Whatever amount of softness on Ishiah's face vanished then, weathered down to a harsh edge, unforgiving, even full of a righteous wrath. Although he had stepped away from the war long ago, decided to settle himself in Manhattan for a life apart from all of the clashes between Heaven and Hell, it didn't mean that he liked demons any more than he had as a potentate. Any more than when his body was no more than a crystalline statue meant to bring his sword down on the unworthy.

"A demon killed your brother," he repeated softly, eyes following the glinting movement of the knife slicing through the air. "I am sorry to hear of your loss, and were it in my power to help..."

He paused, evaluating his own priorities.

"I would do everything I could."