The girl turned and smiled. “Which one is my room?”

Mary laughed and got out. “Rhage, I’ll get the suitcases.”

“The hell you will.” His blind eyes rolled around. “Where are they?”

“Fine, let me just get them and bring them over. And tuck that blanket in again, will you? I don’t want you flashing everyone as we make our grand entrance.”

Bitty stepped up next to Rhage and held the urn close. “Wow. It’s even bigger than it looks.”

“Wait’ll you get inside.”

Popping the trunk, Mary got out Annalye’s suitcase first, and she couldn’t help herself: She looked at the sky, trying to picture the female staring down from above, watching over all this and hopefully approving.

I’ll take good care of her, Mary vowed. I promise.

“Let’s go,” she said as Rhage shut the car door next to him.

“Suitcases?”

“Right here, big boy.” As she turned them over to his very capable hands, they kissed. “How ’bout I take your arm to help you navigate?”

“I can help, too,” Bitty said, grabbing onto Rhage’s other elbow.

Mary had to blink back tears as Rhage’s bare chest expanded to five times its natural size. His pride at having his two females with him as he walked up to the King’s residence was the stuff of legend: Even blind and no doubt a little sore, it was plain to see that he was in heaven.

And then they were in the vestibule and Mary was putting her face in the security camera.

“Get ready,” Mary murmured to Bitty. “It’s a big space—”

The door opened wide and the butler started to smile, only to freeze when he saw Bitty.

“It’s Fritz!” the girl exclaimed. “It’s Fritz! Hi! I’m Bitty!”

Okay, cue the melting. If that old butler had been any more entranced with the girl, his entire face would have dripped off his skull and landed on the marble floor.

Raiders of the Lost Ark, indeed.

The doggen bowed low. “Mistress. And sire. And . . . mistress.”

Bitty looked around Rhage’s heft. “Am I a mistress?”

Mary nodded and whispered, “You’ll get used to it. I did.”

The three of them walked into the grand foyer, and the first thing they saw was Lassiter on the couch in the billiards room. He was clicking the remote at the T.V. and swearing.

“I don’t care about football! ESPN my ass! Whatever—where the hell’s Who’s the Boss?”

“Lassiter!”

At the sound of his name, the angel looked out over the pool tables to where they all stood. And oh, how he smiled, that gentle, kind expression more associated with angels than the stuff he usually put out to the world. Rising to his feet, he came over, and, yes, Mary was really glad he was dressed in something normal, just jeans and a black Hanes T-shirt, his blond-and-black hair all over his shoulders.

With him, you never knew.

Getting down on his haunches, he extended his hand. “How did you know who I am, Bitty?”

The girl shook what was offered to her and pointed up at Rhage. “He told me all about you. All about everyone—wait, how did you know my name? Did he tell you about me?”

Lassiter looked up at the three of them and brushed the little girl’s cheek. “My little one, I have seen this moment since I first met your new mahmen and father—”

“No,” Mary cut in. “Don’t call me mahmen. That’s Annalye’s title. I’m not mahmen, just Mary. I’m not looking to take anyone’s place.”

“You have the strangest eyes,” Bitty whispered. “They’re beautiful.”

“Thank you.” The angel inclined his head. “I’m always here, Bitty. You need something, you come find me, and it’s yours. I think you’ll find that true about a lot of the folks here.”

The girl nodded as Lassiter rose up. And then Rhage put down one of the suitcases and the males clapped each other’s shoulders, Lassiter with better coordination because he could see.

“Listen, Bitty,” Mary said as the angel went back to the remote, “I have an idea for rooms for all of us, but we didn’t know you were coming tonight. So if it’s okay, you’ll stay in the guest suite right next to ours? If you need us, we’ll be—”

Cue the water fight.

Up on the second-floor balcony, behind the gold-leaf balustrade, John Matthew and Qhuinn came racing out of the hall of statues, Qhuinn in the lead, John Matthew pumping off rounds of Poland Spring. Without warning, Qhuinn hopped over the balcony into a free fall of twenty or thirty feet, dematerializing at just the right moment before he went fried-egg all over the mosaic floor.

John was right behind him, sliding down the balustrade on one butt cheek, laughing mutely.

The two stopped as soon as they saw Bitty.

“Qhuinn!” she exclaimed. “With the blue and the green eyes!”

The Brother looked gob-smacked at the little girl, even as he came over and towered above her. “Yeah, that’s my name, who—oh, my God! Rhage and Mary! Your little girl! It worked out!”

Mary got a bear hug. A huge bear hug. A gigantic, bone-crushing bear hug from the new father. And then John Matthew was signing.

“You’re John Matthew!” Bitty stared at his fingers. “What is he saying—wait, what?” Then she looked up at the humongous fighter and said, “You need to teach me that. If I’m going to live here, you need to teach me that.”