My father? Before I could ask, the man clasped my hand. His grip was firm…and as hot as the blade of Trsiel’s sword. A few degrees hotter than Trsiel’s own touch. None of the angels I’d met had eyes with that familiar inner glow.

“I am Aratron,” he said. “Since Trsiel seems to have temporarily forgotten his good manners.”

I realized who I was speaking to and straightened. The demon at Glamis might have expected my respect, but this one got it. Aratron was a eudemon—a nonchaotic demon, and a high-ranking one. I dipped my head in greeting.

Aratron smiled, then looked from Trsiel to me. “Now, what is Balam’s daughter doing with an angel?”

Trsiel shrugged, hands still stuffed in his pockets. He reminded me of the Cabal kids who’d come to me for black-market spells, making their first foray into the underworld, furtive and nervous, like college kids meeting their first drug dealer.

When Aratron lifted his brows, Trsiel mumbled, “Working.”

“So you’re back in the field? Good. I don’t know why they ever took you out of it in the first place. You were one of the best—far better than most of those ascendeds.”

Trsiel lifted his gaze to search Aratron’s, looking for the insult or insinuation behind the words, but Aratron’s eyes were clear, his tone free of sarcasm.

“It’s…temporary,” Trsiel said.

Aratron looked from him to me again. “A full-blooded angel temporarily working with a supernatural ghost. That sounds an awful lot like training.” He paused, then threw back his head and laughed. “Ah, those Fates are innovative gals, aren’t they? This is one of their most original ideas yet. And deviously clever, if I might say so myself. If you want a good warrior against evil, you need one who understands what she’s chasing. You’ll make an excellent angel, Eve…though I can imagine your father won’t be quite so pleased.”

“I have something to ask of you,” Trsiel said. “You said that you owed me—”

“A favor. And I do…though, I’ll admit, it’s one marker I never expected to be called in. What’s it been now, three hundred years?”

“Er, yes, well, being out of the field, I haven’t needed—”

“You haven’t wanted to call it in. I’m a demon. A eudemon, perhaps, but still a demon, and such a contact—even professionally—is expressly forbidden.” He tilted his head, lips pursing. “Well, perhaps not expressly, but certainly implicitly. Your new partner, however, sees things differently—more pragmatically—and has persuaded you to call in this marker.”

Trsiel snuck a look at me. “Er, uh—”