“I’m not blushing!” She snatched her coffee, narrowly missing scalding herself. “I like Grey, of course, as I do all of Storm Moon’s staff. It’s a fun place to hang out.”
“Has he asked you out yet?”
“No! He doesn’t need to.”
“You’re a modern woman, why wait? Ask him yourself.”
“Harlan! Pack it in!”
“But I’m enjoying myself.”
“Fuck off!”
He roared with laughter, and then reached into the fridge to get more eggs. “I knew it!”
“We are changing the subject.” Her sunny disposition had vanished, replaced by a scowl.
He wasn’t giving up that easily, but he shrugged. “Shall we talk about what you want from me, then?”
“Peace and bloody quiet!”
“And?”
She stood at the kitchen window, sipping her coffee as she watched him over the rim. “I wanted to ask you about your Rome office. The Orphic Guild’s, that is.”
“Does this relate to a certain church and country house in Florence?”
“It might.”
“I thought Jackson was looking into that.”
“Jackson is looking into the church, and something about northeastern directions. I’m helping in my spare time. I have resources, but they’re limited. I need more background on Amato’s country house, and it’s not the type of thing I can really ask the local police about. I have no connections there, nor with the local councils or whatever they call them in Italy.”
“Herne’s horns! I go to the gym for an hour, and so much is going on! You better bring me up to speed.” He started to crack the eggs. “Scrambled okay? Your eggs, I mean, not your hormones.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Harlan!”
“I thought that was funny!”
“It wasn’t, and yes, scrambled!” She leaned against the counter and updated him on the statue and manifestos, and The Brotherhood. “So, we need to know more about that house! Who are Amato’s family? Did he inherit the place or buy it? If so, who from? It has a bloody great temple on the grounds!” Her voice rose indignantly.
“Isn’t this out of your area of jurisdiction?”
“Yes, but I want to help. It’s important.”
“I know. I have a couple of people I speak to in the Rome office, so I’ll call once we’ve eaten. Then I’ll chase up JD. I’m wondering if he’s found anything that could help in his extensive library.” He didn’t mention the Emerald Tablet that JD was still experimenting with. Although he could trust Maggie, they were keeping the information about its existence to a very small group. Instead, he said, “He was obsessed with angels, and hearing about Belial has set him off again.”
“Any little clue would be useful.” Maggie had never met JD, and for that Harlan was grateful. They would be at odds, he was sure.
He plated up the eggs, bacon, hashbrowns, and mushrooms, his brunch treat after the gym. “All right. Let’s eat, and then I’ll make a few calls.”
Shadow grimaced, hands on her hips, as she stared up at the statue of Belial. He looked imperious and patriarchal, and she already loathed him.
“I hate bullies,” she said to Niel, who stood close by. “He must be one of the biggest. I thought Herne was, but I think Belial is worse.”
“He was a nightmare.” Niel had been clearing away some of the undergrowth with his axe, but he paused to catch his breath. “His Nephilim were the same. To be honest, we were all entitled, but they were nightmarish. Worse than Samael’s followers.”
Shadow nodded. He’d suggested as much before, and she’d had long conversations with Gabe about it. “We should smash his statue. I don’t like to think it’s still standing here, waiting for adoration.”
“I like that idea, but perhaps we should take lots of pictures before we destroy it. Something about it might hold clues.”
That brightened her mood. “You promise?”
“It’s funny how the little things please you, sister,” Niel said, laughing.
“You’re the same,” she shot back. “You and that axe are never apart.”
“I’m not disagreeing. We have the same appetite for destruction and swift justice. I just temper it now.”
“So do I, but it’s hard when it’s what you’ve done your whole life.” She studied the statue’s details. It was twice Niel’s height, as was the wingspan’s width on each side, and the feathers were painstakingly carved. “Someone took a great deal of care on this. Do you think it’s the same one as was in the temple at the church?” The events had unfolded so quickly that she wasn’t sure.
Niel paced around it. “The design is the same, I think, but this one is bigger. His features have been worn by the weather, too.”
Belial was rendered with sculpted muscles, his chest bare, and a skirt low on his waist. He wore calf-length boots, and carried a raised sword as if ready to dispense justice. But he clutched something in his other hand. She pointed to it. “Niel, what’s that? Is it a horn?”
“I think so.”
“Did he usually carry one?”
