Sins of the Angels

by Linda Poitevin

  Because if Caim were to somehow get to her in spite of the precautions …

  He shook off the very graphic scenarios his recently formed imagination saw fit to provide. The muscles across his shoulders knotted, causing the feathers along his wings to ruffle. He stopped in an office building doorway. Focus, damn it. The only way you’ll keep her safe is to get to Caim before he gets to her, and you’re not going to do that by standing on a sidewalk whining about how hard it is. You know your purpose, Power. Now find it. Use it. End this game.

  With every ounce of self-control he possessed, he turned himself inward. Stilled his thoughts. Fought to rediscover what had once been so natural for him, what had been him. Waited for the tremor in his own energy that would signal Caim’s presence. Seconds edged by.

  Nothing.

  He straightened his spine and flexed his wings, and then tried again, straining to feel the slightest hint, the faintest vibration. Frustration twitched in his core, eating at his concentration and his confidence.

  What if he didn’t find him in time?

  What if—?

  Aramael slammed his fist against the wall beside him, shattering a brick in its mortar setting. One last effort. A desperate push past the limits he’d once thought he had—

  And still nothing. He couldn’t feel a damned thing.

  Except the woman who depended on him to make this right.

  To protect her.

  ALEX JOLTED AWAKE to the soft chiming of the mantel clock. Six chords, marking the start of a new day, confirmed by the sunlight streaming in through the living room window. The window beside which Seth still stood, still stared out. Alex straightened protesting knees from under her and struggled into a more comfortable position. Her gaze fell on the deserted couch and chair opposite.

  Before she’d had time to even process the fact that Jen and Nina were missing, let alone panic about it, Seth’s low rumble reached across the room to her. “They’re fine. They moved up to your room about three hours ago.”

  Alex stood up stiffly, catching the blanket as it fell from her lap. She stared at it. She was sure she hadn’t covered herself. She hadn’t even intended to fall asleep—she looked across at Seth. “Thank you.”

  He shrugged.

  “Has Aramael been back at all?” She laid the blanket across the chair arm.

  “Not yet.” He smiled a faint reassurance. “He’s a Power, Alex. Caim may have been his equal at one time, but not now. Not since he fell almost five thousand years ago.”

  “But what if he’s caught by surprise? He said himself he can’t feel Caim, said there are …”

  “Complications. Yes, I know, but trust me, Caim won’t be going after Aramael. He doesn’t have the courage to precipitate an all-out war.”

  “A what?”

  But Seth’s face had closed over as soon as the words left his mouth. “Nothing. Forget I said that.”

  Like hell she would. Alex moved to join him. “War between whom?”

  “I said forget it.”

  “I’m not very good at that, so you may as well just tell me now and save us both a lot of trouble.”

  “There are some things you really are better off not knowing, Alexandra Jarvis.”

  She frowned. “Why do you do that? Call me Alexandra Jarvis all the time?”

  Mild annoyance entered Seth’s expression. “You ask a lot of questions, don’t you?”

  “It’s my job to ask questions. And that’s not an answer.”

  He turned his head from her and stared through the window. “You’re not what I expected. As a mortal, I mean. I’m surprised at how engaging you are, and how much I find myself drawn to you. The formality of your full name reminds me to maintain distance.”

  Oh. Alex felt her cheeks heat at the unexpected and, in her experience, unprecedented honesty. The awkwardness of their shared touch on the sidewalk at the mission returned tenfold, and she shuffled her feet. “Um …”

  Seth slanted her a sideways look that was half amused and half way-too-serious for her taste. “Relax. I’m in no better position than Aramael to pursue a relationship with a mortal.”

  She pulled away from the wall. Now, there was a path she didn’t want to travel, she thought. Not from the perspective of Seth’s blatant declaration of interest, and sure as hell not from the perspective of any potential relationship with Aramael—or lack thereof.

  She shifted her posture, trying to ease the knifelike pain that had slid between her ribs and into her heart. Coffee. She’d make coffee, take some time to herself in the kitchen—

  A crash overhead reverberated through the living room. Alex froze for an instant and then met Seth’s startled look.

  “Nina,” she whispered. “Jen.”

  THIRTY-FOUR

  Alex, wait!”

  Alex took the stairs two at a time. Seth’s bellow—and his footsteps—followed. She yanked her gun free of the holster she’d scooped up from the coffee table and tossed the holster aside. Gaining the top, she skidded to a halt in front of Jen, emerging bleary-eyed but seemingly unscathed from the bathroom. “Are you all right?”

  Jen blinked at her, and then at Seth. “I’m fine. What’s going on?”

  “We heard a crash—”

  “Oh, that. I owe you a new soap dispenser.” Jen pulled a face. “I picked up the pieces, but there’s soap everywhere.”

  Alex sagged against the wall. It wasn’t Caim. Nothing mattered except that. She waved away her sister’s apology. “Don’t worry about it. I just thought—we thought—”

  Jen’s swallow was audible in the silence of Alex’s inability to finish the sentence. Then she forced a sad caricature of a smile. “Nope, just clumsy me. I’ll finish cleaning up. Excuse me.”

  She disappeared back into the bathroom and closed the door, and Seth’s hand instantly seized Alex’s shoulder, dragging her around to face him.

  “Never do that again,” he hissed, shaking her none too gently. “Not even I can protect you if you run right into Caim’s arms, and that”—he fixed an angry look on the gun in her hand—“is useless against him. Do you understand?”

  Alex’s heart skipped a beat. What did he mean, he couldn’t protect her? Seth gave her a little shake, as if he’d read her thoughts.

  “As long as he doesn’t get hold of you, I can put myself between you long enough for Aramael to return.”

  “And if he does get hold of me? Can you not stop him then?”

  Seth’s face turned grim. “Only a Power can remove him to Limbo. But …”

  Swallowing had never been so difficult. “But what?”

  “Alex, if Caim gets hold of you, Aramael could well lose control. He might not be able to stop himself from killing Caim, and if that happens …” His voice trailed off again and his fingers tightened on her shoulder. “If that happens, it will break the peace between Heaven and Hell.”

  She shivered and moistened dry lips. “That’s the war you mentioned?”

  “Mortals call it the Apocalypse.”

  Alex stared into the black, bottomless eyes and felt something deep inside her turn utterly still as Seth’s words settled into her core. The Apocalypse. An angel’s soul had become entangled with hers and he had sworn to protect her against all odds, against all rules, and if she allowed him to do so, the world would face the end of days? She shook her head in silent, sick denial and Seth’s hand on her arm gave a gentle squeeze in response.

  “We won’t let it get that far,” he said. “I promise.”

  Jen came out of the bathroom again, wiping her hands against the seat of her jeans. “I got the worst of it, but watch your step if you go in there. It’s still a bit slippery.” Her gaze darted between them. “Am I interrupting something?”

  Alex felt Seth’s hand slide away. She looked away from her sister’s too-perceptive stare and, with the automatic movements of the robot she felt she’d become, tucked the gun into the waistband in the small of her back. Dredged up the ability to speak again, to
pretend the rest of her reality hadn’t just shattered at her feet.

  “No,” she answered Jen. “You’re not interrupting. I’m going to make coffee. You interested?”

  “Lord, yes. I’m just going to grab a shower first. I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

  Alex hesitated. She eyed a still seething Seth, who had just so forcefully underscored her sense of vulnerability. Seeming to understand her thoughts, he gave a slight shake of his head. She turned back to her sister. “Actually, Jen, I think we should stay together.”

  “But we are together.”

  “In the same room together.”

  “Isn’t that just a little paranoid? We’ll hear if anyone tries to get into the house—”

  “It’s not paranoia.” Alex suppressed a surge of impatience, reminding herself that Jen hadn’t seen what she’d seen. Knew only a fraction of what she knew.

  If I were to destroy in her name it would alter the balance of the universe in ways I don’t think any of us would care to explore.

  “That might be too late,” she told her sister. “We stay together. We’ll bring Nina back downstairs with us.”

  Jen looked as if she might object further, but then she sighed. “Fine. Can I at least have a clean T-shirt first?”

  “Third drawer in the dresser.”

  Alex waited until her sister stepped into the bedroom and closed the door again, and then she faced Seth. Chewing at the inside of her bottom lip, she reached back to adjust the gun resting against her spine. “Do you really think he’ll try anything? He must know you’re here.”

  “I’m sure he knows. But that doesn’t mean he cares.”

  “He’s that desperate?”

  “Yes. And that determined.”

  The murmur of Jen’s voice came from the bedroom. Good. She was waking Nina, which would make it easier to move her. Downstairs, the mantel clock chimed quarter past the hour. Fifteen minutes since Alex had woken up; four hours since Aramael had left her in the kitchen. How much longer—?

  “I’ll go help Jennifer,” she said.

  Leaving Seth leaning against the wall, hands in pockets and ankles crossed, Alex pushed open the bedroom door. Jen looked around at her entrance, T-shirt in hand.

  “You should have told me your friend was back. Surely with all of us here it’s safe for me to take that shower.”

  Alex paused in the doorway, hand resting on the knob, eyes adjusting to the semigloom created by the drawn blinds at the windows. “What?”

  “Your friend.” Jen nodded toward the bed. “He says he’ll watch Nina for me.”

  Splinters of ice shot through Alex’s heart.

  No.

  She tried to swallow, but too great a lump sat in the way.

  Dear God, no.

  For what felt like an eternity, she stood, unable to look in the direction Jen indicated. Unable to move. Unable to think. Incapable of reacting. At last her hand crept toward the light switch beside the door and flicked it upward. She blinked against the brightness and then, finally, looked at the bed where Nina still slept, her body a lump under the covers, identifiable only by her long, dark hair splayed across the pillow. Her gaze shifted a fraction to the right, to him.

  Caim.

  Lounging beside her niece, torso propped against the headboard, feet stretched out comfortably, hands tucked behind his head. Looking every inch like he belonged there. Looking so much like Aramael that Alex hesitated. Doubted.

  Until he smiled.

  Until his eyes turned from gray to obsidian, and he reached out a hand to stroke Nina’s hair, and Alex saw the ragged, bloody place where a fingernail had been ripped from its bed. In the space of a single, ponderous heartbeat, a dozen thoughts flashed through her mind. A dozen certainties.

  Aramael’s hand, stretched out to touch her face only a short time ago, had been marred by no such blemish.

  A claw, the only physical evidence they’d found at any of the scenes, still lacked identification.

  A claw, broken from the hand of a demon, might leave behind a mark such as this.

  And if any doubt remained, there, tucked behind him, were his wings. Unkempt, yellowed, and lacking in any of the glory of Aramael’s—but wings nonetheless.

  Horror replaced Alex’s doubt. Turned to terror. Became a cop’s instinctive bid to protect the vulnerable—and to survive. With fingers numbed by fear, she pulled the gun from behind her back and trained it on Caim’s chest. She had no misconceptions that a bullet would stop him, but maybe she could slow him down enough to get Nina and Jen to safety—

  Caim laughed. A loud, genuinely amused laugh. “Seriously?” he asked. “Haven’t you learned anything about us yet? Or are you really as stupid as the rest of them?”

  The gun wavered in Alex’s hand. She gritted her teeth and steadied it through sheer force of will. Demon or no demon, he was still scum. “Get the fuck away from my niece, you son of a bitch!”

  “Son of a bitch? Me?” Caim chuckled again, letting a lock of Nina’s hair slide through his fingers. “You have it wrong, Naphil. I’m just a lowly Fallen Angel. Now, he, on the other hand”—he jutted his chin in her direction—“he truly does qualify for the title.”

  Seth’s hand closed over the gun in Alex’s hand and pushed it down to her side. “Get behind me,” he ordered. “Now.”

  “Listen and she dies, Naphil.” Caim’s hand snaked out and lifted Nina, limp as a rag doll, upright by her hair. All trace of amusement had disappeared and his eyes glittered with a cold, bright light.

  Seth raised his left hand, palm toward the bed, and Alex’s skin prickled under the energy building around him. Caim pulled back Nina’s head to expose her throat and curved his other hand across the pale skin there.

  “What if you’re not fast enough, Appointed? Or strong enough? What if you can’t hold me until the Power arrives and the girl dies and I was right all along?”

  The fingers of Seth’s extended hand flexed wide.

  Jen fell to her knees on the carpet, her shriek turning from shrill to muffled as she slapped a hand over her own mouth. Alex launched herself at Seth’s arm.

  “Seth, no!”

  “Listen to her, Seth.” A single nail on Caim’s hand had grown and turned black and polished and curved. It pierced the fragile skin of Nina’s throat, drawing a tiny trickle of blood. Malevolent black eyes held Alex’s without wavering. “You know, don’t you, Naphil? You know there’s no way out of this, that someone will give up their life to me today.”

  Alex felt Seth’s arm contract under her hold. She gripped tighter. Nodded. “I know.”

  “Then it’s all about choices, isn’t it? Her”—Caim looked down at Nina with an almost tender adulation, and then lifted his gaze to Alex again—“or you. Free will’s a bitch, isn’t it?”

  Alex stared at him for a long moment, searching for any hint of uncertainty. Found only a cornered animal made unpredictable by desperation. Caim might want Aramael’s defeat more than his own return to Heaven, but with every passing second, they risked him changing his mind and deciding to go with the sure thing he already held in his hands.

  Which would open the door to a hundred thousand others like him, each seeking his or her own Naphil fast track to Heaven. A hundred thousand serial killers, give or take, unleashed on Earth.

  She turned to Seth. “If you try anything, she’ll be dead before you blink,” she whispered. “You know that.”

  “And if I leave you with him,” he growled, “we risk Aramael’s return. You know that.”

  “Not if you find another Power to stop him.”

  “Another Power will go right through you, Alex. Without hesitation.”

  “I know.”

  She waited for Seth to sift through to the truth she had already reached. Watched comprehension turn to denial in his gaze, then darken to bleak acceptance.

  “Caim is powerful,” he said quietly. “He can make you call out to Aramael, to summon him. What if I can’t move fast enough?�
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  Alex steeled herself not to flinch. “We have to try. There’s no other choice. Get Jen and Nina out of the house and then go,” she said. “I’ll hold out as long as I can.”

  She pulled her sister up from the floor and shoved her toward the door, away from the chance of an embrace she wasn’t sure she could end. “Go,” she said. “Seth will bring Nina.”

  Beyond argument, Jen stumbled through the doorway, her expression dazed. Shell-shocked.

  Alex met Seth’s grave gaze one last time and then turned to face Caim.

  “Me,” she said. “You can have me.”

  THIRTY-FIVE

  Caim moved faster than Alex could blink, depositing Nina in a heap on the floor at Seth’s feet and grasping Alex by the throat so tightly that the very air itself scraped her windpipe. Dragging her away from the others, he shoved her against the wall, ragged wings outspread behind him. Then he looked over his shoulder at Seth and lifted his chin in defiance. “Do what you’re thinking of doing and she dies before you can draw breath. Now leave us.”

  Alex met Seth’s helpless fury and fought down the wave of panic that threatened to swamp her, to make her change her mind and beg for help. This was the only way, she reminded herself. All they could do now was prevent Aramael from triggering the unthinkable.

  “Go,” she croaked. “Don’t let him win.”

  Not until she heard the front door close and the car start did Alex breathe easily again. Or as easily as she could with Caim’s fingers digging into her throat. She tried to pull back from his grip a little, but stopped when his nails pressed harder.

  His nails—or his claws?

  His face swam into focus through tears of pain.

  “Now, Naphil, before Seth is able to put your little plan into motion—” He paused at her involuntary start. “What, you didn’t think I could hear you?”