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into you, didn’t she. She got to you somehow, and you couldn’t take it—so you ate a bullet. You slit your wrists. You hanged yourself—”
    â€œA cliff.” The voice that interrupted was so hoarse, it was made of ninety percent air. “I, ah . . . I had made a deal with her to save someone.”
    Jim waited for the story to roll out. When it didn’t, he said, “What happened.”
    Ad cleared his throat and covered his face with those shaking hands. “I made an arrangement to save someone and I turned myself over to that demon. I was down on that table of hers for . . . it felt like years. Eddie told me later it was two nights of earth time. When I came back, after she released me, I wasn’t the same.”
    Like bats out of Hell itself, memories of Jim’s own time down there swarmed and descended, clouding his brain. He knew exactly what Ad was talking about. He’d been on that table, too.
    That was how his path had first crossed Sissy’s.
    After he’d found her body, that was.
    â€œI thought I was okay.” Ad shook his head. “I wasn’t. I lasted about a week, made some excuse to Eddie about going somewhere. I was going to shoot myself, but I’m an angel, right? Iwanted to die flying. So I jumped and did nothing about it . . . the canyon was about seventy feet deep. I hit hard and that was all it took. Split second later—shit, I thought I’d survived. I woke up in Purgatory—I thought it was gray because of moonlight or some shit.”
    Finally, Ad dropped his arms. His eyes, both of them, were red ringed from tears he refused to let fall.
    â€œEddie went there because of me, but he was also the reason we got out. The Creator has a thing for love.” Ad stared at his own hands, watching them shake. “I mean, Eddie sacrificed himself for me, and that’s love, right? Not the dumb-ass romantic kind . . . but the real shit. So yeah, when Nigel went to the Creator and argued for us—that was what worked. Nigel was able to strike an arrangement that freed us about a month before you came along. If we see you through this war? We’re free. It’s our penance.”
    â€œSo you can help me find that archangel and get him back.”
    â€œMaybe Devina is talking out of her ass, though. Not like that bitch has a problem lying—”
    â€œSo you can help me,” he repeated.
    Ad shook his head again. “Jim, this is a really bad idea.”
    â€œBut you can get me there, can’t you.”
    â€œNo, that’s on you.”
    As their eyes met, Jim knew exactly what the guy was talking about. “But you can help me out of there.”
    â€œNo, I can’t. Didn’t you listen to me? It’s not up to us, buddy.” Ad looked up at the ceiling. “Your exit visa can only be issued by the Creator.”
    Jim could sense the guy retreating—and that couldn’t happen. “Listen, this is an extraction. Nothing more, nothing less. You think I haven’t done one of these before? I’ll go in, get him, bring him out—”
    â€œYou don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”
    â€œThere has to be a way.” Jim curled up a fist and banged it on the table, making the plate and fork dance. “Even if Devina is wrong? Heaven is stronger with Nigel back up there. Colin’s head is completely fucked with the bastard gone, and right now, Bert and Ernie—”
    â€œThat would be Albert and Byron.”
    â€œFine, whatever. Call ’em Mozart and Beethoven for all I care. The two of them are holed up in the Manse of Souls, stuck there, while Colin is disintegrating. And this is not a hypothetical. I went up there after I got home last night. All it’s going to take is for Devina to get a hard-on to hit the place, and then we got another set of problems we don’t need. Hell, the Creator