He threatened to put Grape-Nuts in my bedsheets if I didn’t make waffles.
Just make sure he actually does the dishes instead of supervising, I replied. Grape-Nuts in your bed is a pretty diabolical punishment. Those little grainy things would probably get everywhere. How would you ever get them out completely?
“We saved some waffles for you. They’re in the fridge,” Beezle said.
I looked down at my nonexistent abs and sighed. “I can’t have waffles.”
Beezle smirked. “Because of your diet.”
“I am going to lose thirty pounds,” I said. “Stop trying to sabotage me by bringing doughnuts into the house.”
“No one is making you eat them.”
“No, but you are making me buy them,” I said. “You could be supportive, you know.”
Beezle made a little “pfft” noise.
“And what would you do if I stopped going to the pastry shop for you?” I said.
“You would deny an old gargoyle a few simple pleasures before I turn to stone?” he said, putting on his best I-am-so-adorable-you-can’t-resist-me face.
“You act like you’re going to turn tomorrow,” I said.
“Who knows?” Beezle shrugged. “It could happen very suddenly.”
“So could a heart attack from saturated fat overload,” I said, and went to the kitchen to make oatmeal. My virtuous breakfast didn’t taste nearly as good as Samiel’s waffles looked.
After the movie was over they came in the kitchen and Beezle started washing dishes with a lot of long-suffering sighing. I told them about what had happened with the ghost I’d found, and how J.B. thought it had something to do with the fallen.
“It probably does,” Gabriel said from the door.
I turned slowly, my heart beating faster, the way it always did when I heard his voice. He leaned in the doorjamb, hands in the pocket of his ever-present overcoat. His face was implacable as always.
“I didn’t hear you come up,” I said.
“You gave me permission to come and go as I pleased. I have come for Samiel’s morning lesson,” he said.
Gabriel was teaching Samiel to channel his powers in a more productive way. Samiel had been raised by a monstrous nephilim and a psychotic angel who’d drilled vengeance into him from the moment of his first breath, and thus mostly knew how to use his powers for destruction. I was very interested in keeping Samiel alive and under the radar of the Grigori, so Gabriel had undertaken the task of making Samiel a more productive member of supernatural society.
“Have your orders changed, mistress?”
“Don’t start with the ‘mistress’ crap,” I said angrily. “I’ve already gotten enough passive-aggressive BS from my other not-a-boyfriend this morning.”
Gabriel nodded stiffly. “As you wish.”
“And my name’s not Buttercup, either.”
I sighed. I didn’t know how much longer the two of us could go on this way. It seemed Gabriel resented me more because I refused to act like his owner. Since I’d already thrown down with J.B., I wasn’t in the mood for another confrontation with Gabriel, especially with Beezle and Samiel watching us like we were the best reality TV ever.
“Why do you think the ghosts have something to do with the fallen? Their own accords state that they aren’t supposed to harm mortals.”
“And you have witnessed for yourself just how well some of Lord Lucifer’s minions follow those accords,” Gabriel replied.
“Not very well at all,” I said, thinking of Focalor and his bid for power.
My darling great-grandfather had told me that Focalor would be punished for his actions at Amarantha’s court. I hadn’t heard what that punishment was, but I was certain it had been swift and severe. Lucifer had to make sure that his other courts understood that treason would not be tolerated.
Samiel rapped his knuckles on the counter so we would all look at him. But to murder mortals and leave their souls in such a state—that law is one that even the most rogue of Lucifer’s court would not break. Lucifer is not interested in the death of mortals.
“No,” Beezle agreed. “He wants to collect them.”
“Because every creature on his side increases his base of power,” I said. “All he’s really interested in is lording his strength over the other supernatural communities.”
“Which is why he is so interested in you, Madeline,” Gabriel said. “You have strength and power that you have not yet begun to imagine, and Lord Lucifer knows this. It is also why you have become such an interesting target for the other courts.”
“Yeah, moving on,” I said. I didn’t like to think too closely about my value to Lucifer and my consequent dead-or-alive value to his enemies. That way lay indigestion and sleepless nights. “Look, the last two times there were deaths outside of the natural order it was because of Lucifer’s sons, so I can see why you and J.B. would think it would have something to do with him again. But really—how many more sons could he have floating around?”
Beezle arched his brow at me pointedly. “Lucifer has been alive for millennia.”
And therefore would have had millennia to reap and sow, as it were, I thought. Was I really going to have to go through this again—stumbling onto more secrets in Lucifer’s kingdom, hunting down another of his children? How many innocents would die before I figured things out?
We all stood silently, each of us brooding on our thoughts. The doorbell rang. Beezle fluttered up and away from the sink, clearly thrilled to have a reason to leave the dishes.
“I’d better see who it is,” he said, speeding toward the window.
“You have to finish the washing when you come back!” I shouted after him.
“With any luck, it will be something horrible and you’ll be distracted for the next several hours,” Beezle snapped back over his shoulder.
I looked at Gabriel, who gave me a sad little half smile. Beezle was probably right. My doorbell rang only when bad things were about to happen. Maybe I should tear the stupid thing off.
Beezle zipped back in through the kitchen window, pulling it shut behind him. “It’s cold out there. It’s Jude at the door.”
I frowned. Jude was a werewolf that I had met about a month ago. I was friendly with Wade, Jude’s alpha, but Jude himself didn’t think very much of me. He hated anyone related to Lucifer.
I trooped downstairs to see what Jude wanted. My household entourage followed me, Gabriel and Samiel crowding on the stairs and Beezle plunking himself on my shoulder.
“Hasn’t anyone in this house ever heard of privacy?” I muttered.
“No,” Beezle said. “Your business is my business, and you’re only going to tell the other two anyway.”
And if Jude was there to claw me to death, Gabriel and Samiel could probably intervene before too much bodily damage occurred.
I swung the door open and saw Jude through the exterior door standing outside on the porch with his back to us. This was standard for supernatural creatures—they couldn’t cross the threshold of my house without my permission. I pushed open the exterior door and tried not to think about the fact that Gabriel was standing right behind me, the warmth of his body radiating into my skin and making my clothes feel uncomfortably tight.
Jude turned when he heard the door open, and I gasped. His face and hands were covered in blood and his eyes were wild.
“You have to come. Wade’s missing.”
2