I step around the ballroom floor. This must be the prettiest spot in all Purgatory. Great glass chandeliers hang from the ceiling. A line of balconies arch over the long wooden dance floor. A specially-designed stage perfectly fits the jazz band.

The floor is packed with ghouls and demons, but angels and thrax walk around too. I even spy the Oligarchy and Verus. Staring at the different faces, I smile from ear to ear. Maybe this is the angelic plan Walker was talking about. We may be nearing a new age of cooperation between angels, ghouls, thrax, quasis, and demons.

Then again, maybe not.

In one scrambling and biting mass, all the demons cluster into a corner, staring around the room with a look that says ‘yum, dinner.’ At the center of their group stands Armageddon, his long arms folded across his narrow chest. The human from today’s match flashes through my mind’s eye, and I have a mad desire to race across the room and give the King of Hell a piece of my mind. I take a deep breath and ball my hands into fists. Tonight’s probably not the night to lecture Armageddon.

The guests within twenty feet of Armageddon all whimper and sulk away. That’s his greater demon aura knocking into them, overwhelming them with terror. Combine that aura with my neon orange dress and heels, and tonight’s definitely not the night to take on the King of Hell.

I force myself to look away. My gaze finds Cissy and Zeke dancing up a storm. Cissy’s eyes glow with a bit of demon-red (which means half the room envies her and she knows it). Meanwhile, there are ruby sparkles in Zeke’s irises too (which means I cannot let him drive Cissy home, and I know it).

Considering how they’re dirty-dancing, I’m not driving Cissy home any time soon. I’m spending the next hour or so alone, but it’s worth it to see Cissy’s dream come true, such as it is. I decide to circulate through the crowd, sizing up the different faces. Which ones could tell me something about my father?

I spy an older quasi woman with oodles of silver hair and diamonds. Her long peacock tail perfectly matches her green gown. She’s eating a shrimp so slowly, I know her demon power is sloth.

Taking a deep breath, I square my shoulders. You have to start somewhere.

I step up to the stranger. “Hello, I know we don’t know each other, but I was wondering if you went to any diplomatic events, say, eighteen years ago?”

Bit by bit, the woman sets the shrimp in her mouth and starts to chew. I take that to mean ‘yes.’

“Well, I was wondering if you knew any of the diplomats from those days. The quasi guys in particular?”