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“I live here.”
Joriel’s brows rose. “You haven’t been here in years. You’re on a job, aren’t you?”
I shrugged without answering. I didn’t give details about my work to anyone without a good reason, not even my brother.
“Let me help you.”
“No.”
“Please, Samuel.” The edge of desperation made me pause. Joriel wasn’t as cold as the rest of us, but he wasn’t the type to beg for anything.
My eyes narrowed. “Why?”
He stared down at his gloved hands. “I feel useless. Micah’s barely included me in anything since the Dantalion situation.”
“I’m sure he has his reasons.” And we both had a good idea what those reasons were. The last job Joriel had been involved in ended with him taking a trip to Hell to meet with Lucifer. Joriel had refused to talk about that trip, but he’d been different since he got back. He smiled less, and sometimes I’d catch him staring off into the distance, looking all wistful and shit.
“His reasons?” Joriel laughed bitterly. “He doesn’t trust me anymore. And he’s probably right not to.”
My brows rose. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“I made a deal with the Devil, Samuel. How is Micah supposed to believe I won’t turn on him or you?”
“What did you promise Lucifer?” I didn’t expect an answer. This was the most Joriel had said about his trip to Hell in the nine months since he’d gotten back.
“Nothing that wasn’t mine to give.”
I was tempted to push him for more, but I didn’t ask for information; I threatened and made demands. And I couldn’t do that with Joriel without Micah getting on my ass.
“So if I’m not supposed to be trusting you, why would I want your help with my next job?”
“Because I’m still secret order and one of the best fighters in the universe.”
I mulled over his words. I hadn’t intended on bringing Joriel into this, but unlike Nathaniel, he didn’t have a family to worry about, a whole separate life to live. If I needed backup that I couldn’t get from my human employees, Joriel was my best option.
“I’ll keep that in mind. Are you staying here for the night?”
Three
Piper
I camedownstairs at five a.m. to find Nacio lounging against the wall in the entryway, fiddling with his phone. “Um, hi. What’s up?”
“You still run on Saturday mornings.”
I’d started the habit in high school. Nacio used to come with me back when he still lived at the house.
“Yep.” I secured my hair into a high ponytail as I reached the bottom of the stairs.
“Do you want company?”
I eyed his gym shorts and tank top, which I should have noticed earlier, and grabbed my running shoes from one of the racks that lined the walls beside the stairs. “Sure. Is there a special occasion?”
“You’re not going to like it.”
I dropped onto the bottom step to tie my shoes. “Well, let’s hear it.”
He took a deep breath. “Boston’s Seven-Fig Newsdid a piece on the charity ball. There was a very nice bit about the foundation and the work that’s been done over the years to bring clean water to different parts of the world.”
