Sins of the Lost

by Linda Poitevin

  “Who called it in? Did they see anything?”

  “One of the neighbors noticed the door coming home from work and found your sister inside. That’s all we have for now. Dr. Riley is staying with Jennifer at the hospital. She’ll call me with the results of the scan. I’m heading over to the house now.”

  She nodded. Remembered he couldn’t see her. Made herself find words. “I’ll catch the first flight out that I—”

  Aramael plucked the phone from her hand. He held up a finger to ward off her fierce objection. “It’s Trent,” he said to Roberts. “How long does it take to get from the airport to Jennifer’s house?” He listened a moment, then said, “She’ll see you then.”

  He slid the phone shut, gave it back to her, and held out a hand. She stared at it, then lifted her gaze to the cold gray of his.

  “But you’re not allowed,” she said.

  “Call it extenuating circumstances. I have a bad feeling about this, Alex. We need to be there.”

  “Detective Jarvis!”

  Alex looked around to see Boileau, cell phone to his ear, framed in the doorway through which she’d come a moment before. He shoved his wire-framed glasses up on his nose and stalked in their direction. She didn’t wait. Didn’t question Aramael about his feeling.

  Wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

  “Outside,” she told him. “It’s quieter.”

  They headed away from Boileau, out into the chill of the night, handing the cell phone off to a security guard at the entrance as they passed. Within seconds they’d rounded the corner of the building and reached a quiet parking lot away from the main traffic area. Aramael stopped where the shadows were deepest.

  “Ready?”

  She shuddered as she thought back to the time when Michael had transported her this way. One could never be ready for that. But she nodded anyway, because it was Jen and Nina, and she needed to be there. With them. For them.

  Aramael drew her tight against his chest. His wings enfolded her. A distant part of her noted that this was only the third embrace she had ever shared with him—if she counted having him protect her from the explosion—and then his body turned liquid with a molten energy that infused her, enshrouded her, became her.

  The world fell away in a rush of vibration and heat.

  Chapter 59

  When they arrived at the car in the Toronto airport parking lot, Alex held out the keys to Aramael. He took them without a word. They both understood she was in no condition to drive.

  He offered to stop by the hospital first to see Jen, but Alex shook her head. Jen was in good hands. They could do nothing for her. Nothing except find her daughter. Find one small, seventeen-year-old girl somewhere out there, in that vast expanse of city.

  She stared out at the passing lights as Aramael maneuvered through traffic. At the storefronts, cars, apartments, and houses; at the people coming and going about their ordinary lives, oblivious to the drama playing out on their very doorsteps. Even if they knew about Nina, to them she would be just another of the city’s casualties. Another teen girl missing from her home. News today, forgotten tomorrow in the rush to get to work, to school, to yoga, to hockey practice. It was the same story in every city around the globe.

  Except maybe for the part where an Archangel from Heaven had a bad feeling about the disappearance.

  Strong fingers closed over hers. Squeezed. Withdrew.

  It will be all right, the touch said.

  She didn’t believe it. She still didn’t ask about the feeling.

  “Do you want to call Seth?” Aramael asked. “He should know you’re back.”

  Seth, who would have seen the newscasts by now and would be out of his mind with worry. Seth, who would be frantically trying to reach her on a cell phone that no longer functioned.

  Seth, son of the One, and source of a thousand complications that she just couldn’t deal with right now.

  “Later,” she said.

  Aramael shot her a quick look but didn’t comment. He turned onto Jen’s street and Alex’s heart gave a shuddering thud on its way to her toes. They pulled up behind a half dozen police cars parked along the curb in front of her sister’s house. Yellow police tape stretched across the bottom of the porch stairs, and the front door stood open. No, not open. Missing.

  Aramael put the vehicle into park and switched off the engine. Gathering herself, Alex made a monumental effort to switch from aunt to cop. To shove anguish to one side. At least for now.

  Her supervisor met her in the shattered doorway. While a disappearance wasn’t within Homicide’s purview—not as long as the victim was assumed to be alive, anyway—the incident involved one of their own. He and the others would be keeping close tabs on it.

  Roberts glanced past her shoulder to Aramael. She ignored his silent question and asked her own.

  “What do we have so far?”

  “We got hold of her school principal and confirmed she made roll call this morning, but we’re still trying to reach the individual teachers for period attendance. We’re canvassing the neighborhood now. Forensics is sweeping for prints.”

  “You know they won’t find anything.”

  “It’s what we do, Alex.” He shrugged. “And maybe we’ll get lucky.”

  She didn’t have it in her to argue.

  Taking her arm, her staff inspector drew her to the side of the staircase. “I wanted to give you a heads-up about something.”

  “The video,” she said. She looked around at the team sweeping for evidence, at the uniform in the doorway. So far no one had paid any more attention to her than they would at any other scene. “How bad is it?”

  “Anyone who knows you will recognize you.”

  Shit. “Has everyone seen it?”

  “In the office? Most. I’ve asked them to keep quiet, but—”

  She waved him silent. It didn’t matter. “There was a man at the scene, the one who pushed the button. He was holding up a sign that said Luke 21:23. I think it might be—”

  “Luke, chapter twenty-one, verse twenty-three,” Joly’s voice intruded. He came down the stairs to join them. “But woe unto them that are with child, and to them that give suck, in those days! For there shall be great distress in the land and wrath upon the people.”

  Alex and Roberts stared at him. He shrugged.

  “Catholic school,” he said. “The brothers thought having me memorize the Book of Luke would put the fear of God into me. I never for the life of me thought it would come in handy.”

  Roberts glanced down at Alex. “Did you tell Ottawa about the sign?”

  She nodded. “They’re looking into it. I wanted to see if tech had run across anything.”

  Her supervisor nodded. “I’ll check with them when I go back to the office. Are you okay if I leave you here? Joly can stay with you if you want.”

  Alex shook her head. “I’m fine.”

  “Then I’ll start checking the incident reports for anyone matching Nina’s description,” Joly said. He hesitated, then slung an arm around her shoulders in a quick squeeze. “We’ll find her, Alex. I—”

  Aramael’s voice, a veritable growl, interrupted. “Alex.”

  She turned, took one look at the scowl stamped on his brow, and extricated herself from Joly’s hold with a mutter of thanks and a good-bye.

  Aramael waited for her by the front window. The same window Nina had shattered almost two months ago, using one of the shards of glass to slice herself open after she witnessed the atrocities committed by Caim. Alex clamped her teeth against a shudder as she reached him.

  “It was Lucifer,” Aramael said without preamble.

  She groped for the back of a chair and waited for her stomach to climb up from the floor. “You’re sure.”

  “There are traces left—” He broke off, his eyes growing grim. “I’m positive.”

  “But why—” She stopped dead. Stared at Aramael. And knew. The room went hazy around its edges as she struggled to ward off the imposs
ibility. The horror.

  She closed her eyes, standing again in a damp, dark alley between Seth and six silent Archangels, facing down Lucifer himself. Lucifer, who had raped her and impregnated her with his child, who had caused her to pick up Seth’s discarded knife and slice into her own belly to end that child’s life.

  Lucifer, whose gloating words were indelibly etched in her memory. “With her extraordinary Nephilim blood—and it is extraordinary, you know—mixed with mine, the child she carries will be a leader among his kind.”

  Her Nephilim blood.

  The same blood that ran through her sister’s veins.

  And her niece’s.

  Her stomach cramped, twisted, rolled. The Fallen One had never been after her. He’d wanted her family. The family she hadn’t been here to protect. A touch on her elbow made her open her eyes again. Roberts, his forehead wrinkled with worry, held out his phone to her.

  “It’s Elizabeth Riley,” he said. “Your sister has regained consciousness.”

  Chapter 60

  Samael stood rigid in the center of Lucifer’s office as the Light-bearer prowled around him in silence. He had delivered his explanation to Hell’s ruler just the way he’d rehearsed it with Mittron, relaxed, confident, without excuses or apologies—

  Hadn’t he?

  He stared at the dark blotch on the carpet near the fireplace, so out of keeping with Lucifer’s usual fastidiousness. Was it because Lucifer no longer cared about such details? Or because he intended it as an intimidation tactic? If the latter, it was working.

  The Light-bearer circled closer. Samael went rigid.

  “You look tense.” Lucifer stopped in front of him, hands in his pockets, the picture of calm.

  He made his fingers uncurl, saw the Light-bearer’s gaze drop to them. He’s waiting for me to lie. He’ll take it as a sign of guilt.

  “I have reason to be tense,” he responded. “My life is on the line if you don’t believe me.”

  Cool purple eyes watched him. Weighed him.

  “I don’t believe you, Samael.”

  Cold trickled through Samael. Run, a voice whispered in his head. His feet, cemented to the floor, disagreed.

  “But you have a point.” Lucifer swung away from him and crossed to the sideboard. Lifting a decanter of port, he raised an eyebrow in Samael’s direction.

  Samael shook his head. Fought to control the quiver coursing through him. “I don’t understand.”

  Lucifer poured a glass of deep ruby-red liquid, replaced the crystal stopper in the decanter, and wandered over to the fireplace. Flames crackled to life in the stone recess. He rested a shoulder against the mantel. “I don’t believe for a second you’ve had my best interests at heart, Archangel. I do, however, think you make a valid point about my army needing to be looked after should anything happen to me. Or to you.”

  Undecided on quite how to reply to grudging praise and a distinct threat delivered in the same breath, Samael decided that remaining silent was his wisest course of action.

  Lucifer swirled his glass. Clockwise. Counter. “You’re certain you can convince Seth to take back his powers and change sides.”

  “He’s almost there now. A couple of nudges will tip him over the edge.”

  “And you’re willing to stake your life on this?”

  That one was a little more difficult to answer, but Samael managed a nod.

  “All right.”

  All right? Samael made a conscious effort not to gape at the Light-bearer. Mittron’s idea had worked? He would never have believed it possible, let alone this eas—

  “You have twenty-four hours.”

  “Twenty-four—but, Lucifer—”

  “My army will be born at that time, Samael. If my son is not at my side, ready and willing to take over my cause if necessary, you die.”

  “Be reasonable. This is—” He ducked as Lucifer’s glass sailed past his head and shattered in a spray of crystal shards and port against the bookcase behind him.

  “Twenty-four hours,” the Light-bearer repeated. “Less an hour for every objection you make.”

  Clenching his teeth, Samael turned on his heel and left. The Light-bearer wanted to be replaced twenty-four hours from now?

  That was fucking fine by him.

  Chapter 61

  Aramael drove her to the hospital. He didn’t walk her in.

  “Mika’el wants to see me,” he said, holding out the keys to her as they stood at the rear of her sedan in the parking garage.

  She stared at them for a moment before taking them. “Will you be back?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Of course. Now that Heaven knew Jen and Nina had been the targets, her own protection no longer mattered. She studied her soulmate, the Archangel who would have given his own life to protect hers. A few days ago, she had wanted nothing to do with him, wanted nothing more than for him to get out of her life.

  Now she couldn’t imagine her life without him in it.

  She turned to walk away. Swung back. “Aramael.”

  Tall and strong and silent, he waited. Quiet fire burned in his gray eyes. For an instant, she wondered what he would do if she crossed the space between them. If she burrowed against that powerful chest and wrapped her arms around him and—

  No. She wouldn’t do that to him. Or to herself. Even before all of this had happened, even before Seth had happened, together had never been an option. Aramael had been right all along. They were a mistake.

  It was up to her to put that mistake behind them once and for all.

  “Thank you,” she said. “For everything.”

  For getting me here, for saving me, for watching over me, for caring even after I chose another. Thank you—and good-bye.

  The fire in Aramael’s eyes dimmed, flickered, died. His gaze traveled over her, lingering on her face as if he would commit every detail to memory. Then he spread his wings wide—his magnificent, coal-black, mighty wings—and gave her a rare small smile.

  “Go,” he said. “Your sister is waiting.”

  She walked away, her footsteps echoing in the cavernous space. When she looked back from halfway down the aisle of cars, he was gone.

  Minutes later, Alex stepped into a hospital emergency ward yet again. The television in the waiting area was tuned to the news. She flinched from the image of herself emerging virtually unscathed from the fireball of the explosion. A few people seated nearby looked around as she walked past, but no recognition sparked and she made herself relax again.

  Reaching the desk, she flashed her badge at the triage nurse, who nodded and buzzed her through the doors separating the waiting room from the ward.

  “Jennifer Abbott?” she asked.

  The nurse glanced at his computer screen. “Bed number six.”

  Following the point of his finger, she skirted a gurney wheeled by paramedics, a woman pacing the corridor with a fractious baby in arms, a young girl about Nina’s age on crutches. The girl offered a smile as she passed. Alex had none to return.

  Elizabeth Riley emerged from the curtained cubicle as Alex arrived, compassion softening her usually sharp features. Her blue eyes brightened with relief.

  “It’s good to see you,” she said, folding Alex into an unexpected embrace. “The explosion is all over the news. How are you?”

  Alex stepped back from the contact and swallowed the lump it had triggered. “I’m fine,” she said. “Just a few stitches.” She motioned at the curtain. “Jen?”

  “Sedated … and restrained.” Riley put out a hand to stop Alex’s instinctive step toward her sister. “Wait. Hear me out first. We had no choice, Alex. One minute she was unconscious, and the next, her eyes were open and she was shrieking nonstop. She gave one of the nurses a broken nose before we pinned her down.”

  Alex didn’t pull back this time. Instead, staring at the beige fabric before her, she made herself focus on Riley’s touch. Let it be her anchor while the world slowly righted itself again. She cleared her
throat.

  “Can she talk?” she asked.

  “It’s unlikely, but you’re welcome to try.”

  Riley stepped into the cubicle and held the curtain aside for her. Alex steeled herself, then moved to the bedside. Jen lay against the pillow, her face pale and hair awry. A four-point restraint system was visible at the edges of the blanket covering her. Compassionate, beautiful, too-serious Jennifer … tied to a hospital bed. Reaching out, Alex brushed the hair back from her sister’s face. Brown eyes stared up at the ceiling without flickering.

  Alex blinked back tears. She cleared the thickening in her throat. “Hey, Jenny-girl.”

  No response.

  She tried again, this time gently turning her sister’s head toward her. “Jen? It’s Alex. I came to see how you’re doing.”

  Jen’s gaze drifted past her, unfocused, uncaring.

  Alex drew a shuddering breath. Christ. She stared down at the woman who had raised her after their parents had died, the woman she had once thought to be the strongest person she knew. If Jen had caved under the pressure, what chance did Alex stand?

  Riley’s hand covered hers on the bed rail. “It’s not unusual for a person’s mind to temporarily close off after a trauma. Give her time. It’s possible this is just the effects of the sedative.”

  The sedative. Alex watched the even rise and fall of her sister’s chest. For the second time that evening, she wondered what it might be like to be drugged, restrained, no longer able—or expected—to take part in the world’s disintegration. The idea held such seductive allure, especially when compared with the alternative.

  Alex’s hand curled beneath Riley’s. She withdrew it and stepped away from the bed. “If she saw what I think she saw, she might be better off staying where she is.”

  “You know what happened to your niece?”

  She shoved her hands into her coat pockets. “Lucifer happened to her. The same way he happened to me. Except Nina’s only—” she broke off. “Oh, God.”

  Riley pushed Alex into the chair beside the bed. “You look like you’re going to pass out. Is it your head? Do you want a doctor?”