As I leapfrogged back onto the coffee table, I recited the incantation to take me home. It didn’t work. Tried another one. Didn’t work, either. Whatever mojo the Fates had going in this angel’s cell, it was obviously designed to keep her in. All things considered, that didn’t seem like such a bad idea. If only I weren’t in here with her.

“Yâflan dâdvari!” she spat at me.

“Yeah? Right back at you, you crazy bitch.”

She stopped and went completely still. Then she stepped back, lifted her arms and face to the ceiling in supplication, and began an incantation.

“Hey, I didn’t mean it,” I said, stepping to the edge of the table. “If you’re calling the Fates, that’s fine. They sent me.”

Something shimmered in Janah’s raised hands, slowly materializing from the ether. It looked like a piece of metal at least four feet long and so shiny it seemed to glow. Etched along the side were inscriptions in an alphabet that looked vaguely familiar.

As the object solidified, a burnished handle appeared on one end. Janah gripped it, fingers closing around the handle, eyes shutting, lips parting, as if sliding into a glove of the softest leather. She raised the object over her head—the pointed shaft of the biggest goddamned sword I’d ever seen.

“Holy shit!”

The words were still whooshing from my lips as that sword cleaved through the table legs like they were sticks of warm butter. As my perch crumbled, I managed to scamper onto a chair. When I dove over the back of it, the sword sheered toward my knees. I hit the floor. The tip of the blade jabbed through the upholstery, within an inch of my shoulder.

Janah leapt onto the chair and plunged the sword down at me. Ghost or no ghost, I got the hell out of the way. Doesn’t matter how invulnerable you think you are, facing off against a psychotic angel with a four-foot samurai sword is not the time to test that theory.

I scampered across the room, casting spells as I ran. None of them worked.

“Demon-spawn!” Janah shouted.

Couldn’t argue with that.

“Infidel!”

Debatable, but sure, I’ll give you that one, too.

“Satan’s whore!”

Okay, now that was uncalled for. I spun and kicked. This time, my conscience stood down and let my foot fly. I caught Janah in the wrist. She gasped. The sword flew from her hand and clattered to the floor. We both dove after it. As Janah’s fingers touched the handle, I smacked it out of her reach, then twisted and grabbed the blade.