Azazel stood with his back to me, looking into the fireplace. So much for my sneaking away from the court unnoticed. Gabriel sat on a hassock beside me, as I expected he would be, his brows knit together in a frown. He relaxed visibly when I looked at him. “You are well?” he asked. He made no move to touch me, and I felt bereft. But I understood why he didn’t. “I know I’ve mentioned this before, but I am getting really sick of passing out. I’m starting to feel like Giles on Buffy the Vampire Slayer,” I said, and sat up. “And I’m getting a very bad suspicion about why I’m having these visions of Evangeline.” Azazel turned at that, and his eyes were unreadable. Was he relieved that I was safe and healthy? Was he plotting the next move with his very valuable pawn—me? And why hadn’t he told Lucifer about my visions of Evangeline yet? “I am glad that you are well, Daughter,” he said. The question was on my lips, so I asked him. “Why haven’t you told Lucifer of my visions of Evangeline?”
