A black carriage awaited us outside the castle gates. Rosier lazed in the buggy seat, dapper in a dark red pinstripe suit, smoking a cigarillo. He surveyed my limp form, cradled in Samael's arms.
"I knew she wouldn't last the night. Our illustrious company proved too much, eh, Sam?"
Samael climbed into the back, depositing me gently on the seat opposite him. "Actually, it was the angels that did her in. It was Michael's brilliant idea to bless her."
"What, did she sneeze?"
"Funny, Rosier." Samael shut the carriage door.
