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“I know every city well,” he replies cockily. “And about forty-five minutes, depending on how rubbery your necks are.”

“Hey, I’ve been stuck in literal Hell for four years, bucko,” I defend myself.

“Ditto,” Kevin says from behind us. I look back to see Naamah wrapped around his arm as they take in the sights. With her wings, tail, and horns hidden, and with him looking casual in ripped jeans and a T-shirt, they look like a young couple fresh off a cruise ship.

A handsome black man throws me a flirty smile as he wipes down his fish stall. The Moroccan croons something in the lilting cadence of his homeland before Aim shuts him down with a swift glare.

“Nsaha,” the spymaster growls and the man averts his eyes.

“What did he say?” I whisper to Aim, curiosity getting the better of me.

The demon harrumphs. “Hbibti, are your eyes casting a spell on me? I told him to forget about it.”

Naamah cackles. “He probably saw those grass-green eyes of yours and thought you were a goddess come to sail away with him.”

Kevin snorts at that. “Should we tell His Dukeness that the first threat to you came so early in our mission?”

I grin back at the pair. “Threat to me? That was a threat to Aim’s pretty pierced dick if he had to tell Ash I ran off with a sailor.”

“I’m always looking out for my pretty pierced dick, thank you very much,” the assassin says.

“You haven’t participated in any court orgies in decades, Aim,” Naamah says suspiciously, her eyes narrowed. “So how does our duchess know if your dick is pretty or pierced?”

Winking at her, I turn back around. “I plead the Fifth!”

“We’re in France,” she grumbles.

After an hour and a decent uphill climb, followed by Kevin grumbling about taxis, the sun is fully set, and we’ve arrived in what Aim said is Saint-Barnabé.

“Where to now?” I ask him.

He lifts both eyebrows. “You tell me. What do you sense?”

Right. I was so mesmerized by the flora and architecture that I didn’t even think to scan for Celestials.So, what do we have here?

“Three angels, two halflings, and a… demon lord? Archdemon? That’s not possible.”

Aim hisses and lets loose a juicy string of expletives. “Where are they?”

I point to the end of the street we’re on. “What’s going on?” I ask. “Who’s the archdemon I’m sensing?”

“A ghost,” he mutters before heading in the direction I indicated.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kevin asks, still out of breath from the inclines and now jogging after the demon lord.

“Who do you suspect, Aim?” Naamah asks cooly, effortlessly keeping pace in her high-heeled boots.

“The lost prodigal son,” he answers.

We’re entering someone’s yard under an archway of jasmine and honeysuckle by the time Naamah puts the pieces together. “You mean Nephithar.”

Muffled conversation can be heard through open windows, and that’s definitely Sariel’s laugh. My heart hurts at hearing it, realizing just how long it’s been since I heard a sincere one coming from his mouth.

Since everyone inside is a Celestial or their offspring (and what does that say about Mike? Did he know what he is, what I am?), our presence probably isn’t a surprise. Still, I feel a bit awkward when Aim pushes the door open without knocking and just enters.

Jessica’s voice sounds out, then Sariel’s, and then Aim speaks up: “You can’t, however, bribe me.”

Chapter 29 – Sariel