I sat in my living room, half-empty pizza boxes and bottles of beer everywhere. One of the Lows belched, and the sound was loud enough to nearly rattle the windows. Lux clapped his hands and squealed. The others cheered. A few patted the Low on the back, their smiles full of admiration. Two pounds of somewhat squashed salmon hadn’t gone far, and I had a dozen demons to feed, so I’d ordered delivery while sharing the fish with Gimlet, as promised. Thankfully the pizza shop also had cookies to add to our order.

“Nice one,” I congratulated the little burping guy, pulling Lux onto my lap out of range of the Xbox controllers. “And now back to the issue at hand.”

“The demon army thingie. Lots of dead angels. And the Ancient who is killing enforcers and has a faked energy signature that is similar to what Samael’s is rumored to be.” Snip beamed, proud that he’d been able to follow the conversation so far and actually retain it more than five minutes. That’s more than I could say for most of the rest of them who were already discussing a bet over who could eat all of the spices in my kitchen cabinet and not puke.

“Samael,” Lux intoned.

“Yes. Your Uncle Samael, who is probably dead and is most definitely not running around killing Grigori enforcers.” I shifted Lux on my lap and handed him my beer. The kid liked beer, and I needed him busy so I could focus.

“First thing I want to find out is about any possible plot to kill angels,” I told the Lows, raising my voice to be heard over the spice bet and Lux’s noisy slurping. “A whole lot of angels have died recently—burned, run over, exploded, cut up to bits. That sort of thing.”

Gimlet laughed. “Well, they’re not real smart about things here in the human world. I saw one stuck in an elevator a few weeks ago. Guy couldn’t figure the buttons out, and every time the door opened he waited so long to get out that it nearly closed on him. And then there was the one trying to cross the highway. It was like that Frogger game. Remember that game?”

None of the Lows remembered that game, but they all stared with admiration at Gimlet, awed by his extensive knowledge and experience in the human world. Those Lows that lived long enough had saved for centuries to afford a brief trip here to vacation. And most of them didn’t live to return to Hel.

“Then there was the angel who fell down the escalator at Macy’s.” Gimlet doubled over in laughter. “His robe got caught and he nearly strangled to death. Some of them are walking around in robes. Can you believe it? Robes. Like a damned Renaissance painting.”

I needed to regain control of the derailed conversation.

“I’m getting the details on the deaths, and there’s a good chance, as Gimlet alluded, that they’re strictly accidental. Just in case they’re not, I need to know if there are any rumors in Hel of demons killing angels. If this is the work of a demon, or a group of demons, someone’s bragging about it.”

“And collecting the bounty,” Snip piped up. “There’s a big bounty on angel wings. Not that I’m in any position to be collectin’ on that.”

I jerked my head around to stare at him in shock, nearly dumping Lux on the floor in the process. Bounty? What bounty? What the fuck was going on in Hel behind my back?

“Not going to get myself dead trying to take out an angel, you know,” Snip added. “Besides, I’m…uh, I’m kind of attached to an angel and she wouldn’t approve.”

That elicited a whole bunch of hoots and lewd gestures from the other Lows. Snip turned bright red. Lux paused drinking beer to take it all in, then with a disgusted snort turned back to his Bud Lite.

“I’m not gonna be killing angels either,” Barf added. “Rather be fucking them. Think I’ll ever fuck an angel? Any of them? One of those gate guardians, maybe? That one in Columbia is kinda hot.”

“Don’t count on it,” Snip told him, bristling at Barf’s comment. “You’d have to work pretty hard to convince one of them to fuck you, and we all know how you feel about work.”

Barf pursed his lips. “I might actually work if it meant I’d get to fuck an angel.”

“Guys!” I stuck my fingers in my mouth and whistled to gain their attention, trying once more to redirect them. “Bounty? Who is offering a bounty on angel wings? And who has been collecting on that bounty?”

There was a buzz of conversation between the Lows. The consensus was that no one knew who was offering the bounty. It seemed to be some generally known thing. Since none of the Lows was about to attempt to take on an angel, regardless of the profit, none of them had bothered to find out who was actually paying.

“Caramort, Basilisk, and Popiel claim they killed angels,” Snip said. “Course, they might be lying.”

Caramort. That was the warmonger whose household the fire demon said he was a part of. Best to start with him. I had no idea who Basilisk was, and Popiel was an Ancient. It would probably take me two weeks to get an appointment with him if I was lucky.

And the significance of that didn’t escape me. I was the Iblis. I should be able to walk up to his house, pound on the door, and get an immediate audience. One more bit of proof that I was not the right demon for this job.

“Snip, go find and meet with Caramort and Basilisk and see if they really did kill angels or not. Then track down who paid them the bounty. Set up an appointment for me to meet with Popiel as soon as possible, too. Oh, and ask Mestal to come see me.”

Mestal was my snitch. If there was something to this tale of a bounty on angel wings, he’d know. Or not. Sometimes his information wasn’t the most reliable. Sometimes it was a whole bunch of stupid stuff and he was ignoring the important things going on right under his nose.

“Yes, Mistress. Do I do that after I arrange for Doriel’s visit or before?

Crap. Snip was better than most Lows at multitasking, but I’d clearly reached the limit of his abilities. I looked around the Lows and felt my heart sink. The only one here who was close to being at Snip’s level was the one who technically wasn’t in my household. The one I really didn’t trust.

Keep your friends close and your not-sure-if-they’re-an-enemy-or-not close enough to smell the grilled salmon on his breath.

“Barf, you…” Wait a minute. “Barf, did you find Leethu? I sent you to find Leethu. Why are you back here?”

The Low cringed. “I thought she was in Texas, but it was some other demon. I’ve been looking forever, Mistress. I can’t find her. I can’t,” he whined.

Oh, for fuck’s sake. Barf was totally worthless.

“Rutter! You go find Leethu. If you can find her within the week, I’ll buy you a Vespa.” The Low had been obsessed with motorized scooters ever since he’d come from Hel, and I knew he fancied himself tooling around on a powder-blue Vespa.

The other Lows suddenly started clamoring that they all wanted Vespas as well. Barf was particularly pissed, and commented that if he’d known there was a Vespa in the offering, he would have tried harder.

I silenced them all with a wave of my hand.

“Gimlet, you meet with Caramort, Basilisk, and Popiel and find out if they really killed angels or not, then track down who paid them the bounty. Barf, you go find Mestal and tell him to come see me.”

“Do I get a Vespa?” the Low interrupted.

“No, you do not get a Vespa. You do, however, get to keep all of your limbs attached to your body. Mestal is probably at the casino. He likes to hang out there and work. Says the noise of the slot machines is soothing or something like that. Tell him I need info on these angel killings, and I need it fast. Snip, you do all the other stuff. Good? We good?”

“No, we are not good.” Gimlet glared at me. “I’m not in your household. You can’t tell me what to do.”

“Did you just fucking eat the salmon I bought?” The Low squirmed under my stare. “Did you not just eat the cookies I bought? Did you just drink the beer I bought? Have you not been sleeping in my motherfucking guest house, availing yourself of my hospitality for the last few months off and on? Time to pay the hotel bill, asshole. Do as I say, or I’ll cut that half-digested salmon out of your gut.”

“She will too,” Snip whispered to the Low. “With that sword. If you’re lucky, it will just disembowel you and not turn you into a pile of sand.”

Gimlet ignored Snip and continued to have a staring contest with me. I forced my eyes to stay open, feeling them burn and water. Just when I felt like they were about ready to fall out of my head, the Low blinked. Then he grinned.

“Yes, Mistress.”

There was a hint of mocking in his voice as he said the title. I ignored it. This fucker was the least of my problems right now.

“Good, now everyone out of here and back to the guest house.” I stood up and headed for the kitchen, Lux in my arms. I had half an hour before I need to return to Hel for my meeting with Doriel, and my kid just drank my beer. There was nothing I wanted more than to relax in front of the television with a fresh cold one and pretend that I wasn’t about to spend the evening kowtowing to some fucking Ancient.

The chatter of my Lows faded as they headed back to their guest house. I plopped Lux on the counter and turned to open the fridge.

“Want another beer?

The young angel was angling his wings to keep himself balanced on the counter as he poked a stack of dirty dishes in the sink. He held up his other hand and gave me a peace sign.

“You’re not having two beers. I’ve got to go to Hel in a few hours and I’m not leaving Nyalla with a drunken baby angel to take care of.”

He huffed, then went back to poking the dishes. I grabbed two Bud Lites and twisted the caps off. By the time I turned around, the dishes were squeaky clean, dry, and neatly stacked on the counter.

“You’re hired,” I handed him a beer and scooped him up off the counter. “Do the bathrooms and dust and I’ll let Austin come over for a playdate tomorrow.” Actually I’d already invited Harper and Austin to come over. I had something to discuss with the woman, a sort of business proposal, something I was pretty sure she’d be thrilled to take on.

“Kar-ay too,” Lux replied in between swigs of the beer.

“Not this time.” I grimaced. One rowdy Nephilim and one infant angel was more than I could handle. Add Karrae into the mix, and I’d be way over my head. The three together under one roof for a few hours? Not unless Dar sent his dwarf over with Karrae.

I plopped down on the sofa and balanced Lux on my lap as I reached for the remote. This domestic parenthood shit was a pain in the ass. How long before Lux could move out and get his own place? Demons took a few centuries before they were truly able to manage on their own, and I got the feeling it was probably longer with angels. Which meant I’d be saddled with this bullshit for hundreds of years. Suddenly I envisioned Austin, Lux, and Karrae partying it up in my house. Add in another angel that Dar and Asta were sure to create, plus one or two from Rafi and Ahia…

Maybe I’d just stay in Hel. The demon equivalent of going out for milk and never coming back.

Then I thought of Gregory and Nyalla, of all my friends here. Lux lifted the beer bottle to his mouth, took a swig, then lowered it before planting a wet, sloppy, beer-smelling kiss on my cheek.

“Ma.”

“Yeah, you’ve got the cute thing mastered.”

I wiped my cheek, adjusting Lux’s position as he shifted his form from a toddler back to a younger baby. The beer bottle slipped from his hands and hit the floor, spilling the small amount left in the bottle across my carpet.

“Uh oh.”

“You’re drunk,” I told him, scooting back against the sofa cushions and flipping through the channels. “And you can’t hold beer bottles with those fat little baby hands. Make yourself older. Like maybe eighteen with your own apartment and car.”

He cooed and cuddled up against me, those fat hands gripping the neckline of my shirt, his wings brushing against my arms. Within minutes, he was asleep, snoring his boozy breath across my neck as I watched some old gangster movie. It was like cuddling a beer-soaked puppy.

I kind of liked it.

By the time Nyalla breezed through the door, I was regretting my appointment in Hel and wondering how pissed off Doriel would be if I cancelled. Probably really pissed. And right now, I needed all the allies I could get.

I smiled at Nyalla and carefully passed the sleeping angel to her. A sappy expression came over her face and she rocked Lux, whispering adoring nonsense at him and smelling his skin.

Uh oh.

“Sam, why does Lux smell like beer?” There was a whole lot of disapproval in that hushed whisper.

I motioned to the bottle on the floor and lied. “He tried to take a sip and it fell when I took it away from him. Some must have gotten on his onesie or something, because there is no way I would ever give an infant angel alcoholic beverages. Never. Not me.”

She bought it, thankfully. Then she looked at the television.

“Sam! You can’t watch those shows with Lux. Remember the last time?”

I hadn’t thought that particular movie was all too violent, but Lux took great exception to the scene where the guy woke up to a bloody horse head in his bed. I had to buy a new television, and repair a series of holes in my drywall and ceiling. Lux spent the next three days in the stables, obsessively watching over my three horses, refusing to leave. Eventually he and Diablo had a conversation and the angel left the other two horses in my hybrid’s quite capable hands. He still went out several times a day to check on them, though.

I flicked off the television. “He’s sleeping. And this one doesn’t have decapitated animals in it, only a whole lot of shot-up humans and one that got knifed. No biggie.”

Nyalla sighed and shook her head. “Sam, he’s a baby.”

“He’s an angel baby,” I corrected.

“Still a baby. He needs love and positive experiences. He needs to see the best of human, demon, and angel behavior so that’s what he models his own behavior on. He needs experiences that help him build a solid moral foundation, not beer and violence, and porn.”

The porn had been the Lows. And there was nothing wrong with a baby watching porn, no matter what Nyalla said.

Actually, this speech of hers sounded an awful lot like Gabe. I guess it wasn’t surprising. She was clearly influencing him and his views. He was bound to be rubbing off on her—in more ways than one.

Ew.

“Okay, you’re right. I promise I’ll do better,” I lied. “There’s a gallon of milk in the fridge, because I know you like to give him warm milk for some weird-ass reason, and there’s that mashed up fruit shit in jars on the counter. I’m going to try to be back before dawn, but just in case I get delayed, Harper agreed to come over at nine with Jaq and Kelly to watch him during the Ruling Council meeting.”

Her eyes glowed. “Oh, Austin! He’ll love that.”

He would. And not only was Harper experienced at taking care of angelic offspring, but Jaq as a Nephilim was almost as good as having a dwarf in the house.

“Be careful, Sam,” Nyalla told me. Then she grabbed one of Lux’s chubby arms and waved it at me. “Bye, Mama,” she said in a high-pitched voice. “Love you, Mama. Come back soon.”

I was going to puke if she didn’t stop that. But she was doing me a huge solid watching the kid, so I held back a gag and plastered a smile on my face. “Yep. That’s nice, that love and stuff. Bye.”

Then I left. Fast. Before Nyalla could spout any more baby-talk at me.