I continued backing up, the watch clutched in my hand, until I hit something—or rather, someone. I turned and found myself staring into Grace’s cold, hard eyes. Whereas Dante had seemed to appear out of nowhere, I knew Grace actually had. I froze, and behind me, the sounds of fighting stopped. I think the guys were just as surprised as me to see her—or maybe not. Dante had all but said he’d told Grace we were here.

“Georgina,” she said. “You are such a good employee . . . and yet, you’re also a bad one.” Her voice was as flat and emotionless as ever, except unlike in the past, I had a feeling she was actually planning to kill me now.

“Why?” I asked, playing for time. “You had a good job under Jerome.”

“Under being the operative word. I wasn’t going to spend the rest of my existence as someone’s second-in-command and certainly not their co-second-in-command.”

“She has the seal,” I heard Dante say behind me.

“I know she does,” Grace replied. “You gave it to her.”

“Hey, I—”

She raised her hand, and Dante screamed. Jerking my head around, I saw him writhing in pain, like he was suspended by strings that she controlled. After enduring Nanette’s wrath, I knew how truly excruciating demonic torture was, and I couldn’t stand to see anyone else go through that. Seth looked from me to Dante, clearly unsure what to do. Fistfights might be out of his comfort zone, though they were something he could do. But this? Totally different.

“Let him go!” I said. As stupid as it was, I reached out and tried to shake her, but I would have had as much luck budging the huge glacial rock beside her.

“I should never have relied on someone who was close to—”

Her words were cut off when she suddenly went flying through the air, slamming into the rock. The impact seemed to surprise more than it hurt her, and mercifully, her torture of Dante stopped. She looked around, eyes wide and confused.

“What the—”

Roman materialized out of the air and strode toward her, fierce and frightening. Finally, I thought. Without my immortal senses, I couldn’t feel his aura or signature, but something told me he was wielding a considerable chunk of his power as he advanced. Doing so was risky. It would make his identity known to any greater immortals nearby, though with all the drama in Seattle, there probably weren’t any in the area to sense him. Cedric certainly wasn’t around.

Grace gave a sharp intake of breath. “You . . . I remember your signature.”

That was all the warning she gave before fire streaked from her hands toward Roman. He didn’t move or bat an eyelid, but the fire hit an invisible wall. It arced around him, leaving him unscathed.