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“I know I’m right.” The Brother came forward and sat down on the bed. “He knew her.”

Who?

“He knew Xhex. He was there when she was born, when her mother . . .” There was a long pause, as if Tohr had had his brain scrambled and the sloshing hadn’t quite quieted down yet. “When her mother died, he took Xhex to a family who could care for her. He loved that young—and so did I. That was why he called her Xhexania. He watched her from afar—”

The epileptic attack came on so suddenly, John didn’t have time to try to fight the seizure—one moment he was sitting upright listening to Tohr; the next he was down on the floor doing the not-this-again jitterbug.

When his synapses finally stopped snap-crackle-popping, and his flopping limbs fell still, his breath heaved in and out of his mouth. To his relief, Tohr was right over him, crouching down.

“How you doing?” the guy asked tightly.

John shoved against the floor and sat upright. Rubbing his face, he was glad to find his eyesight still worked. Never thought he’d be glad to get a clear picture of Lassiter’s mug.

Struggling for control of his hands, he managed to sign, Feel like I’ve been in a blender.

The fallen angel nodded gravely. “And you look it, too.”

Tohr shot the guy a glare, then refocused on John. “Don’t mind him, he’s blind.”

“No, I’m not.”

“In another minute and a half, you’re going to be.” Tohr hitched a hold on John’s biceps and dragged him back onto the bed. “You want a drink?”

“Or maybe a new brain?” Lassiter offered.

Tohr leaned in. “As a public service, I’ll make him mute, too, ’kay?”

You are such a giver.

There was a long pause and then John signed, My father knew her?

“Yes.”

You did, too, didn’t you.

“Yes.”

In the silence that followed, John decided that some things were best just left at their definition. And this was one of them, given the Brother’s tight expression.

“I’m glad you’re wearing his ring,” Tohr said abruptly as he got to his feet. “Especially on a night like tonight.”

John looked at the hunk of gold on his finger. It felt so right. As if he’d been wearing it for years.

Me, too, he signed.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get dressed myself.”

As John glanced up, he was taken back to a moment all that time ago when he’d answered the door to his shitty studio and leveled a gun up, up, way up, into the guy’s face.

And now Tohr had brought him his ceremonial mating robes.

The Brother smiled a little. “I wish your father was here to see this.”

John frowned and rolled that signet ring around on his finger, thinking about how much he owed the male. Then on a quick surge, he burst to his feet . . . and embraced the Brother hard. Tohr seemed momentarily surprised but then strong arms reciprocated.

When John pulled back, he stared straight into those eyes. He is here, he signed. My father is right here with me.

An hour later, John was standing on the mosaic floor in the foyer, shifting his weight back and forth between his two feet. He was dressed in the traditional mating ceremony garb of a noble male of worth, the black silk pants falling to the floor, the loose top secured with a jeweled belt that had been presented to him for use by the king.

The decision had been made to conduct the ceremony at the base of the grand staircase, in the archway that was formed by the dining room. The double doors of where everyone ate had been shut to form a wall, and on the other side of them, the doggen had set out a feast.

Everything was arranged, the Brotherhood standing in a line next to him, the shellans and other members of the household assembled in a loose half-circle across the way. Among those playing witness, Qhuinn was on one end; Blay and Saxton were on the other. iAm and Trez were in the middle, having been invited as special guests.

As John looked all around the space, he took note of the malachite columns and the marble walls and the chandeliers. There had been so many times since he had come here to stay when people had told him how much his father would have enjoyed people filling up all the rooms and