It was Fang. “Merry Christmas,” I said. “That sounds odd coming from a vampire,” said Fang. “Why, because I’m a creature of the night?” “Something like that.” “I’ll remind you that Santa does his best work at night.” “Santa isn’t real.” “I thought the same about vampires,” I said. “And someone recently told me that if people believe in something hard enough and long enough, it becomes true.” Fang laughed. “Enough about Santa Claus. I’ve got news. Your watcher friend is likely a fallen angel.” “He’s no demon, Fang.” “Have you ever met a demon, Moon Dance?” “I don’t know,” I said, recalling meeting Kingsley in my hotel room when he had fully transformed into a werewolf. The thing living inside him was as close to a demon as I’ve ever met. “I just know he’s not evil.” “At least not yet.” “What, exactly, is a fallen angel?” “A spiritual being that no longer commits itself to helping others evolve. In fact, quite the opposite.”
