he were considering arguing some more, but I’m sure he realized he wasn’t going to get a better offer from me.

“Very well. I look forward to proving my worth to you,” he said, some of his old arrogance returning. “How shall we travel to L… Azazel’s mansion?”

I pretended not to notice that he’d nearly said “Lord Azazel.” I imagined some habits were very difficult to break.

“Portal is fastest, but I don’t want to arrive inside the property.”

He nodded. “That is wise. Even if Azazel has abandoned his home, there may yet be soldiers loyal to him that were left behind.”

“I don’t know why you would bother staying loyal to someone who would ditch you, but whatever. Can you get us close to the house without putting us directly in it?”

“There is a little-used road that runs along the front of Azazel’s property,” he said slowly. “The disadvantage of arriving there is that we will be easily seen by anyone looking out the front of the mansion.”

“Yeah, but that will be a problem no matter which direction we approach from. The house is surrounded by open lawn. There’s no tree cover close to the mansion,” I said, picturing Azazel’s estate in my head. “The road is probably the closest we can get without actually being on the property.”

“The portal will be less conspicuous if we leave from your backyard,” Nathaniel said.

“I’m not sure I should even bother trying to be inconspicuous at this point,” I said, but I followed Nathaniel into the back.

“Hold on a sec,” I said, crossing to the small shed that I used to store gardening supplies.

It was one of those home-supply-store do-it-yourself jobs, and several Chicago winters had taken their toll on it. The doors didn’t quite shut all the way, and the metal sides and roof were dented and rusted. I yanked one of the doors open and gagged at the smell that billowed out.

I covered my nose with my sleeve and peeked inside. The corpse of the Bad Man was propped in the corner. It was decomposing far too rapidly for the frigid temperatures. Chunks of burned flesh and skin had already fallen off bone, and it seemed as though the body had shrunk.

“You may not have to worry about disposing of the corpse,” Nathaniel said. “It will likely be completely gone by tomorrow.”

I shut the door. “Let’s just hope the police don’t show up in the meantime. J.B.’s got enough to deal with already.”

4

NATHANIEL RAISED AN EYEBROW AT ME.

“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “It’s an Agency thing.”

He conjured a portal in the center of the yard. Litter from the alley behind us skittered across the ground and into the swirling tunnel. The branches of trees bent toward the portal.

“My lady,” Nathaniel said, indicating I should enter.

“Uh-uh,” I said, shaking my head. “While I’d normally be thrilled at this demonstration of respect for my skills, I think you can go first.”

“You believe I would deliberately send you into harm,” Nathaniel said flatly.

I just looked at him, my arms crossed.

“Someday you will realize you can trust me,” he said angrily, and stepped into the portal.

“That day is not today,” I muttered, and followed him. I hoped there wasn’t an assassin waiting for me on the other side.

My head felt like it might collapse under the pressure of traveling through the portal. This kind of travel was a lot harder on me than it was on Nathaniel. The strain of mortality in me made negotiating the supernatural world several degrees more difficult than it was for all the immortals that hung around.

I tumbled out the opening, expecting to fall flat on my face as usual (somehow I still haven’t mastered the knack of landing on my feet). Instead, Nathaniel caught me easily around the waist, holding me just at his eye level.

His hands were hot. I could feel their warmth through the layers of clothing I wore. There was an unwelcome flare of something I didn’t want to name inside me, and I was reminded of all the times Gabriel had caught me just this way when I’d come through a portal behind him.

“Put me down,” I said. I didn’t need to feel any more confused about Nathaniel than I already was.

He lowered me to the ground, but didn’t release me, his eyes searching mine. I pushed his hands off and stepped back.

“Keep your hands to yourself,” I said, now embarrassed beyond measure because I’d revealed something to him that I’d have preferred he’d never seen.

“Of course,” he said coolly, and moved away from me.

Then a gigantic wolf slammed into him.

A second later Nathaniel was flat on his back with a red-and-silver wolf snapping at his throat.

“Jude!” I shouted.

The wolf growled, glancing back at me.

“Don’t kill him,” I said.

Jude growled again, turning to Nathaniel and showing the angel his teeth.

“Don’t,” I repeated.

He gave one last menacing grumble close to Nathaniel’s face. The angel had lain very still while Jude stood on top of him, correctly interpreting that the wolf would kill him without blinking if he moved an inch.

Jude stepped off Nathaniel’s chest. He went blurry for a moment, and then there was a man standing before me. A six-foot-four, 220-pound na**d man.

I covered my eyes. It was like seeing my brother na**d. “Where did you put your clothes?”

“Why is he here?” Jude said angrily. “I thought the ceiling fell on him in Azazel’s court and he was dead.”

“Please get dressed and I’ll explain,” I said, getting tired of staring at the backs of my fingers.

Jude blew out a breath; then I heard him move noisily through the grass. I knew it was deliberate because Jude can be more silent than air when he wants to.

“The wolf has gone into the woods,” Nathaniel said.

I uncovered my eyes and took a look around for the first time. We stood on the edge of a forest that ran along the road across from Azazel’s mansion. The house itself was directly opposite us, perched on top of a small rise. It was surrounded by a long, open slope of snow-covered grass on three sides.

I knew from my last visit that the back of the house had a similar open expanse, filled only by flower beds and topiary animals. The remainder of the property stretched away into the woods.

Gabriel had once told me that Azazel’s estate covered dozens of miles. There were certainly no sounds of humanity anywhere—no cars on the road, no people hiking through the trees. There weren’t even any planes flying overhead. It was almost as if they wouldn’t dare to cross Azazel’s airspace, or perhaps he had arranged for them not to.