Sins of the Lost

by Linda Poitevin

  “What day is it?” Alex whispered. She hunched over, protecting herself from what the psychiatrist would tell her. What she already knew.

  “Alex, if you’re experiencing confusion—” Riley tipped up her chin with one hand and peered into her eyes.

  “What day is it?”

  “It’s Friday.”

  “Christ. I missed it.”

  “Missed what? Look at this and follow it.” Riley held up a finger. “Was there any blow to your head? It was hard to tell from that video. We should have you checked out, just in case.”

  Alex pushed away the psychiatrist’s hand. “Her birthday, Riley. I missed Nina’s birthday. It was yesterday, and I forgot it. She turned seventeen.”

  All those calls from Jen, all those texts she’d ignored because she hadn’t wanted to deal with another confrontation—and all her sister had wanted to do was remind her. And now Nina was gone. Son of a bitch.

  “Oh …” The word drew out into a sigh.

  Alex braced herself for the words of comfort, the false reassurance, but Riley merely reached out and stroked back her hair, as if she understood the enormity of the failure. Tears clawed at Alex’s throat, burned behind her eyes. A phone call. She could have at least made a phone call, or sent an e-mail, or texted …

  Happy birthday, Nina. I love you.

  Shit.

  A hundred recriminations stabbed at Alex’s soul. She’d failed the two people who mattered most to her in the world. Opened them up to monsters beyond their understanding and then left them to fend for themselves. And three weeks from now, Nina would die giving birth to Lucifer’s baby.

  Sweet, sweet Nina, little more than a child herself.

  Alex levered herself up from the chair. She motioned to her sister. “Will you stay?” she asked Riley. “Will you look after her for me?”

  Riley rose to her feet. “Of course. You’re going to look for Nina?”

  “Not look, find,” Alex said fiercely. “I might not be able to save her, but I’ll be damned if I’ll let her die alone.”

  Chapter 62

  “What do you mean, no?” Aramael towered over the desk, glaring down at the Archangel Mika’el.

  Mika’el glowered back. “I mean,” he enunciated between his teeth, “no. I need you here, and the Naphil doesn’t need your protection anymore. You’re done with her.”

  “And her niece? Are we done with her, too?”

  “There are more than seven billion mortal souls on a planet that is about to implode. Do you really think we can drop everything and go running after a Naphil who is going to die whether we find her or not?”

  “Protecting mortal souls from the Fallen is our job, Mika’el. It’s what we do.”

  “No. What we do is stand between Earth and Hell so that mortals can live their lives independently, according to their own choices. We maintain balance, Aramael. That is our job.”

  “But she carries the child of Lucifer.”

  “Which changes nothing. With or without a leader born of the Light-bearer, the Nephilim are not our concern. You know this, Aramael.”

  Short, angry strides carried Aramael across the room. Mika’el was right. He did know it—had always known it. But somehow it had become muddled during his time with Alex. Less clear-cut. Infinitely more difficult. He spun to face Mika’el.

  “This was easier when I was a Power,” he growled.

  “When you were a Power, you had no free will of your own. No reason to question your path.”

  “What about you? You left before the Cleanse. You didn’t give up your free will when the rest of us did. Does that mean you’ve always lived with this level of conflict going on inside you?”

  “Or worse,” Mika’el agreed.

  “So deciding to leave when you did …”

  The Archangel’s jaw flexed. “Wasn’t easy. Just as this isn’t easy for you. I get that. But I ask nothing of you or any of the others that I wouldn’t do—that I haven’t already done—myself. I need you here, Aramael. With us.”

  Hands shoved into his pockets, Aramael stalked over to the suit of armor, identical to his, standing in the corner. He scowled at it, his back to Mika’el. “You hold me to an awfully high standard.”

  “Because I know you’re capable.”

  He thought of Alex, left alone to face her own impossible choices. How much more could she take? How long before Heaven’s demands broke her? He closed his eyes as the ache in his chest spread to engulf his soul. And how long would he be able to stay away, knowing her pain?

  Bleakly, he turned back to the other Archangel. “I hope you’re right.”

  ***

  Alex pressed the lock button on the key fob and then stood by her vehicle, staring up at the light shining from the apartment she shared with Seth. She didn’t want to go up there. Didn’t want to face him. Didn’t want to do this. Especially not now, with Jennifer and Nina—

  She breathed in raggedly, exhaling a plume of steam. She didn’t want to, but she had to. She’d already avoided it long enough, and he deserved better from her. Hell, she hadn’t even called him after the explosion on the Hill this afternoon to reassure him she was all right, never mind let him know she’d come back to Toronto. It was time to stop being a coward.

  She let herself into the building and crossed the foyer to the elevator, her boot heels thudding hollowly on the ceramic tiles. Her internal voice kept up a running monologue of instructions, without which she might not have moved. Push button. Wait. Step inside. Stare at numbers. Press six. Lean against wall. Stare at ceiling.

  Breathe.

  She drew a lungful of air. For something that was supposed to be an autonomic body function, she’d had to remind herself to do that a lot since leaving the hospital. Several times in the car while she’d waited for Aramael, before admitting to herself he wasn’t coming back after all. Several more times before she managed to insert the key into the ignition and get herself out of the parking lot. Many more on the way home. She closed her eyes.

  Breathe.

  She’d wanted him gone, and now he was. The Fallen hadn’t been after her, and so there was no need for him to continue watching her. No reason for him to stay. He was gone, Nina was gone, Jen was as good as gone, and Alex had no choice but to send Seth away.

  The elevator door slid open onto a hallway as empty as her world had become.

  Breathe.

  Chapter 63

  “Going somewhere?”

  Seth looked up from throwing things into the overnight bag on the bed. Samael lounged in the doorway, his expression one of mild interest. Seth took a pair of socks from a drawer.

  “Beat it,” he said. “I’m not interested.”

  Ignoring him, Samael strolled into the room. “There’s remarkably little personality to this abode. Have you noticed? None of the clutter mortals are so prone to collect. It has such an impermanent feel to it.”

  Seth clutched the edges of the overnight bag. He didn’t want to answer, but the words were torn from him—much as a groan would be torn from a man whose open wound had just been poked with a hot knife. “She’s been a little busy trying to stop your kind from destroying her world.”

  “Of course. I wasn’t being critical, Appointed. Just making an observation.”

  “Yes, well you can take your observations straight back to Hell with you.” Seth zipped up the bag. “Because I’m done. No more journals, no more innuendo. Not interested. Get out.”

  “So things are better between you two. I’m glad.”

  “Like Hell you are.” Seth slung the bag over one shoulder, switched off the bedside lamp, and headed for the door.

  Samael tagged along behind him. “I am, believe me. Still, that performance Aramael put on this afternoon must have irked just a little. Flaunting his connection to her that way.”

  Seth’s fingers gripped the bag’s strap a little harder. “He saved her life.”

  “Raising questions about how she survived in the process.” Sama
el’s tone took on a chiding note. “You and I both know no other angel would have done that. Not in a million years. His instinct to protect her goes far deeper than mere orders.”

  Seth doggedly continued his tour of the apartment, turning out lights.

  Samael persisted. “The soulmate connection—”

  Seth rounded on the Fallen One. “She chose me,” he snarled. “Not him, me. That’s all that matters.”

  “Is it? Then explain to me why you’re heading out the door to go to her when she has already returned. It’s all very sweet of you, of course, wanting to be certain of her well-being, but—”

  “Alex is back?”

  “She didn’t call? How remiss of her. She returned hours ago—safely wrapped in Aramael’s arms.”

  The breath in Seth’s lungs turned thick. “You’re lying. She would have let me know.”

  “One would think so, given the relationship you’re supposed to have with her,” Samael agreed. “But in this instance, one would be wrong.”

  The Fallen One circled behind him in the cramped hallway. Tutted. “Look around you, Appointed. See where you are, what you’ve become. You’re the son of the two greatest powers in the universe, and yet you subject yourself to this, a few rooms shared with a mortal woman who has no appreciation for what you truly are? For what she has in you?”

  “She loves me.”

  “Your mother loved your father, and look where it got him. This is like watching history repeat itself all over again. It’s pathetic.”

  Seth scowled. “You’re wrong. I’ve read the journals, and this is different. I’m not my father, Alex is nothing like my mother, and I’m not giving her up. What we have—”

  Samael stopped in front of him, inches away, and returned his scowl. “What you have, Appointed, is a woman who devotes her time—her life—to a dying race rather than to the man who gave up everything for her.”

  “You’re wrong,” Seth repeated, but even to his own ears, the words lacked conviction. He reached inside himself for the confidence he’d woken up with that morning, the certainty he and Alex had at last found the connection that could see them through anything. Alex had told him she loved him and—

  “You keep telling yourself that. Let me know when you start believing it.”

  The rattle of keys outside the door drew both their gazes.

  “The prodigal Naphil returns.” Samael drew back into the living room. “My cue to go—for now. There’s just one last thing.”

  “You haven’t delivered enough poison already?”

  The Fallen One shrugged. “Consider this an antidote. Because I’d hate to leave you thinking it has to be like this. Not when you could change everything if you take back your birthright.”

  “I told you, I’m not giving up Alex.”

  “But don’t you see, Seth, son of Lucifer? Take back your powers, and you don’t have to. Not ever.”

  Samael disappeared, the front door opened, and a pale, haggard Alex stepped into the apartment.

  “We need to talk,” she said.

  Chapter 64

  “So it’s true,” Seth said. “You’re back.”

  Alex hesitated in the doorway. “How did you—?”

  “Does it matter? I didn’t find out from you.”

  “I’m sorry. Things were insane. I didn’t have time …” And I didn’t think about calling, and when I did think about it, I couldn’t face talking to you and—

  Her gaze dropped to the overnight bag slung over his shoulder. “Are you going somewhere?”

  “I was coming to Ottawa to see you. I was worried when I didn’t hear from you.”

  Guilt slithered through her. “I’m sorry. I should have called. You saw the news?”

  “I saw what Aramael did for you.”

  Innocuous words. A flat delivery. And a powder keg to which she preferred not to put a match. She closed the door and twisted the dead bolt home. Seth set the overnight bag on the living room floor.

  “I’m okay,” she said. “But Jen’s in the hospital and Nina—Nina’s missing. Lucifer has her.”

  He took his coat off and dropped it on top of the bag, slid his hands into his pockets. “I’m sorry to hear that. I know you cared about her.”

  She blinked back sudden tears. “Care, Seth. Present tense. She’s not dead.”

  Yet.

  The word hung between them. Seth cleared his throat.

  “Don’t,” she said. “Don’t say it.”

  “You know there’s nothing you can do.”

  “I can find her.”

  “Why? So you can watch her die?”

  She shrank from the bluntness but made herself square her shoulders. “If that’s all I can do, then yes. And hold her when she does. She’s just a child, Seth. She needs me.”

  “Someone always needs you, Alex.” He sighed, taking a hand from his pocket and rubbing it over his eyes, then along his jaw. “How are you even going to find her? If Lucifer has her, she could be anywhere on the planet.”

  Alex looked down at the floor between them. This was it. Her moment of decision. Speak the words and destroy the man she loved, or swallow them and condemn the planet. She crossed her arms over herself, knowing the gesture was defensive, needing the protection.

  “You could help.”

  Time itself stood still as a hundred different emotions flashed across Seth’s dark eyes. Sadness. Betrayal. Bitterness. Bottomless hurt. But not surprise.

  “I see.” He didn’t pretend not to understand. “So you would give it all up. Everything we have, for the sake of a single girl whose life you can’t even save?”

  “Not just for her.” She lifted a hand to the ache in her heart. “Your mother came to see me last night. She said—”

  He cut her off. “Last night.”

  Shit. “It wasn’t like that—”

  “So you’d already decided to do this before you came to me. Before we made love.” Cold anger displaced all else in the black depths. “I waited for you, Alex. I was patient and understanding, I respected your need for time and space, and when you finally let me touch you it was because you felt sorry for me?”

  “I didn’t feel sorry for you—at least, not any more so than for myself.”

  “But you’d decided.”

  “I tried to tell you. I—” She stopped. He deserved truth, not excuses. “Love isn’t supposed to be like this, Seth. It’s not supposed to come with the responsibility for billions of lives tied into it. Last night—” Her voice broke, and she paused for a steadying breath. “Last night was about you and me, and having something to remember between us that wasn’t weighed down by choices and decisions and the future of an entire world.”

  Leaving the support of the door, she crossed over to him, putting her hand out to his arm. “I know this is difficult, but—”

  “Difficult?” Wheeling away, he stalked into the living room, smacking his open-palmed hand against the door frame on the way. “Difficult? Fucking Hell, Alex, you’re asking me to sacrifice everything I want, everything I am, for souls I will never know or care for. Souls that don’t have a chance of survival in the first place! That’s not just difficult, it’s pointless.”

  Everything I want? Everything I am? A shiver rippled down her spine. Was that really how he defined himself, by their relationship? She remained in the doorway, wariness holding her in place. He swung back to her, his face hidden in the shadows of the unlit room.

  “Tell me what she said.”

  She didn’t have to ask who he meant. “She said the angels can hold back the Fallen, but if Lucifer comes after humanity, she can’t stop him as long as she has to contain your powers. Keeping them in check is making her weak. She doesn’t know how much longer she can hold out.”

  “What else?”

  She hesitated. Should she tell him about the One’s plans to bind with Lucifer? To become other? She shook her head. The same caution that held her in place made her hold her tongue. “Isn’t that enough? Ea
rthquakes, volcanoes, flooding, tornadoes—your powers are ripping the planet apart at the seams. People are dying.”

  “They’re also deliberately killing each other—wars, shootings, bombings. Look at what happened to you today. My powers have nothing to do with any of that, and taking them back won’t make a bloody bit of difference.”

  “It will make a difference to the ones who aren’t like that. The ones who deserve a chance to fix things. To make things right.”

  “War between the angels and the Fallen is coming. There are eighty thousand Nephilim about to be born. You can’t fix those, Alex. And you sure as Hell can’t survive them.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  Two strides brought him towering over her. “I do know that,” he snarled. “And it’s about time the rest of you—my mother included—admit it. She’s been fighting a losing battle on your behalf for six millennia. She’s lost her helpmeet, a third of her angel host, her son—and now I’m supposed to sacrifice my own chance at happiness for the cause?”

  A frisson of uneasiness threaded through her. “I know you’re angry—”

  “Don’t tell me how I feel!”

  “—and hurt,” she continued, the cop in her striving to keep her voice level and not escalate the situation. “But try to understand—”

  “Understand what? That you choose mortals over me? Oh, believe me, you’ve made that crystal clear.”

  “It’s not that simple!” she exploded. “This isn’t about you and me, it’s about what’s right. I won’t give up on all of humanity—I can’t.”

  “And I won’t give up on us,” he growled.

  It took everything she had not to step away from him. Away from the cold that had reached out to wrap around her heart, brush against her soul. She shook her head. “There is no us. Not anymore. We’re done, Seth. We have to be.”

  Anger wrestled with something else on his face. Something uglier. She saw him shift, saw his hands curl into fists. Her already damaged heart faltered. He wouldn’t—