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than I wanted to sanely contemplate.
    One forever night ago, the archangels had made me the deal of a lifetime. They’d promised to give me the power to kill Hank—if I quashed the Nephilim rebellion. At first, I
hadn’t planned on taking the deal, but Hank had forced my hand. He’d tried to burn Patch’s feather and send him to hell. So I shot him.
    Hank was dead, and the archangels were expecting me to stop the Nephilim from going to war.
    This was where things got tricky. Just hours before I shot Hank, I’d sworn an oath to him, vowing to lead his Nephilim army. Failure to comply would result in my death, and my
mom’s.
    How to fulfill my promise to the archangels and my oath to Hank? I saw only one option. I
would
lead Hank’s army. To peace. Probably not what he had pictured while forcing me to
swear the oath, but he wasn’t around now to argue the details. It didn’t slip my mind, however, that in turning my back on the rebellion, I was also allowing the Nephilim to remain in
bondage to fallen angels. It didn’t seem right, but life was paved with difficult decisions. As I was learning all too well. Right now, I was more concerned with keeping the archangels happy
than the Nephilim.
    “What do we know about my oath?” I asked Patch. “Dante said it went into effect when Hank died, but who determines if I keep it or not? Who determines what I can and
can’t do in terms of carrying out my oath? Take you, for instance. I’m confiding in you, a fallen angel and the sworn enemy of Nephilim. Won’t the oath strike me dead for
treason?”
    “The oath you swore was about as vague as you could have made it. Luckily,” Patch said with obvious relief.
    Oh, it had been vague all right. And to the point.
If you die, Hank, I’ll lead your army.
Not a word more.
    “As long as you stay in power and lead the Nephilim, I think you’re within the terms of the oath,” Patch said. “You never promised Hank you’d go to war.”
    “In other words, the plan is to stay out of war and keep the archangels happy.”
    Patch sighed, almost to himself. “Some things never change.”
    “After Cheshvan, after the Nephilim give up on freedom, and
after
we’ve put a big, fat smile of contentment on the archangels’ faces, we can put this behind us.”
I kissed him. “It’ll just be you and me.”
    Patch groaned. “It can’t come fast enough.”
    “Hey, listen,” I told him, anxious to move on to
any
topic other than war, “I was approached by a man tonight. A man who wants a word with you.”
    Patch gave a nod. “Pepper Friberg.”
    “Does Pepper have a face as round as a basketball?”
    Another nod. “He’s tailing me because he thinks I went back on an agreement we had. He doesn’t want a word with me. He wants to chain me in hell and dust his hands of
me.”
    “Is it just me, or does that sound kind of serious?”
    “Pepper Friberg is an archangel, but he’s got his hand in more than one pot. He’s leading a double life, spending half his time as an archangel, and the other half moonlighting
as a human. Up until now, he’s been living the best of both worlds. He has the power of an archangel, which he doesn’t always use for good while indulging in human vices.”
    So Pepper was an archangel. No wonder I hadn’t been able to identify him. I hadn’t had a lot of experience dealing with archangels.
    Patch went on, “Someone has figured out his crooked game, and word has it they’re blackmailing him. If Pepper doesn’t pay up soon, his vacation time on Earth is going to become
a lot more permanent. The archangels will strip his power and tear out his wings if they find out what he’s been up to. He’ll be stuck down here for good.”
    The pieces clicked together. “He thinks
you’re
blackmailing him.”
    “A while back I figured out what he was up to. I agreed to keep his secret, and in return he agreed to help me get my hands on a copy of the Book of Enoch. He hasn’t delivered on his