We turned to the right at a T-junction and saw the bloody remains scattered all over the alley, just like the last time.

I heard bone crunch underneath my boot and looked down to see the shredded remains of a furred paw.

“Another wolf,” I said, breathing shallowly. “Why is Samiel killing wolves?”

“How do we know it’s Samiel?” Beezle said, sticking his head out of my pocket.

“Are you trying to say that Ramuell might have another unknown child running around somewhere?” I said, as I picked my way carefully among the remains. Gabriel moved silently through the alley, checking as I did for a clue, something that would tell me why these wolves were being targeted.

“It might have nothing to do with Ramuell at all,” Beezle said insistently. “Someone could just be trying to point you in that direction.”

“But why?” I said. “How could anyone know that I would just happen to be nearby two murder sites? Don’t you think it’s a little presumptuous to assume this is all for my benefit? And besides, if this death was planned, a part of the natural order, where is the Agent? Where is the soul?”

“Could have come and gone already,” Beezle said stubbornly.

“Well, it’s easily checked,” I said, thinking I would do just that the next time I was in the office. I crouched down by what appeared to be a pair of jeans covered in blood. There were some pieces of broken plastic embedded in the cloth that might have been bits of a credit card or ID. “But the wolf murders still don’t make sense. I thought the werewolf packs in this area mostly stayed out of the city.”

“And so we do, unless business requires us to be here,” growled a voice from nearby. “Whoever has done this will pay, Agent.”

I looked up to the T-junction and came to my feet. Gabriel was at my side in an instant, his hand on my shoulder.

Two of the biggest men I had ever seen stood just past the T-junction. They both easily cleared six feet, and the one on the right wore only a plain white T-shirt and denim vest over jeans, despite the chill. Everywhere I looked muscles bulged through the cloth. His pale face was covered in a red beard liberally streaked with white, and eerie blue gray eyes watched me with suspicion. I could see the faint traces of long scars that puckered the skin underneath his beard.

The man next to him was African American, just as tall and strong looking, but with a slight paunch and a much friendlier look. He looked like the sort whose natural expression was a smile, despite the obvious grief in his eyes as he surveyed the remains in the alley. He wore square-framed metal glasses and also had a heavy salt-and-pepper beard above a blue StarCraft T-shirt and jeans.

There was a third man with them, hovering a step behind, not quite as muscular or burly as the other two. He was built more along the lines of a long-distance runner. He also seemed younger. He didn’t wear a beard like the other wolves and his dark hair was free of gray. But it was his eyes that attracted my attention. They were silvery blue and burning with anger when he looked at me. I wondered what I’d done to this man to make him hate me so, for it was obvious that he did.

The one on the right spoke, and it was his voice that I had heard before.

“What business have you here, Agent? I see no soul to collect.”

The other wolves approached us he spoke. I could see them sniffing the air, their nostrils flaring.

“You smell like Lucifer,” said the wolf in the StarCraft shirt. He had a deep, booming bass voice. The third wolf still hadn’t said anything.

I raised my eyebrow at him. “That doesn’t sound like a compliment.”

“It’s not,” he said, frowning. “And you were at the other place, where Dagan died.”

The redhead narrowed his eyes at me. “What were you doing there, Agent? If I discover that you had some hand in Dagan’s death . . .”

He stepped forward, and before Gabriel could do anything I conjured up a ball of nightfire. I gave the wolf a steely-eyed look.

“Don’t make dangerous assumptions, wolf.”

He eyed the ball of nightfire with a sneer.

“Don’t presume that a werewolf can be intimidated by an Agent’s power.”

I felt my magic rise to the surface, and I knew that my eyes had changed, become a field of stars on a canvas of black.

“What makes you think I am nothing but an Agent?” I replied.

The other wolves growled, and the air crackled with energy. I could see bones shifting beneath his skin, and for a moment I looked into a snarling canid face, and then he was a man again.

“Madeline,” Gabriel said, and there was a warning in his voice.

“Let me handle this,” I said quietly. I knew a little bit about wolves, having encountered them a time or two as an Agent. They respected strength, and they wouldn’t respect me or allow me to help them if I cowered behind Gabriel.

“You don’t want to make an enemy of me, Agent,” the redheaded wolf said.

“And I don’t want to be your enemy,” I said steadily, still balancing the ball of nightfire on my hand.

The smaller wolf that stood just behind the other two looked like he might be calculating how best to leap over his compatriots and rip my throat out. I hoped that Gabriel would jump right into the fray if that happened, because the big guy seemed like he was working up a good head of steam.

I prayed that no one was looking out their back windows into the alley, because if they were, they were going to get a show. The last thing I wanted was a video of me throwing nightfire at a couple of werewolves to end up on YouTube.

The second werewolf cocked his head at me, doglike and curious. “What is it that you want, then?”

“To find out why these wolves are being killed,” I said.

He gave me an appraising look. Then he laid a restraining hand on the first. “Jude, enough.”

I realized that I’d gotten their relationship wrong. The redhead was beneath the second wolf in the social order. I’d assumed that since he had taken the lead and acted aggressively that Jude was more alpha than the other. Those kinds of prejudices could get me killed. The alpha was always the most dangerous wolf in the pack.

He studied me, sniffing the air as he did so. “You’re telling the truth.”

“Of course I am,” I said, a little miffed.

“But the truth can hide evil intentions,” the third wolf said, and I hadn’t been wrong about the venom in his eyes. It was in his voice, too. “And you do smell like Lucifer.”

“I’m his great-granddaughter,” I said. This wasn’t information that I usually liked to share with strangers, but they would continue to be suspicious of me without it.

The alpha raised an eyebrow at me. “Then you can only be Madeline Black, daughter of Azazel.”

I mirrored his expression. “You seem to have the better of me.”

He narrowed his eyes for a moment, then seemed to come to some decision. “I am Tyrone Jackson Wade, alpha of the Red Pack of Wisconsin. You may call me Wade. En Taro Adun!”

I was a little disconcerted by his odd greeting, but before I had a chance to ask him about it, he stuck a huge hand out for me to shake. I realized I was still holding the ball of nightfire. I quickly doused the fire and put my small hand in his.

Wade gripped it, and pulled me closer, his eyes searching. “Are you a true friend of the wolves?”

Something about the way he asked it made me think that this wasn’t a casual question, and I’d been around the magical block enough to know that some words were binding. I saw Gabriel shake his head, ever so slightly, out of the corner of my eye.

I took a deep breath. I had no quarrel with the wolves. Lord knew that Lucifer and Azazel probably had some master plan involving werewolves as they seemed to have for every race, but I wasn’t privy to all of their machinations. And I wasn’t about to let Gabriel dictate whom I could and could not befriend.

“I am,” I said, and then I shivered a little as magic shimmered in the air.

Wade grinned, showing a row of white, white teeth. “Then the wolves are also friends to you, Madeline Black. Tell me, what interest have you in finding the wolf-killer?”

I hesitated. Wade seemed to know a lot about fallen angels, but I was certain that Samiel’s existence was a closely kept secret. And as Beezle had pointed out, there was no way to be sure that Samiel was killing them. Even if I was a true friend of the wolves, there was no need to make them privy to every shadow in Lucifer’s kingdom.

“I came upon the first murder site by accident after feeling a magical pulse in the area,” I said. I felt it was important to tell the truth as much as possible, since Wade seemed to be able to tell when a person lied. “We followed the trail of magic to the body. I was . . . horrified by the murder, and wanted to find out who killed the wolf, but we were unable to discover anything concrete.”

“And today?”

“I was grocery shopping at Jewel when the same thing happened.”

Wade sniffed the air. I felt tense. I needed the wolf to believe me. I already had enough magical conflicts in my life without arousing the ire of a pack of werewolves.

“Very well,” he said, and some of the tension drained out of me. “We would appreciate the assistance of Lucifer’s granddaughter in this matter.”

“How is it that you know Lucifer?” I said curiously.

“I have met with him before, as a representative of my people in negotiations with the fallen,” he said, and grinned. “The werewolves of Wisconsin are sworn enemies of Lucifer. I am sure your great-grandfather will be happy to hear that you have reestablished good relations.”

I felt the blood drain from my face. I’d just stepped in it, again.

“Never, ever play chess with a master, Maddy,” Beezle mumbled from inside his coat.

Forget chess. I was still playing Candy Land.

A little while later we parted ways from my new pals, having discovered nothing especially helpful. Wade, Jude and the third wolf, whose name was James, had sniffed around the site and said that angels had been present, but also something that they could not identify. I’d carefully avoided Gabriel’s glance when the men said that. There was no need to share any information about Ramuell or Samiel with the pack.