That was why they’d gone to Nigel. There was a rumor that the archangels could go down to Hell under certain circumstances—no one knew exactly what those dandies had to do or how it worked. Bottom line, though, was that those four lightweights were their only hope—

As if he knew his name was being taken in vain, Colin appeared from out of nowhere, the dark-haired archangel poofing it up right in front of Adrian’s face.

“Shit!” Ad hissed while he leaped back and caught himself on a bush—which promptly broke in half under his heavy body.

He landed like a bag of sand, but didn’t stay there. Springing up, he was all about the what-the-fuck: Those boys didn’t usually show up willy-nilly on the Earth. “What are y—”

“I got him out.”

Ad blinked, the English language suddenly escaping him. Wait a minute. Did he just hear—“Jim? You’re talking about Jim?”

“Is out.”

“But Nigel said—”

“I’m not discussing that. I got the chosen one out of Devina’s lair and I left the poor sod off at your hotel—he needs care.”

Eddie came over. “You got him out? But I thought Nigel—”

“I have to go.” Colin stepped back and started to fade. “Go help him. He needs it.”

“Thank you,” Ad breathed, both relieved and sick to his stomach: the recovery from one of Devina’s seshes was a bitch. Mostly because the memories were just too damn vivid.

Colin shook his head as he disappeared, his voice all that lingered: “It just wasn’t right.”

“I’m going to the hotel,” Adrian said, unfurling himself to take to the air. “Don’t let Isaac out of your—”

Eddie grabbed his arm hard. “Let me handle Jim.”

“No.”

“You’re not up to this, Adrian.” Eddie’s grip held him to the ground, that big hand squeezing into bone and muscle. “And you know it.”

“The hell I’m not.”

Breaking free, he took three running leaps and winged up into the air, grabbing onto the night and propelling himself west. The flight back to where they were staying was bumpy and rough—but not because of the wind. It was more like Eddie probably had a point, the SOB.

When Ad got to the Comfort Inn & Suites, he wanted to just barge into their rooms through the walls, but he decided not to chance it: Given that his inner Kit Kat wrapper was loose and flapping, he landed on the lawn and stalked in through the lobby. He had a feeling he was just too scatterbrained and nauseous to successfully push himself through wood and concrete.

The problem was, he knew exactly what kind of shape Jim was going to be in.