The following weeks fell into a rhythm – research with Arietta in the afternoon and training with Samael in the evenings. Michael made advances into the otherworlds. I found myself battling angels in Olympus, fighting seraphs in the aboriginal Dreaming, slaying cherubim in the Aztec afterlife, and pummeling ophanim in Avalon. I got drinks with the Morrigan and danced with Coyote, making rounds through different pantheons and reading up on their mythology afterward. It was a crash course in the supernatural, and I barely kept up with my studies.
February came. I hunched over my desk, studying methylation for genetics. Rosanna looked up from painting her toenails. She waggled her foot at me.
I laughed. "What is it?"
"Oh, nothing," she said, dipping her brush into the bottle of cherry red paint. She swiped a streak on her big toe.
"You've been humming Siouxsie and the Banshees all day. Obviously, something's up."
