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the kitchen before Adam finished talking.
    Saul joined us at the kitchen table about five minutesinto the meal. Apparently, showering at superhuman speed was one of his talents.
    As soon as Saul entered the room, I felt the tension that Adam had mentioned. Maybe only because Adam had warned me, but I think even someone as dense as me would have noticed it—though it was a subtle brand of tension.
    The three of them joked and laughed amiably, and Dominic practically glowed when anyone praised his cooking. But there was still something slightly … off. Perhaps it was in the way Saul looked at Dom, with a hint of wistfulness in his expression. Or perhaps Adam was making more possessive little gestures than usual. He did seem to go out of his way to touch Dom. Dom had told me once that Adam was insecure. I had a hard time seeing Adam that way. To me, he always seemed a pillar of self-confidence. Arrogance, actually. But I had to admit, he did rather resemble a man afraid he was going to lose his lover.
    Call me a cynic, but I suspected the reason Adam wanted Saul out was more for his own sake than Dom’s.
    You could never get out of Dom’s kitchen without eating dessert, and tonight was no exception. It was a simple cheesecake, no fancy toppings, no froufrou flavors, but it was the best I’d ever eaten.
    The conversation came to a bit of a lull as we were sipping the dark, bold Italian roast coffee that topped off the meal. I suck at small talk—ask anyone, they’ll agree—but unfortunately that didn’t always stop my gums from flapping at inopportune moments.
    So as some light, pleasant after-dinner conversation, I looked at Saul and blurted, “What’s the deal with you and Raphael, anyway?”
    There was a lot I still didn’t know about Saul, and I had to admit I was curious. It wasn’t until we’dsummoned him to the Mortal Plain that I’d learned his true identity: He was Raphael’s son. Raphael’s
estranged
son. I didn’t know anyone who actually
liked
Raphael—Andy and I both hated him—but I think even we didn’t hate him as much as Saul did.
    My words were about as welcome as a cockroach parade. All three men turned to look at me with varying degrees of disapproval.
    I’ll admit, I knew I was in the wrong. This wasn’t the right time to discuss Saul’s relationship with Raphael. But once I’d hurled the question out there, I wasn’t willing to take it back.
    I shrugged as if unconcerned by the glares the guys were shooting at me. “Come on. It’s a fair question, and I’ve waited more than a week to ask it. I’m not usually that patient.” I could have asked Lugh about it, but we hadn’t been communicating a whole lot lately. I was having a lot of trouble sleeping, and Lugh didn’t want to disturb those hours I managed with our lucid dream conversations.
    “It’s none of your business why Raphael and I don’t get along,” Saul finally said, breaking the tense silence.
    It didn’t escape my notice that Saul had said “Raphael” rather than “my father.” Whatever it was that lay between them, it was deep-seated.
    “You’re both part of Lugh’s council, and I’m Lugh’s host,” I retorted. “If there’s a problem between you and Raphael, I need to know about it.” I tried to sound like the voice of authority, but I’m not sure I succeeded.
    “You know there’s a problem. There’s no reason to go into the specifics.”
    To my surprise, Dominic cut in before I could formulate my reply. “There’s also no reason not to,” he said. “Why should it be a secret?”
    I glanced at Dom, wondering if he knew the answer himself. But I was pretty sure he wouldn’t tell me even if he did. It was Saul’s story to tell—or not to tell, as the case may be.
    Saul’s mouth pursed like he’d just eaten something nasty, but he caved under Dominic’s persuasion.
    “Fine. I’ll tell you all about my relationship with my
sire.”
His eyes narrowed, and I could see the muscles in his