“Joie – lynn,” I heard a man’s voice, cooing, coming from the nursery. It was not Sebastien’s voice, but it was no less familiar to my ears. “What a little miracle you are,” the voice continued.
I turned the corner to see my infant daughter in the arms of the Fallen One. Azazeal. If he had noticed my entrance, he did not give any indication that he had. Instead, he continued to coo at and nuzzle my infant daughter, “Did you know that your Papa, he was once dead,” he said as if he were telling her a grand Faerie tale, “but your Maman, well, she asked her friend for help so that she could bring back your Papa,” he nuzzled her closer now, “You are just like her, Jocelyn – just like your Maman, in that you know exactly what you want. ” he traced a line across her cheek and into the profusion of her dark hair with the back of his forefinger and bent to kiss her.