Lucifer was obviously up to something—besides yanking my chain, that is. He had some plan that I couldn’t see yet. And while I was trying to figure out that plan, I had to make sure I didn’t take an early trip to the Door.

J.B. seemed recovered enough to head home and rest, so Gabriel and I helped him into a cab and sent him on his way. As J.B.’s cab pulled away in the light of the rising sun, I remembered that I had another pickup—an early one.

“No rest for the weary,” I said, sighing.

Gabriel glanced at me. “Or the wicked.”

“Hey, I’m supposed to be one of the good guys,” I said, a little offended.

“Try to remember that when you are about Lucifer’s business.”

I felt myself growing angry. “Do you think I chose this?”

“I know that you did not,” he said patiently. “But Lord Lucifer has a way of making choices seem . . . gray.”

I wanted to tell Gabriel that one of the reasons I was forced to do Lucifer’s business in the first place was to keep him breathing, but I didn’t. I knew enough about Gabriel to know that he wouldn’t want me to do anything for his sake. And anyway, it was my choice, even if it sometimes seemed like my options had been taken away from the moment I had discovered I was Azazel’s daughter.

“I think I can hold my own against Lucifer,” I said. “I am aware of his reputation.”

“Do not make any assumptions where Lord Lucifer is concerned,” Gabriel warned. “He has forgotten more about human nature than you will ever know.”

“That’s the second time today I’ve been told that,” I said. “Don’t you have any faith in me?”

“I have plenty of faith in you, Madeline,” Gabriel said. “I just know Lord Lucifer better than you do. He has been playing chess for centuries, and he knows how to win. And who to sacrifice.”

I felt myself grow cold. Somehow, I hadn’t considered that Lucifer might be sending me to the faerie court to get rid of me.

“I thought that I would be more valuable to him, being the last direct descendant of his union with Evangeline.”

Gabriel stared broodingly after J.B.’s taxi. “I’m not sure that family ties are that meaningful to Lord Lucifer. I am his grandson, after all, and I only barely managed to escape the knife at my birth.”

“But he was furious with me for killing Ramuell,” I said thoughtfully. “I think maybe his family is more important than you think. I don’t think he would have let the Grigori kill you no matter what. I bet he just wanted to see how things would play out, and who would speak out against his grandson. I’m sure he’s holding it against any Grigori that did so.”

“I suppose it is possible,” Gabriel said, still staring off into the middle distance somewhere.

“Hey,” I said, taking his hand. I felt the familiar hum of electricity that always sparked between us at the slightest touch. “It doesn’t matter what Lucifer wants or doesn’t want. I want you, son of Ramuell or not.”

His hand gripped mine tighter but he still did not turn his head in my direction. “Son of Ramuell is what I will always be, and that is why we cannot do this. I have told you over and over and you will not listen.”

I pressed closer to him, made him look at me. His eyes were tormented.

“And I have told you over and over,” I said, my face very close to his, “that I do not care what the rules say.”

He gave me what I wanted, pressed his mouth against mine for an instant, and then pulled away. His face was full of need and regret.

“It is madness, Madeline, and I cannot do it. I will not be responsible for your death.”

There wasn’t a lot I could say to that. I watched him walk away from me, the way he seemed to over and over.

4

MY HAND HOVERED INSIDE THE BAKERY CASE. I WAITED a second or two, trying to decide which doughnut was the right one. The two doughnuts that remained were filled with some kind of cream and both had chocolate icing on top. I grabbed the one on the right.

“That’s not the right kind,” Beezle muttered from the inside pocket of my coat. “That kind has cream inside, not custard.”

“How can you tell from there?” I hissed, putting the doughnut back.

“I can smell it,” he replied, his voice muffled by the wool.

“Well, I can’t tell the difference so you get what you get,” I said.

“Just get the other one,” he said. His short gray horns and yellow cat eyes peeked out from underneath the lapel of my black winter coat.

A harried-looking woman with two small boys in her grocery cart pushed past us to get at the baguettes.

“Look, Mommy, there’s a rat in her pocket!” one of the boys shouted, pointing at me. Several other people shopping in the section turned to look.

The mother widened her eyes at Beezle, grabbed her French bread and tossed it in the cart. She “shushed” the little boy while moving away from me as quickly as possible.

I gave the other shoppers a sickly smile. “It’s my guinea pig,” I said, moving away from the doughnut case and shoving Beezle back in my pocket with my free hand.

I’d completed my pickup and decided to hit the Jewel for a few necessities. Of course, Beezle had a different notion of necessity than I did.

“What about my doughnut?” he whined.

“You only get doughnuts if you can stay incognito,” I hissed.