"So you've never seen it? How do you know for sure this one is yours?"

 "The signature. When I feel it, I feel half of my own aura and half of... hers. No other creature could have that combination."

 "And you've felt that every time?"

 "Yes."

 "Wow. Yet you know nothing else about it."

 "Correct. As I said, I was gone long before it was born."

 "Then... then it would make sense that you really are a target," I told him, gesturing to the wall. "Even independent of all this. The nephilim has especial reason to be pissed off at you."

 "Thanks for the unconditional support."

 "I didn't mean it like that. I just meant... the nephilim already have good cause to be angry. Everybody hates them and tries to kill them. And this one... well, people spend thousands of dollars on therapy to get over bad experiences with their fathers. Imagine what kind of neuroses would develop after several thousand years."

 "Are you suggesting a family counseling session, Georgie ?"

 "No... no, of course not. Although... I don't know. Have you tried talking to it? Reasoning with it?" I remembered Erik's comment about nephilim just wanting to be left alone. "Maybe you could work something out."

 "All right, this conversation is growing more absurd, if that's possible." Jerome turned to Carter. "You want to take them home now?"

 "I'm staying with you," the angel stated flatly.

 "Oh, for Christ's sake, I thought we settled this—"

 "He's right," I piped up. "The warning phase is over. I'm safe now."

 "We don't know—"

 "And besides, this wasn't so much about my safety anyway as having Carter keep me from finding out the truth about your family problems. It's too late now, and I'm tired of having a shadow. You keep him, and we'll all sleep easy, even if it is overkill."

 "Eloquently put," chuckled Carter.

 Jerome still protested, and we bickered a bit more about it, but in the end, the decision rested in Carter's hands. Jerome had no power to order him around; indeed, if Carter wanted to follow the demon indefinitely, there was nothing Jerome could do, not really. They weren't going to wage any epic battles with each other, no matter how annoyed they currently seemed.

 Carter did agree to teleport us back, though I suspected it was more of a kind gesture to make sure Cody and I could never find Jerome's place again. After he'd taken the vampire home, Carter transported me to my living room, hesitating before he disappeared again.

 "It is better this way, I think," he told me. "Me staying with Jerome. I know the nephilim can't be stronger than him... but there's still something weird going on. I'm not convinced you're out of danger either, but whatever's going on with you is something entirely different." He shrugged. "I don't know. There are a lot of hard calls here; I wish Jerome would let us get a little outside help. Not too much, of course. Just something. Anything."

 "Don't worry," I assured him. "I'll manage. You can't be everywhere at once."

 "Isn't that the truth. I'll have to ask this nephilim how it does it when this is over."

 "You can't question the dead."

 "No," he agreed grimly. "You can't." He turned as if to depart.

 "It's weird..." I began slowly. "The whole idea of Jerome loving someone. And falling because of it."

 He gave me one of those canny, creepy smiles. "Love doesn't make angels fall, Georgina. If anything, love can have quite the opposite effect."

 "So, what? If Jerome fell in love again, he could turn back into an angel?"

 "No, no. It's not quite that simple." Seeing my baffled look, he chuckled and gave my shoulder a quick squeeze. "Watch out for yourself, Daughter of Lilith. Call if you need help."

 "I will," I assured him as he blinked out, not that ever actually getting a hold of higher immortals was easy. Jerome could sense if I was hurt, but he was a lot harder to call for a casual chat.

 I went to bed shortly thereafter, fatigued by everything that had happened, too tired to worry about nephilim attacking me in my sleep. I worked the closing shift tomorrow, and it was my last day before another two days off. I needed the break.

 I woke up later the next morning, still alive. While walking into the bookstore, I ran into Seth, armed with his laptop, ready for another day of writing. Recalling the dance lesson with him put my nephilim concerns temporarily at bay.

 "Got my book?" I asked as he held the door open for me.

 "Nope. Got my shirt?"

 "Nope. I like the one you're wearing, though." His themed T-shirt today displayed the logo for the musical Les Miserables. "My all-time favorite song comes from that."

 "Really?" he asked. "Which one?"

 "'I Dreamed a Dream.'“

 "That's a really depressing song. No wonder you don't want to date."

 "So what's your favorite then?" I had asked Roman my stock question, but not Seth.

 " 'Ultraviolet' by U2. You know it?"

 We approached the espresso counter. Bruce was there, and he started making my mocha before I even ordered. "I know some of their other stuff, but not that one. What's it about?"

 "Love, of course. Like all good songs. The pain of love juxtaposed with its redemptive power. A bit more optimistic than yours."

 I remembered Carter's comment from last night. Love doesn't make angels fall.

 Seth and I sat down to talk, conversation now flowing smoothly between us. Hard to believe there had ever been any awkwardness, I thought. He was so comfortable.

 Finally, knowing I had to work sometime, I dragged myself away to check on the rest of the staff and then retreat to my office. I only intended to check my e-mail, however; I felt sociable today and wanted to work the floor. Tossing my purse on the desk, I started to sit in my chair when I saw a too-familiar white envelope with my name on it.

 My breath caught. So much for being off the nephilim's radar. Trembling, I lifted the envelope up, opening it with clumsy fingers.

 Miss me? I imagine you've been kept pretty busy with your immortal friends, making sure everyone is safe and accounted for. I imagine you've been just as busy with your oh-so-fascinating personal life, barely sparing a thought for me. Cruel, considering all I've done for you.

 I wonder, though, do you worry just as much about the mortals in your life as you do the immortals? Admittedly, mortal deaths are so much less meaningful. After all, what's fifty less years compared to the centuries of an immortal? Mortals hardly seem worth the fuss, yet you put on a good face of caring for them. But do you really? Or are they just a diversion for the long stretch of your own centuries? What about your boyfriend? Is he another toy, another hobby to pass the time? Does he really mean anything to you?

 Let's find out. Convince me he does today. You have until the end of your shift to ascertain his safety. You know the rules— keep him in safe places, keep others around him, etc., etc. I'll be with you, watching. Convince me you really care, and I'll spare him. Make me believe. Fail— or involve any of your immortal contacts— and no amount of "safekeeping" will do him any good.

 I dropped the note, hands cold. What kind of fucked-up game was this? It made no sense. The nephilim told me in one breath to keep someone safe, yet implied in the next that it didn't matter, that there was no safety. It was stupid, another stirring of the waters, shaking up the status quo just to watch what I'd do. Looking around uneasily, I wondered: Was the nephilim here now? Was Jerome's disgruntled offspring lurking invisibly beside me, smirking at my distress? What should I do?

 Finally, and perhaps most importantly, just who the hell was my boyfriend anyway?