“The upper brass don’t know what to think. I didn’t want to tell them about you and your mission ...”
“Thanks,” I said.
“. . . but I did tell them I thought the creatures that attacked the office were demons. They had no other explanation so they accepted it. They’ve been rushing around researching demons and trying to rebuild the wards.”
“J.B., why weren’t any of the deaths at the Agency presaged? I figured out why Ramuell’s murders weren’t, but what about Antares and the other demons? We should have known that Antares and his pals would attack.”
He shrugged. “The big guys at the top have been pretty close-lipped about that. Best I can figure is that since our system didn’t know about or recognize demons, then the seers couldn’t either. I’m not really sure how that works.
“The cleanup has been a total nightmare. We’ve convinced the city and the press that there was a gas leak that caused hallucinations and explosions, and that it was related to a similar incident on the north side at Clark and Belmont. On the positive side, I’ve been promoted. It seems the regional manager was eaten by some kind of glob monster, and several of the survivors credited me with heroism during the battle.” He smiled grimly, his eyes still closed.
“So you’re not my supervisor anymore,” I said, not knowing what else to say. It didn’t seem appropriate to congratulate J.B. for a promotion that came at the expense of someone’s life.
“No,” he said, and opened his eyes. “So this means that I can finally ask you out on a date.”
My mouth dropped open. In a week of surprises, nothing could have shocked me more than J. B. Bennett asking me out.
He took in my expression, smiled a little and then shifted around to get more comfortable, closing his eyes again. “You can answer me later.”
Something occurred to me. “J.B., have you been monitoring Agents with your secret powers?”
He smiled sleepily. “Not all the time. And not all Agents. Just you.”
By the time I came out of my stupor, he had fallen asleep. I covered him with a crocheted afghan and brushed a lock of hair away from his forehead.
A movement in the side window caught my eye. I glanced up and saw Antares hanging outside the window like a very ugly suncatcher. He licked the window. The acid on his tongue burned through the glass.
I flipped him the bird. He narrowed his eyes at me and bared his teeth. I deliberately turned my back on him and started to tidy the room. When I looked back, he was gone.
Beezle flew in the front window. “Antares was here,” he announced.
“Yep, I caught that,” I said.
Five days ago I was just an Agent. Now I was the daughter of a fallen angel, the great-granddaughter of Lucifer himself. My half brother was still running around trying to figure out a way to kill me, and apparently I’d pissed off Ariell’s son as well. I was engaged to a total asshole and magically bound to marry him, I was in big-time lust with a man who was forbidden to love me, and my boss had just asked me out. There was only one thing for me to do.
“Want Chinese?” I asked Beezle.
He pumped his tiny fist in the air. “Pork dumplings!”
So we had pork dumplings, and noodles, and stir-fried chicken. Everything else could wait until tomorrow.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Special thanks go to C. P. Chang, who patiently read each draft and without whose comments and encouragement this book would not have been completed.
A very big thank-you to Danielle Stockley at Ace, who helped shape the final draft and make Black Wings the best book it could be.
Much gratitude is due to Cameron Dufty, who gave me a chance in the first place.
Finally, none of this would have been possible without the persistent love and encouragement of my parents, who always believed I could do it.