“Can I come in?” Kim said. His voice sounded sultry as always.
Angela rolled onto her side, fighting off dry heaves. “Ye—yeah.”
This isn’t me. Running like that.
But it also wasn’t her to suck a lightning bolt down from the sky.
Everything was changing. Everything. She stared at the coiled radiator next to the toilet, hardly knowing what to ask first or how to ask it. She was just lucky that Kim must have sensed her distress and decided to take the initiative for a change. “Are you ever going to leave this room?” His fingers found her hair and lifted some strands, rubbing them. He sat on the toilet, bent over her, his black coat sweeping the tile. “Or should I carry you to bed like I did your friend?”
“No,” Angela said, getting to her knees and pushing onto her feet. “I can go myself.”
“When you’re ready.”
He watched her brush her teeth and lean down to drink more water from the tap, probably trying to make sure she didn’t pass out again without being there to help. Then he followed her silently out of the bathroom and up the stairs to her own apartment, standing politely outside the door until she waved him in. Angela grabbed a brush and tugged through the knots in her hair, but she didn’t feel like changing her clothes anymore. She was too tired and dazed to care, and once her hair was more civilized-looking, she collapsed onto the bed without even taking off her boots, the world still spinning.
Kim’s weight settled on the bed beside her.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, feeling stupid. Under ordinary circumstances, she would have wanted to be alone. But after seeing Troy, any company was better than none. She was just relieved it was Kim. Sophia would have been hovering all over her, worried. “I’m just—not myself right now.”
“True. You haven’t been from the start. I think it’s time to be more honest with me.”
She closed her eyes, taking in a long breath. “My dreams are gone.”
Kim gazed back at her, silent.
“Every time I fell unconscious, I dreamed about my angels. Every time. Now . . . I guess my offer was acceptable after all.” Angela rolled onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. “So—I want to understand. Both Stephanie and that blond woman with the braids—the way she threw Nina over the side of the building. Why?”
“Because that woman is a flesh-and-blood demon, and Stephanie summoned her to Earth. To Luz.” There was another pause, filled with telling silence. “Whoever you called into your friend is a threat to them. The red eyes”—his words slowed considerably—“gave that away rather quickly. Naamah wants Nina dead now, and she’ll finish the job eventually. The only question is when.”
Nina was going to live. It was probably the only good thing that had come out of her being possessed—her new spirit friend wanted her to stick around. But if the demon found her, sniffed her out—
A demon. Naamah.
Unbelievably, Stephanie was that dangerous. It was hard to digest that a human being could go so wrong, so young. Had she offered her soul in exchange for Naamah’s services? When and how could that kind of relationship even begin? It was almost beyond comprehension. But in one night, every legend or rumor about Luz had revealed itself to be horrendously true. “What about me? Now she knows that I have power of some kind, whatever it might be. Now I’m a real threat . . . a solid candidate to be the Archon. That has to piss Stephanie off.”
“And it does.” Kim rested with his hand against his chin. “From this point on, she won’t play nice, Angela. Your bolt of lightning was equivalent to a declaration of war, and Stephanie won’t let you call yourself the Archon whether or not it turns out to be the reality of things.” His expression was flat and grim. “Didn’t I say not to let her superficial act fool you? Stephanie has killed before, and she’d kill again. In ways that could turn even the hardest stomachs.”
“But I don’t get it. Why does she want to be the Archon so badly?”
“We’ve already discussed that. It all comes down to power, and perhaps bitterness. But think about what you’ve learned of the Archon, Angela. She will have a choice to make, and most believe it will be one of Ruin. Who is the Ruin? The real Ruin?”
Angela thought hard.
“The Devil?” she said, her breath almost stopping.
“Exactly. In other words, some of the demons want the Archon on the Throne of Hell. This means challenging Lucifel, the Devil herself, for the position. The risks are terrifyingly vast, but the rewards would equal them. Stephanie is a typical witch who only thinks about the latter half.”