“I knew it. Who are you?”
“That’s none of your concern.”
“Are you working for the Black Prince?”
Nina’s smile faded. “I’m not working for anyone.”
“You were the one who told the demons that the Archon could be found in this human city, am I right? You told them that Her time was arriving.” His tone sounded cooler than even he meant it to be. “That’s why they want you out of the picture. You’ll complicate their agenda.”
“You have no proof.”
“Your eyes are proof enough. What do you want? You could have left by now and gone back to the Netherworld.”
“I was never in the Netherworld to begin with.”
“You’re saying you’ve always been a spirit?”
“Yes.”
“Impossible.” He leaned in even nearer, but she didn’t back away, her face strangely alien and disquieting, as if she didn’t quite know how to use it. “Every angel, demon, and human is made of both body and soul. You’re no different—unless you’re dead, and just a soul.”
“I never had a body until recently. And I left it when I found my opportunity.” She and Sophia measured each other, and a brightness lit Nina’s eyes, as if they’d come to some silent agreement. She then turned back to Kim, oddly dignified. “It is the end, priest. The dead are yearning for release, and only She can give it to them. As a spirit, I’ve wandered all the dimensions and seen the horror that can be ended by Her coming. If I help Her, She will free them, and they will serve Her like no other master. She will take the place of the Supernals and lead like they were never able to.”
Angela seemed to step in out of nowhere, her presence breaking the small hold Kim had on the situation. “The Supernals. They are—”
“Israfel, Raziel, and Lucifel. The Angelic Trinity. The pegs on which the universe rests.”
“And”—Angela’s entire self seemed to be yearning, and her voice shook—“what do you know about them?”
“That one is alive, the other dead, and the last—caged.”
Kim had been slowly pulling out the prayer ward in his pocket. Now he unveiled it, waving the paper in front of Nina’s possessor. Nina narrowed her red eyes, stung to the core, reading the Latin scribbled on the ward like it was visual poison. Kim brought it closer, forcing her to squirm in the sheets. “Why not just say that you’re Lucifel’s chick? That the Demon herself is your mother, and that you’re rather upset she abandoned you? But it’s not very nice to use other people just to slap Mama’s hands—”
The angel inside of Nina hissed at him, her frustration eerily similar to Troy’s hunger tantrums. “I am no demon,” she said, her words childishly spiteful.
“I never said that. But I did say that Lucifel is your mother.”
Nina turned away, breathing hard.
“Isn’t she?” Kim moved the paper closer. “Those red eyes. You can’t hide what you are, dear. And here everyone thought you were executed, aborted. I wonder how long you’ve been floating around, possessing creature after creature, all so that you can see and hear and speak like us? Pathetic—”
“Kim,” Angela said, grabbing for his prayer ward. She actually sounded upset, afraid of what his interrogation might do to Nina, to them.
He spread an arm, blocking her from coming any closer. Nina’s chest rose and fell, her voice clipped by desperation. This was the dangerous part. “Stop it,” she whispered. “You don’t know what you’re doing . . .”
“What’s your name?”
“Never . . .”
He put the prayer ward on her head, eliciting a shriek. Her red eyes flashed, pained. “What is your name?”
“No,” she shouted as she twisted, sliding closer to the headboard, “I won’t. I won’t let you—”
“Now.”
The walls shook, vibrating. Crystal vases slid from their shelves and clattered to the floor, some breaking. The candle sputtered, threatening to snuff out. Angela barely flinched, completely absorbed by the spectacle of Nina, her eyes red as a rabbit’s, her face still hers and yet not her own, twisting her mouth open and spitting out the name that would free her from Kim’s power. “Mikel. My name is Mikel.”
He ripped the prayer ward away.
It spun from him, disintegrating into hundreds of tiny pieces. Paper flakes drifted to the floor like snow, snagged in Sophia’s hair, and dusted the laces of Angela’s boots. Slowly, reluctant to take her eyes off Nina, Angela stooped and began to pick up the broken glass, piece by piece. Her expression was utterly flabbergasted and unsettlingly resigned. Almost against her will, she was becoming used to this.