After about forty minutes of laborious printing, I dropped the pen on my desk and pushed my chair back. I was rubbing the cramp out of my right hand when I realized someone was standing in my cubicle behind me.

I whirled around and came to my feet, ready to defend myself if necessary, my hand automatically groping for the sword that was not there. My chair rolled on its casters and crashed into my desk.

A man stood there, a rather heavy man with an amused expression on his face. He was only a little taller than me, and his stomach was round and protruded in front of him. He had hangdog jowls, very little hair and small blue eyes.

“I assure you, Agent Black, that no violence is necessary.”

I dropped my hands to my sides. “Who are you?”

“My name is Sokolov, and I am the assistant to the chairman of the board of the Agency.”

“Really? The chairman?” I said, leaning back against my desk and crossing my arms. I was surprised that one actually existed. I’d always figured he was a figment of J.B.’s imagination. I’d never seen him. “What does the chairman want with a lowly Agent?”

“You are hardly lowly, Agent Black,” Sokolov said. “The chairman has asked me to tell you that your first responsibility is to the souls of the dead, irrespective of the complications of your paternity. As such, you are hereby ordered not to engage in any pursuit of Azazel the fallen angel, particularly as it relates to the incident of today.”

“The ‘incident’? You mean the one where a bunch of your Agents were kidnapped and a whole lot of innocent folks were killed because the upper brass wants to stick their fingers in their ears and say ‘la-la-la’?” I asked.

“It is not for you to question the actions of your superiors,” Sokolov said.

“Too bad I don’t think anyone is superior to me,” I said.

“You should be careful, Agent Black. You have people that you care about, do you not? You wouldn’t want to see them hurt because of your inability to take orders,” he said silkily.

I pushed away from the desk and marched up to Sokolov, getting in his personal space. He smelled like peppermint and onions.

“Don’t you dare threaten me,” I said, my temper snapping. “You don’t know what I’m capable of.”

“On the contrary, the Agency knows precisely of what you are capable. As a further notice, you are hereby warned that any further adventures beyond the Door will result in your immediate death at the hands of the Retrievers,” he said.

I blinked. “I haven’t gone beyond the Door. No Agent can.”

“You set off the alarms at headquarters at approximately four eighteen p.m. this afternoon. Your excursion was of ten minutes in length,” Sokolov recited.

“Four eighteen p.m.? But I was asleep…” I started to say; then my voice faded. That was when I’d dreamed of Gabriel, and Puck had appeared. I thought it had just been a fantasy implanted in my head by Puck. Had I really gone beyond the Door?

Sokolov nodded, as if he’d confirmed some suspicion. “Despite the fact that you were unconscious of your actions, you are not permitted to go seeking the soul of your loved one in the land of the dead. Should this occur again, you will be punished accordingly.”

“Going to send your bogeymen after me?” I asked.

“I would not sneer so if I were you, Agent Black,” Sokolov said. “The Retrievers would not be kind to you.”

“You’ve delivered your message. Now move along,” I said.

Sokolov’s face hardened. “You should take the Agency more seriously, Agent Black. We have the power to destroy you utterly.”

The Agency’s messenger boy turned on his heel and retreated from my cubicle. I pulled on my coat like I didn’t have a care in the world. I was sure they were watching me on the security cameras, and I didn’t want anyone to think I’d been even remotely affected by Sokolov. I picked up the sheaf of papers I’d filled out and walked toward the drop box where all the soul forms were collected. I pushed the forms through the slot and continued on to J.B.’s office.

His secretary was missing from the outer office, gone home for the day like a normal person who had a life. I knocked on the closed door and opened it before he could respond.

J.B. looked up, his brow furrowed. “I thought I said an hour.”

“I’m hungry now,” I said, trying to send him a meaningful glance. “Where’s that dinner you promised me?”

He buried his head in paperwork again. “I still have some stuff to do here.”

“Are you really going to let me get home by myself?” I asked.

“You fly by yourself all the time,” he mumbled.

Gods above and below, he could be so dense sometimes. Especially if he was focused on paperwork. It was like it had some kind of magical sway over him.

“J.B.,” I said loudly, hoping my tone would cut through the fog caused by the delight of completing forms in triplicate.

He looked up again, and this time it seemed like his eyes finally focused on me. He seemed to realize I wanted him for something.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” he said, putting down his pen and grabbing his coat. “I lost track of time.”

“I’m used to it,” I said.

“So where do you want to eat? You want a pizza?” J.B. said, playing along as we walked past the cubicle maze on the way to the elevators.

“We eat enough pizza at my house. Beezle thinks takeout is one of the four food groups,” I said as the elevator doors opened and we stepped in.

“The four food groups are over,” J.B. said. “Now there’s a plate or something.”

“I thought it was a pyramid?”

“Nope, that’s come and gone already.”

We continued talking about nothing in particular until we were outside the Agency and a block away.

“Let’s fly,” I said, and we both pushed our wings out.

We disappeared from the sight of ordinary people, but any Agent would still be able to see us. I glanced behind to see if anyone was following us. There was nobody I could see, but the back of my neck tingled. Maybe it was just the lingering effects of Sokolov’s visit.

“What’s up?” J.B. asked after a few minutes.

“Wait until we get home,” I said, and he didn’t press me.

We landed on the lawn. Everything looked normal. There were no monsters waiting to attack, no effigies burning on the front walk. The lights were on in Samiel’s apartment. I could see the flickering blue light of the television set through the front picture window of the upper floor. It looked like every lamp had been turned on as well.

“Beezle should know better,” I said. “He’s going to kill my electricity bill.”

Curiously, I could also see lights on in the basement, and the shadow of someone moving around behind the curtain.

I pushed open the foyer door and unlocked the door to my apartment. J.B. followed me upstairs.

“Hello?” I called as I entered, expecting a chorus of greetings in reply. But no one answered.

“Hello?” I repeated, dropping my coat on the table as I went toward the back of the house.

No one was in the kitchen, and the back door was open. I went to the top of the stairs and heard Nathaniel’s, Jude’s and Beezle’s voices.

“Where did it go?” Nathaniel shouted.

“That way, that way, you idiot!” Jude roared.

“What’s going on?” J.B. asked, standing behind me.

“Search me,” I said, starting down the steps.

“Watch out!” Beezle said. “It almost got into the pipes again.”

“Why don’t you help instead of telling us things we already know?” Jude said.

“I am helping. I’m watching—there it goes! Toward the washing machine!” Beezle said.

“Sounds like there’s a mouse in the house,” J.B. said.

“Yeah, but why would they be freaking out over a mouse?” I said as we entered the basement.

My basement is not the cleanest part of my house. It’s just one big room, and I’ve got a lot of junk stacked in boxes all over the place. There was an old pullout sofa at the far end. An ancient washer and dryer stood a few feet from the bottom steps.

Nathaniel had pushed the washer away from the wall and was on his hands and knees, reaching with a tennis racket. Jude crouched on the other side of the washing machine, his hands cupped and close to the ground. They both looked sweaty and harassed. Beezle fluttered over to J.B. and me.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Trying to catch the rat-demon that got in the house,” Beezle said.

“Gah,” I said with a shudder. I’d seen the internal organs of many a monster without blinking, but the thought of rats in the house gave me the heebie-jeebies. “Where’s Samiel?”

“Waiting upstairs at an entry point in case the thing escapes through the wall,” Beezle said. “There’s a big hole in his apartment near the heater.”

“Yeah, I keep meaning to fix that,” I said. “Why don’t you just blast the thing and be done with it?”

“Because,” Nathaniel said, as he swatted at the squeaking thing with the tennis racket. “It is immune to magic. That is how it managed to get in the house in the first place. It found an opening in the outside wall and was able to construe that as an invitation.”

“What are you going to do with it once you catch it?” I asked.

“Question it,” Jude said grimly. “It’s a spy.”

“I didn’t know either of you spoke rat,” I said, and Jude spared me a dirty look.

There was an increase in the pitch and frequency of the demon’s squeaks. I shuddered again. There’s just something about rats that makes even the most easygoing person cringe.

“Ha!” Nathaniel said as he swung the racket one last time. Jude gave a satisfied grunt and stood up. The creature squealed, and Nathaniel pulled the handle of the racket along the floor as the little demon made horrible noises.