Nathaniel held out his hand for me to take. I stared at him until his hand dropped to his side. Two bright spots of color appeared on Nathaniel’s cheekbones and I heard Gabriel sigh softly next to me.
I didn’t care if I offended Nathaniel. Something about him struck me as shifty. And I didn’t like the way he talked to Gabriel at all. I didn’t want that creep touching me. What I did want was to take Gabriel’s hand and hold on tight, because at that moment I was terrified and unsure. What was happening to Ms. Greenwitch? What would my father think of me?
“If you will follow me,” Nathaniel said abruptly and turned on his heel. I noted his pricey black leather boots as they rang out on the marble floor.
We crossed into the room, which seemed to be a kind of parlor. I didn’t think much of the decorations, which leaned toward the Baroque. Gold leaf and heavy velvets everywhere, dark carved woods, silk wallpaper. There was a doorway at the far end of the room that led to a hallway, and at the end of the hallway was a wide marble staircase that swept upward in a long curl, so that the top of the stairs faced the direction opposite the bottom step.
Nathaniel said nothing further. He led us past several more carved doors in the hallway, all closed, and I wondered what was behind them. Kitchen, dining room, guest room? Torture chambers? My father’s harem? Armies of the undead?
We followed Nathaniel up the stairs in silence, my trepidation growing with every moment. The stairs opened to an enormous room flanked by white columns. The ceiling was at least thirty feet high and the room was about a hundred yards long. It was like entering a cathedral.
Jewel-toned rugs were scattered all over the floor, and there were more pieces of uncomfortable-looking Baroque furniture artfully arranged throughout the room. Several dozen more of the fallen were here, and I got the impression that they had artfully arranged themselves as well. Whether this show was for my viewing pleasure or Azazel’s, I didn’t know.
At the far end of the room a small crowd was gathered, blocking my view. Nathaniel walked forward, and as he walked every person in the room turned to look at us, and there were whispers as we passed.
“That’s her.”
“Who?”
“Lord Azazel’s daughter.”
“That’s Madeline?”
“Awfully small, isn’t she?”
“Where are her wings?”
“That can’t be her. She’s too puny.”
“She’s supposed to be half human.”
I ignored the whispers, which were surely meant to reach my ears. So what if this bunch of beautiful poseurs didn’t think I looked like much? I knew the content of my own character, and I didn’t need their approval.
But they, I thought with sudden amusement, probably need mine. After all, Gabriel said I was something like a princess here.
The thought brought a mischievous smile. Gabriel, ever attuned to my changes of mood, looked at me with a question in his eyes.
Later, I mouthed.
The crowd around us parted as quietly as water, and the tableau before me wiped the smile from my face.
Ms. Greenwitch knelt on the floor, her back to me, her hands clasped in front of her. A guard stood beside her, also turned away from me. Facing Ms. Greenwitch was the man who could only be my father. I had a little start when I realized he didn’t look that much older than I did. I supposed I had forgotten he was an angel and, though he’d lived thousands of millennia, would not have aged. I guess I had always kept a vision of him as looking, well, fatherly.
Instead, he looked like a well-heeled businessman in his thirties, but I could see muscles bulging beneath his tailored blue shirt. He was the first person at the court that I had seen with dark hair besides Gabriel and myself. It was jet-black and cut short on the sides, longer on the top. I saw with a jolt of recognition that his nose was the same as mine, straight and defined, and his ears were also the same shape as my own. He did not have the same sunshiny aura as the rest of the angels, but there was a sense of controlled power around him that the others did not have. He frowned thunderously down at Ms. Greenwitch, and his anger was so palpable that I shuddered.
Then my father looked up, and I had another shock when I saw my eyes, my own dark eyes, burning with the fury of the stars.
I might have run to him, embraced him. I might have had a moment of embarrassed tears, overwhelmed by my feelings for this man who had fathered me, this man whom I had never seen before this moment. But none of those things happened.
Lord Azazel looked at me, and he said, “Daughter, is it true that this woman harmed you?”
Every eye was on me with laser intensity, including Ms. Greenwitch’s. There was blood on her mouth and a scrape across her cheek. Her strange gray eyes overflowed with tears.
I realized that her well-being depended on my answer. She had already admitted to harming me in front of witnesses, but perhaps I could downplay what had happened.
“It was a misunderstanding,” I said firmly. “No harm done.”
“Did she physically harm you? Did she draw your blood?” Azazel demanded.
I thought about smashing against her living room wall, being shocked by bolts of power. “It was really nothing.”
I felt stupid, pinned by the intensity of his eyes and the lash of power in his voice. I should be doing more to help her.
“But you were harmed at her hand?” Azazel pressed.
“Um ...”
“Yes or no?” he said, and the command in his voice put my back up.
“No harm done,” I said again, meeting his eyes boldly.