“I’m not stupid, even though you and everyone else insist on acting like I am. I said I’d sooner call Lucifer than Azazel, not that I would.”

“Then what will you do?” Gabriel asked.

I shrugged. “I’m going to Azazel’s court tomorrow. I’ll bring Metatrion’s body with me then.”

“I am not certain that would be a wise decision, particularly when you will be arguing for Samiel’s life. It might be…inflammatory.”

“Maybe,” I said, thinking of something Lucifer had said the day before. “Or maybe it demonstrates strength. The Grigori respect power.”

“As long as it does not conflict with theirs,” Gabriel said.

“Look, let’s just put Metatrion in the basement for now, okay? We need to get these windows covered before we die of hypothermia.”

“I just hope the neighbors don’t see us putting a body in the basement,” Beezle muttered.

I snorted. “Are you kidding? They haven’t noticed demons on the front lawn, decaying dragons in the backyard, crazy shapeshifters committing murder in the alley or any of the other insanity that goes on around here. If I didn’t know better, I’d think the house existed in a pocket dimension.”

“There’s a first time for everything. Demons can be explained away as a hallucination, but no one can ignore a dead body.”

“Can we just get through this without hearing one of your premonitions of doom?” I said, walking back to the hallway to Metatrion’s prone form.

I picked up the feet of the dead Hound, and Gabriel took the shoulders.

“Fine. Don’t listen to me. You’d just better hope that he doesn’t start to smell.”

Gabriel and I wrestled Metatrion into the basement and covered him with a tarp. It looked totally conspicuous, exactly as if we’d covered a body with a piece of plastic.

“I’m taking a shower,” I said.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Beezle said as he followed me up the stairs.

“I haven’t forgotten your reward,” I said, wondering just when I was going to get to Ann Sather for cinnamon rolls with everything else I had to do that day. “I’m not going anywhere until I’m clean.”

Gabriel walked silently behind. I wondered what he was thinking. Was he thinking of his half brother being taken before the Grigori? Was he thinking that I’d made yet another gigantic faux pas by killing the Hound of the Hunt? Or was he thinking of what had happened before Lucifer had shown up the night before, and what might have happened if the Morningstar hadn’t interfered?

I knew we needed to talk about it—again—but I had too many other things on my plate at the moment. I wondered how Jude and the pack were managing the cubs. I needed to get those camera things to J.B. They were definitely related to the ghosts that had been appearing all over Chicago. And that reminded me.

“Beezle, do you know where Samiel put those machines that we got from the cave?”

Beezle looked offended. “Of course not. You told Samiel to hide them.”

“Please. You are so freaking nosy there’s no way you could help yourself from following him.”

“He put them in the clothes dryer in the basement,” Beezle said without a trace of shame. “I suggested the refrigerator, since we never have any food in it…”

“Because someone who shall remain nameless eats everything as soon as I come home from the grocery store…”

“But he seemed to think they would be less obvious in the dryer.” Beezle sighed, and I knew that he was worried about Samiel. Ever since Samiel had arrived Beezle had treated Samiel like the brother he’d never had.

“I’ll get him back from the Grigori,” I said.

Beezle nodded and flew to the front room to sit on the mantel over the fire, his favorite brooding spot. Gabriel followed with a broom to sweep up the broken glass. I went to get dressed, and to cry in the shower where neither of them could hear me.

I had just finished braiding my hair into a long plait down my back when the front doorbell rang. Beezle flew into the bedroom a few seconds later.

“It’s J.B.,” he announced.

“Tell Gabriel to let him in,” I said, pulling my dusty black combat boots on and lacing them up over the ankles of my jeans.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea. They have a tendency to act stupid where you’re concerned. And J.B. won’t like the implications of Gabriel answering the door.”

“I really don’t care what J.B. likes and doesn’t like,” I said. “Just tell Gabriel.”

“Oookay. Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Beezle said.

I was sure that J.B. was there to bring bad news in any case, since it just seemed like it was going to be that sort of week.

I finished dressing and walked down the hall to the dining room. J.B. stood in the open front door glaring at Gabriel. Gabriel had his arms crossed and was leaning nonchalantly on the table while giving J.B. death-ray eyes. Beezle sat on the side table, and he turned to raise his eyebrows in an I-told-you-so way as I entered.

Gabriel had covered the windows with plastic so that we weren’t getting blasted by cold air, but the room was still freezing. I wore a long-sleeved shirt under a gray wool cabled turtleneck sweater—I am branching out from my usual uniform of black—and I was still chilly. I tucked my hands inside my sleeves.

J.B. broke his staring contest with Gabriel to scowl at me when I entered.