After stopping the Apocalypse and saying goodbye to Kimberly and Anjelica, I set out to figure out who was trying to kill us. That “us” did not include Kimberly, of course, as she was simply sucked into my vortex, like so many other unfortunate souls. Most mortals didn’t survive tumbling into my web of misfortune, but she did, and that was impressive.

The “us” was Anjelica and me. Kimberly had taken her to live in safety and anonymity, but if I could find the demon who was trying to kill us, maybe she could return home and live a normal life, though I didn’t know what “a normal life” meant for demon spawn. She might become an accountant, die in her sleep at 200, or live to be 1,000. It was a shot in the dark. Whole schools of magic existed to exploit the inconsistencies in the underlying code of the universe.

Back in school, we had learned about physics, Isaac Newton, and the stupid apple that fell on his dumb head. Centuries later, Albert Einstein came along, and his theories and scientists were sure they knew exactly what made up the universe—then came 1964, and Murray Gell-Mann discovered quarks. Little tiny particles smaller than atoms that broke everything humans knew about the physical world. Particles that didn’t act like anything else in the universe. Particles that acted like magic.

I always knew that the universe was chaos. I often felt like one of those quarks, unstable and unpredictable, going strange when I should go charm, and up when I should go bottom, affecting the universe in uncharted and often unwanted ways.

I supposed we were all chaos agents to everything we touched. Anjelica was surely that for me. She dropped into my life like a bomb, forced me to care about another person for the first time in a long time, and then evaporated into the ether. She upended everything.

I thought about her more than I imagined I would since she’d been hidden away from everyone in the world. I thought about getting in touch with Kimberly so that I could ask her about Anjelica, but she was right. It was better I didn’t know.

Before she fell into my life, Anjelica was a normal fifteen-year-old kid. I mean, she was born a demon, which was highly abnormal, but she didn’t know that. She was just a cheerleading, pep squad, honor roll student at Pasadena Prep. You could have used her as the standard by which normalcy was judged.

Yes, I looked her up. Yes, I went to her house. Yes, I watched her mother cry every night for a week when she didn’t come home. I saw the cops come and take her statement. I witnessed the frantic calls she made to the whole world. I observed her summoning circle and the pleas she made on Anjelica’s demon father, and I saw the light drain from her eyes when she ran out of options.

I didn’t know why I went to Anjelica’s house every day. It wasn’t even about Anjelica, really. It was about the fact that I opened up for once in my miserable life, and she was the first in a long line of beings, celestial or otherwise, that didn’t twist a knife deep in my back. I also realized that I actually enjoyed her company.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

I had convinced myself that I didn’t need friendship in my life, that I didn’t need somebody to believe in me when I didn’t believe in myself—but when it was taken from me, it left a chasm—aw Hell, what am I talking about? It was one night, and her leaving was for the best. Anyone can be sweet for a night, but over a long-time horizon, they all betrayed you if given a chance.

That’s why you didn’t give them a chance. Remember that, Ollie. That’s why you allowed yourself to get lost in your work. Nobody was worth it. Look out for number one. There were things you needed to get done, for you.

Which was what led me to the port of Leixões in the north of Portugal, about ten minutes from Porto. It’s the biggest port in Portugal, but normal people know it as the home to port wine, the delicious, fortified wine that I could drink by the gallon. I was looking for something that had been taken from me.

One of the advantages of being a Nephilim is that I could understand and speak every language fluently even if I’d only heard a couple of words of it. I wasn’t sure exactly how it worked, nor did I care. I learned long ago not to question magic. All it gave you was migraines.

Speaking in tongues was handy, especially for somebody that arranged deals with all sorts of people and took all sorts of clients from around the world, traveling to them with the snap of a finger by ripping a hole in the fabric of space-time. That method of travel certainly saved money, which was an added bonus since the demon that stiffed me for three million dollars was elusive, and I was broke.

“Kalle!” I shouted at the dock manager. I’d been searching for him all over the enormous docks for the better part of an hour. Kalle navigated the docks like a five-star general, directing traffic like an air traffic controller, which meant even when he told you to meet him somewhere, there was only a ten percent chance he would actually show up. Today was no different.

“Ollie!” Kalle said. He had gained weight since the last time I saw him, but he wore it well, and now a thick, black beard covered his chin and hung down to his chest. He wrapped me in a hug, and the coarse hair bristled against my chin and itched uncomfortably. “It’s good to see you.”

I patted him on the back. I didn’t like hugs, but I knew they were a part of doing business with people, especially Portuguese people, who were considerably touchier than my British and American contacts. “It’s good to see you, too, my friend. You have something to show me?”

“Always business with you.” He smiled with his whole face. “I haven’t seen you in years. Aren’t you going to ask me how I’ve been?”

“Must we with the pleasantries?” I sighed because I knew the answer was yes. “How have you been?”

“Fat!” He bellowed through a loud laugh, slapping his stomach and sending ripples across his belly. “Two children and a wife have me stress eating everything in sight, but it’s wonderful. Would you like to see pictures?”

I really didn’t care to see them. “No. I’m sure they are—”

It was too late. He was already digging in his back pocket for his wallet. When he unfolded it, a half dozen images sealed in plastic folded out. “This is Dada.” He pointed to a very tiny girl with dark hair and eyes wearing a pink dress and smiling. “And this tiny one is Gael. What a blessing and a curse, but mostly a blessing…most days.” I didn’t know how to tell babies apart. The boy, I assumed from its blue jumper, looked exactly like a baby, with two hands, feet, and eyes.

“They’re beautiful,” I replied because that was the thing to say.

He flipped his wallet closed and stuffed it back in his pocket. “Enough small talk. We don’t have time. You are so nosy.” He gave me a teasing grin. He started to powerwalk down the dock. “Come, come. Or do you not want your prize?”

“Oh no,” I said, following behind. “I’m coming. Lead the way.”