Sins of the Lost gl-3

by Linda Poitevin

  “I hope she’s worth it.”

  He looked sideways at his elevator companion. “Excuse me?”

  A bland, golden gaze met his, then dropped to the grocery bag he clutched. “Whoever that’s for. I hope she’s worth the effort.”

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but yes. She is.” He went back to watching the light flicker. The elevator lurched past another floor.

  “Because too many of them come with all kinds of baggage,” the stranger continued. “Expectations. As if we could ever care about the things they do.”

  Seth’s breath stilled. We? Carefully, without moving his head, he slanted another glance at his companion. At the gleam of light reflected on his dark, burnished face, the puckered scar at the corner of one eye . . . and, for just an instant, the hint of wing-shaped shadows behind him. Seth scowled.

  “I told Mika’el—”

  “I’m not with Mika’el.” The other man leaned back against the elevator wall. “Just as you’re not with them.”

  Not with Mika’el? If he wasn’t with the Archangel, then he was—

  His uninvited companion smiled. Cold trickled through Seth’s gut.

  A Fallen One. Bloody Hell, he was trapped in an elevator with one of his father’s minions.

  In the time it took to inhale, his awareness of his lack of power skyrocketed from a dull, ill-defined ache to an acute sense of loss. He shifted his stance, standing tall and facing the Fallen One head-on. He curled his free hand into a fist. With or without powers, he wouldn’t go down without a fight.

  “I’m exactly where I choose to be,” he told the intruder.

  “Are you?” the Fallen One asked, nodding at the groceries. “You, the son of Lucifer and the Creator herself, this is where you choose to be?”

  “I gave that up,” Seth said through his teeth.

  “And you can choose to have it back again.”

  The paper of the grocery bag crackled as Seth’s grip went tight. His companion raised an eyebrow.

  “You look surprised. You didn’t know? Oh, my. How very awkward. I was so sure she’d have told you.”

  The cold solidified. Turned heavy. Don’t. Don’t ask. You don’t want to know. It doesn’t matter . . .

  But it did matter. Seth’s heart twisted. It mattered a great deal.

  “Who?” he asked. “Who would have told me?”

  The Fallen One eyed him pityingly. “You have to ask?”

  No. No, he didn’t because she had started to tell him last night.

  “You wanted to tell me something.”

  She had started, and then she had changed her mind.

  “It can wait.”

  She had chosen instead to hide it from him.

  “It wasn’t important.”

  To lie to him.

  Seth shifted his grip on the grocery bag.

  “What didn’t she tell me?”

  The Fallen One shrugged. “What I just said. You can have it back. The power, the immortality, all of it. It’s all still yours.”

  The carton of milk in the bag gave way with a little pop beneath Seth’s grip. Cold liquid bathed his hand and dripped onto his shoe. “I don’t believe you.”

  “Yes, you do.” The Fallen One straightened up from the elevator wall as the doors slid open onto the eighth floor’s empty hallway. “You can feel it. You know you can. Right where you left it, waiting for you to reclaim it as your own.”

  “You’re wrong. You can’t know—”

  Seth found himself pinned against the wall before he registered that the other had moved. Fingers like steel clamped around his throat, lifting him until his toes barely grazed the floor.

  “I do know,” his father’s henchman hissed. “Just as your Naphil knows. The Archangel Mika’el himself told her when he came to her asking for her help. Her soulmate has been returned to her, to ensure that she persuades you. The only one who’s still in the dark about this is you. You might want to ask your Naphil why that is.” His grip tightened another fraction. “She’s not like you, Appointed. She is mortal. She cannot love you the way you do her, the way your father loves the One. Already she puts her own kind ahead of her feelings for you. Already she keeps secrets.”

  The Fallen One shook him and then, as suddenly as he’d attacked, released his grip. Seth dropped to one knee, gasping. His visitor stepped into the corridor.

  “Look around you, Seth, son of Lucifer. See where you are, what you’ve become. What you’ve chosen to become.”

  Only when the doors began to slide shut did Seth rise to his feet. He jammed his foot into the opening, gathered the scattered groceries, and, clutching the sodden bag, followed in the Fallen One’s wake. The corridor empty before him. His visitor’s words echoed in his skull. Tangled in his chest.

  “Her soulmate has been returned to her.”

  Her soulmate. Aramael. Returned.

  Seth’s gaze dropped to the groceries in his arms and, nestled among them, a plain, leather-bound book with the number one engraved on its spine.

  Chapter 25

  “Anything?”

  Alex looked up from her notebook as she joined Aramael on the sidewalk. “Do you care?”

  His mouth thinned. “It would go faster if you’d let me help.”

  “No.”

  “Alex—”

  “We’ve been over this. Twice. You’re not a cop.”

  “No, I’m a bloody Archangel,” he snapped. “I think I can handle asking a few questions.”

  Archangel? Her gaze flicked to the massive black wings half unfolded behind him. Michael’s wings had been black, too, and so had the other Archangels’. That must be what differentiated the choirs, the color of their wings. So. Aramael had not only been welcomed back into Heaven for his part in Seth’s attempted assassination, he’d been promoted, too. Wasn’t that just ducky.

  She returned her attention to her notes. “I don’t care. You’re not trained, you might miss something, and the answer is still no. Feel free to leave if that’s a problem.”

  “Is this how it’s going to be between us?” he asked quietly.

  Scowling, she ignored the jab of pain beneath her ribs. “There is no us. There’s me, and there’s you following me.” She stepped around him, coming up short as he moved to block her. “You’re in my way.”

  “I didn’t ask for this.”

  “Neither did I.”

  The sigh stirred her hair. “I know. And for what it’s worth, I wish it could be otherwise.”

  “It can. Leave.”

  He shook his head. “You’re too important.”

  Her brain shied from all that stood behind the statement. “Fine. Then let someone else protect me.”

  “I can’t do that, either.”

  “You’re hardly the only angel in Heaven.”

  “None of the others would protect you as I can.”

  “Michael—”

  “Mika’el is the one who assigned me to you. He knows the strength of my connection to you. Knows I would risk everything to keep you safe.”

  The pain beneath her ribs sharpened, taking away her breath. She clutched the notebook and pen tighter, felt their edges imprinted on her fingers.

  “Don’t,” she snarled. “Don’t you dare go there. You made your choice when you went after Seth, Aramael, and I made mine when I saved him. We’re done.”

  “You know that isn’t true.”

  “I. Made. My. Choice.” She crossed her arms, settling into outright belligerence. “We’re done.”

  “We’re soulmated, Alex. We can never be done.”

  Even if she could have found her voice, she had no words. No argument. No rebuttal for the truth her soul recognized even as her mind rejected it. Sudden, infinite weariness pressed down on her. He was right. No matter how much she wanted it otherwise, no matter how certain she might have been—was—in her choice of Seth, Aramael was still right. The bond between them would never go away. She could love another with all her heart—and
she did—and still she would feel that tie. That unbreakable connection.

  Footsteps sounded along the sidewalk, slowing as they neared. Gritting her teeth, Alex gathered up the few scraps of coherence she still possessed and made herself look away from Aramael’s stormy gray gaze . . . right into the hard emerald one belonging to Michael.

  “We need to talk,” he said.

  Chapter 26

  Michael.

  Shock ricocheted through Alex’s body. Flat-out antagonism followed. Before she could do more than open her mouth, however, Michael cut her off, directing a pointed look at Aramael.

  “Leave us,” he ordered.

  The storm brewing in Aramael’s expression seethed with a new level of turbulence, and for a moment, Alex thought he might refuse. Then he stalked across the street to the car and leaned against the front fender, hands shoved into his pockets. His wings, half unfurled, twitched with an irritation echoing her own.

  She scowled at the Archangel towering over her. “Are you always this overbearing?”

  He ignored her. “Have you reconsidered my request?”

  “No. I told you—”

  “Fine. I will speak to Seth. But not about this.” He jerked his chin toward Aramael. “And I don’t want you to mention it, either.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “If Seth knows Aramael has returned, it will skew his judgment. I need him to consider my request with a clear head, not one filled by unnecessary emotion.”

  “First of all, you don’t get to tell me what to do. And second, I don’t keep secrets from the man I love.” Her emphasis on man was deliberate, a reminder to Michael of Seth’s mortality, the choice he had already made. It went unnoticed.

  “Have you told him about me?”

  “Not yet, but—”

  “Then you do keep secrets.”

  “I haven’t had the chance to tell him,” she growled.

  “The chance or the courage?”

  Alex bit back a go to hell. No matter how much she detested him and his high-handedness, he was still an Archangel. And he was right.

  “Both,” she said with quiet dignity. “I’m not going to pretend it will be an easy conversation, Michael. Not after what he’s been through. But while I might not be looking forward to it, I will do it. And I will make it clear to him—just as I am to you right now—that I am and always will be on his side. That means no secrets. Not about you, and not about Aramael.”

  She drew herself up. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

  Michael’s hand caught her arm as she turned away.

  “He’s will destroy your world, Naphil.”

  His words made her hesitate, but only for a single heartbeat. Whatever he meant, it didn’t matter. Seth had saved her life, had chosen her over himself. She would not—could not—betray his trust. Not for a Heaven that had already betrayed hers. She pulled away from his hold.

  “Before or after Lucifer does?” she asked.

  Leaving Michael on the sidewalk, she crossed the street to join Aramael by the car. She opened the door and leaned in to rummage through the glove compartment for a spare notebook and pen. She slammed the door shut and rested the notebook on the sedan’s roof. Aramael glanced between her and Michael as she jotted down a series of questions.

  “May I ask what that was about?”

  “No.” She slapped the notebook against his chest, holding it there until he raised a hand to take it. “The questions you need to ask are on the first page. Make sure you note the address of everyone you speak to, and keep a list of the houses where no one is home.”

  “I thought you didn’t want my help.”

  “I changed my mind.” She looked across the street to Michael. Met, without flinching, the hard green eyes. Knew he monitored her words. She turned her back on him.

  “I want to finish this canvass,” she told Aramael, her voice clear and steady, “and then I want to go home. I have things I need to tell Seth.”

  Chapter 27

  As much as Alex tried to tell herself otherwise, the conversation with Michael had rattled her. Deeply. By the time she finished with the last house backing onto the park, she was footsore, frustrated, and had never been more ready to pack in a canvass. She’d also been unable to stop the Archangel’s parting words from replaying in her head with every single step she’d taken.

  “He will destroy your world,” he’d said—and still she’d walked away. She’d failed to demand an explanation because she’d let her own feelings get in the way. Across the street, Aramael descended from a porch and walked toward her. Her gut twisted into the special knot reserved for him. She scowled. She knew better—was better—than that. And if she was going to get the answers she needed to save even a portion of humanity, this knee-jerk reaction to all things angelic had to stop. Now.

  Stepping onto the sidewalk, Aramael handed the notebook to her. She flipped it open. His notes filled the pages in an impatient scrawl. Legible, but only just. She scanned them. At least he appeared to have asked all the questions and kept a list of addresses they’d need to return to.

  “What now?” he asked.

  “We write up the file in the office, and then we—I—go home.”

  “To tell Seth about me.”

  “And Michael. Yes.”

  “You really care enough about him to risk your own world.”

  Again with the world thing. She closed the notebook Aramael had given her and slid it into her pocket along with her own. “Explain.”

  “If he doesn’t take back his powers, the imbalance he caused could destroy the entire—” Aramael stopped. “You didn’t know.”

  She shook her head, partly in answer, partly in denial. Tiny crystals of ice formed in her veins, invaded her heart. “There must be some mistake.”

  Aramael’s gaze held hers, the same flat gray as Lake Ontario on a sullen day. “You’ve seen the news. The increase in earthquakes and storms—”

  “That’s Seth?”

  “The energy he released in giving up his powers.”

  No. There had to be a mistake. They had to be wrong. Alex realized her head continued to move from side to side. Through sheer force of will, she held it still and made herself face Aramael’s words. Their truth.

  “That’s what Michael wanted to tell me.”

  “It’s why he came to you for help, yes.”

  Dear God . . .

  The cell phone at her waist vibrated. Fingers shaking, she fumbled it from its clip.

  “Jarvis.”

  Even to her own ears, her voice sounded strangled. It was no wonder Henderson picked up on it instantly.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  Her throat closed. Everything, she wanted to say. Everything in my whole goddamn world is wrong.

  But she couldn’t. Couldn’t tell him. Not about this. Not before she’d talked to Seth and sorted out her own head. Not before she figured out what she was going to do. She cleared her throat.

  “Just a case I caught this morning. Two pregnant women, stoned to death.”

  “I saw something about that on the news. You okay?”

  “Fine.”

  “Of course.” His voice was dry. “How could I think otherwise?”

  Alex bit back an invitation for him to piss off and sought instead for words to distract him. Normal words that didn’t reflect the agony that had taken up residence in her very soul. “Anything exciting at your end?”

  “A whole lot of overtime. The demand for DNA testing is through the roof. Every pregnant woman in the city wants a test, regardless of how far along she is, and we’ve had multiple threats against labs that have refused. Some of them have hired armed guards to protect their staff, so we’ve had to step up patrols to keep tabs on things. Half our detectives are back in uniform to meet the demand. You can imagine how busy that makes the rest of us.”

  “And Father Marcus?”

  “Not a word. I think we can count on the Church to keep him and
the scrolls under pretty tight wraps until they figure out what to do with their information. Worst case scenario, they go to governments with it—they’re not interested in creating a worldwide panic.”

  Which is exactly what would happen if the general public learned of the scrolls’ existence. And their content. Alex held back a shudder at the thought of the world’s reaction to knowing the reality of Heaven and Hell.

  “I hope you’re right. I just wish we could have confirmation on that.”

  “Hey, as long as it stays off the Internet and out of the hands of the nutcases, I’m happy. Which reminds me, I’ve had a look at the list of what the tech guys are monitoring for. It’s pretty focused on end of the world and wrath of God stuff. I think we need to expand it to include”—his voice dropped to a murmur—“you know, the other.”

  “You mean angels?”

  “And their offspring.”

  “You want to put the Nephilim on a list of watch words? You’re a brave man. Have you decided how you’ll explain where you came up with the idea?”

  “I was hoping you might take care of that at your end. Your boss is a little more . . . tolerant of these ideas than mine.”

  “I’ll talk to him.”

  “So how’s the other stuff going? Any give from your other half with regard to helping us out?”

  Alex’s grip on the phone tightened until pain radiated from her knuckles through her wrist. “Some. He’s looking into the babies that are disappearing. Trying to find out where they’re being taken.”

  “The ones that haven’t been taken by various governments, you mean.” Henderson grunted. “It’s about bloody time he came around. Those superpowers of his would come in handy right now, wouldn’t they?”

  She choked on her inhale. “I should go. I’m still canvassing the neighborhood, and I’d like to finish before midnight.”

  Silence. Then, suspiciously, “What aren’t you telling me, Jarvis?”