"I'll get it!" a small-girl voice said from behind the door, and -- before anyone could have answered -- the door was open, and Dante was looking down at a six-year-old with dark shoulder-length hair, a baseball cap, and a set of black wings poking over her shoulders.

"Hi," she said. "Who're you?"

Alana gave an apologetic shrug but stayed quiet. (She also crossed Dante off a mental list of possible fathers -- not that he'd been very high on it to start with.)