The Grigori Legacy: Sins Of The Lost Part 13

She lifted her chin at the coldness in his voice-coldness, and a derisive note that made her spine stiffen. "No. A very small minority do things like that. The rest of us try to stay calm and stop things from getting out of hand."

Seth studied the floor between them. "You really care about them, don't you? These mortals."

"Of course I care. I'm one of them."

"You know I don't understand why."

"Give it time. Get to know us better. We're not all like the ones who killed those women."

"I'm not interested in getting to know the others."

She snaked a hand through her hair. "I thought we got past this last night," she said tightly. "When you said you'd try. That you'd help."

"And you said you'd answer your phone if I called. The lies simply abound, don't they?"

Struggling with irritation fueled by fatigue, Alex made herself take a deep breath. "I wasn't lying, but you're right, I should have made it clear that it's not always possible to answer right away. I'm sorry."

"That's it?"

"What more do you want me to say? We've been over this a hundred times, Seth. I'm a cop. This is my job."

"Fine. Then tell me about that job. About your day. All of it."

Alex's heart skidded to a stop. Restarted with a thud that jolted through her.

He knew.

She crossed her arms over herself. Her voice quiet, unlike the blood hammering in her ears, she said, "Michael came to see you."

The muscle in his jaw went tight again. Fury and hurt glittered in equal measure in his black eyes. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't know how. With all that's happened, I was afraid you'd be angry. I didn't want another fight."

"I am angry, but my fight isn't with you. Unless . . ."

"Unless what?"

"Unless you agree with them."

"He's going to destroy your world."

"Do you?" Seth asked.

"No. No, of course not. But-" She slumped against the door, shaking her head at the surreality of their conversation. At the two of them, standing in their apartment hallway, calmly discussing the fate of her entire race. "Are they right? About the power you released destroying the world?"

"The war between my parents will destroy the world, Alex. Lucifer's hatred for humanity will destroy the world. It began with your creation, and it won't end until every last one of you is wiped from existence."

"Even if-?"

"Taking back my powers might end an imbalance, but nothing more. The Nephilim will still be born, still become an army, and still annihilate your race. And I will still lose you. Without having had the briefest of lives with you, I will watch you die and then spend eternity living with your memory and the knowledge that, under my mother's rules for the universe, I could do nothing to save you. Is that what you want for us?"

Her chin jerked up. "That's not fair. This isn't about what I want, Seth, it's about what's right."

"Is it?"

"Of course it-"

"I know he's back."

Her teeth snapped shut. After all that, Michael had told him about Aramael? Without at least warning her? Son of a b.i.t.c.h. "I was going to tell you."

"Of course you were. As soon as you told me about Mika'el."

She ignored the shot, rubbing a weary hand over her eyes. There was no easy way to do this. "He was waiting for me at the office this morning. He'll be working with me as my partner again."

"And you're okay with that." Seth delivered the words in a tone so cold that it turned the air between them frigid.

There was no easy way to do this, either.

"Luci-" The name caught in her throat. She rubbed false warmth into her arms and tried another approach. "I'm being watched. By one of the Fallen. Michael thinks I need protection."

"Your soulmate's protection."

"The Fallen One is an Archangel. Aramael is the only one-" She stopped. Telling him that Aramael was the only one who would lay down his life for her would not help matters.

But Seth had already filled in the blanks, his features going so still they might have been carved from marble. Hard, unyielding marble. "The only one who would die to protect you," he said. "Because that's how powerful a soulmate connection is. I should have known."

"It doesn't change anything, Seth. I made my choice. I love you, not him."

Silence stretched between them, a vast emptiness that widened with every tick of the utilitarian clock on the living room wall. Until, without speaking, Seth walked down the hallway to the bedroom and closed the door. The lock clicked into place with a snap that found an echo the length of her spine. She waited for long seconds and then, with a sigh rooted in her toes, headed for the kitchen and the bottle of ibuprofen. She'd give him time to cool off, get her headache under control, and- Her steps dragged to a halt. She stared at the dining room table, with its guttering candles and the hardened wax pooled at their bases. The cold, congealed food sitting on the plates. The bottle of wine, a corkscrew beside it. She forced her feet to carry her forward. With stiff, spare movements, she cleared Seth's dinner efforts, sc.r.a.ping the food into the kitchen garbage can, placing the tepid wine in the fridge, blowing out the candles, putting away the napkins and silverware.

When only the spilled wax remained on the table, she took down the bottle of Scotch from the cabinet beside the stove, collected a gla.s.s, and retreated to the living room for the night.

Chapter 30.

Alex's cell phone jolted her awake at four a.m. She swallowed the cotton that filled her mouth and answered on the fifth trill. "Jarvis."

"You sound about as enthusiastic as I feel," Joly observed. "Shall I make it worse?"

"If I say no, will it matter?"

"Some guy just shot up the emergency ward at the General. Three dead, fourteen injured, two critical. I'll see you there."

The line went dead. Alex set the phone on her stomach, crossed her arms beneath her head, and stared up at the shadow lines across the ceiling, cast there by the light of a streetlamp coming through the blinds. She listened to the quiet of the apartment. Had Seth heard the phone? Would he wake if she went into the bedroom for clean clothes? If he did, would the events of last night be forgotten, or would they carry over to this morning, poisoning her departure?

She turned her head to look at the Scotch bottle on the coffee table. Despite being down by half, it had done nothing to make sleep any easier. By her generous estimate, she was lucky if she'd managed an hour.

Long seconds dragged into minutes. The bedroom door remained closed, the apartment silent.

With a sigh, Alex pushed aside the blanket. She reached for the s.h.i.+rt she'd draped across the sofa back, slid her arms into it, and b.u.t.toned it. Ten minutes later, teeth brushed to remove the stale remains of alcohol and a brief note left on the table for Seth, she let herself out.

A biting November wind greeted her as she stepped out of the building. Tucking her chin into her scarf, she pulled on gloves and rounded the corner to the parking lot. Her step faltered. h.e.l.l. She'd hoped . . . but supposed she should have known better.

Straightening her shoulders, she joined Aramael beside her car.

"How did you know I'd be leaving?"

"I told you. I'm watching you."

Heat gathered at the nape of her neck as she thought of her night on the sofa. "Not-"

Something unnameable flickered in his gray eyes. "Not when you're with Seth, no."

Thank Heaven for small mercies.

"Where do you watch from?"

"When you're in the apartment? The roof."

"And you'd still know if . . . ?"

"If Samael came for you? Yes. Or any other Fallen One, for that matter. In any form. My capacity as an Archangel is different from when I was a Power."

As if to emphasize his words, the wind ruffled the black wings rising behind him, so much larger than the ones he'd once had.

Alex looked away. "And you're absolutely sure this Samael is after me."

"I've seen him. Standing across the street."

A chill slipped through her. She hadn't thought much about the idea before now. Apart from not wanting to, there had been plenty to keep her distracted from it: work, Seth, meeting Michael, Seth, the turmoil of seeing Aramael again . . . and always Seth. Now, however . . .

She looked down the street, taking in the parked cars, darkened storefronts, lampposts, an overturned garbage can, a homeless man huddled in a doorway. Imaginary shadows.

She pushed a b.u.t.ton on the key fob, and the sedan gave a chirp as its doors unlocked. "There's been a shooting," she said. "Same deal. I drive, you keep quiet."

"You can't ignore this forever, Alex."

"Watch me," she muttered, sliding into the car.

Seth leaned his forehead against the cold window gla.s.s, staring down into the street after the departing taillights. In the car, Alex and him-her soulmate. Behind him, once again, the apartment. Silent, empty, hollow. His hand closed over the note she'd left him, crumpling it. He let it fall to the floor.

d.a.m.n it to h.e.l.l and back, were they not to be allowed any peace? A mortal lifetime was already so short, and now-now the machinations of others threatened even that. Others who played with the future of the entire universe and all its occupants. Others who would drag him back into their game. Again.

And now they tried to use Alex herself against him. To make her doubt him. To make him doubt himself.

He scowled. Well, they'd be disappointed, because he wouldn't abandon her. Not now. Not ever. And certainly not for the sake of his mother's precious Earth. However long he might have with her, he intended to treasure every minute, every breath, every heartbeat.

He crossed to the dining room table and swept up the book the Fallen One had left in his grocery bag. The poison of its contents-its secrets-seeped through its very cover. How he wished he had never opened it. Never read the words now burned into his brain.

That I even consider such an act . . . I cannot find words to express the horror I feel at my treasonous thoughts. And yet, what choice do I have? She is my Creator. I, her helpmeet, the other half of the whole she once was. How she could allow these creatures to come between us is beyond comprehension. Beyond endurance. If this is what I must do to put things right again . . . so be it.

Seth shuddered. His father's words, filled with jealousy, hatred, and yes, the absolute and utter love that had driven him from the One's side. He'd grown up knowing the story behind Lucifer's departure, but seeing it written in the Light-bearer's own hand, his own words . . .

d.a.m.ned if he hadn't felt a flicker of compa.s.sion.

Maybe even one of understanding.

But no more. He strode into the kitchen and lifted the lid on the garbage can. Soft leather caressed his fingertips as the journal slid from his grasp. His parents' history had no bearing on him. No bearing on any of this. He wasn't part of them anymore. He was mortal, and the Fallen One was wrong. Alex was like him, and she did return his love. And he'd be d.a.m.ned if he'd let anyone take that away from him.

Letting the lid drop, he turned away. He had offered his help, and now he would live up to his word. He would find where the Nephilim babies were being taken. He would give Alex a reason to work with him as she did with the others. With- He stopped. Stared at the leather-covered book sitting on the table. At the carefully carved Roman numeral II on its spine. A resounding crash sounded behind him, and he whirled in time to see a half-rotten apple roll away from the garbage spilled across the floor. Vegetable sc.r.a.ps, empty packaging, the withered remains of the dinner he'd made for Alex the night before . . .

But no sign of the journal he had just placed there.

A black feather drifted through the air and settled on the floor beside his shoe.

Chapter 31.

Dropping her keys and coat on her desk, Alex headed for the coffee room, shooting a black look at Aramael when it seemed he might follow. He settled onto the desk's edge, arms folded across his chest and expression neutral. She strongly suspected he humored her, but she couldn't summon the energy to feel annoyed. After the fight with Seth, her ensuing date with the whiskey bottle, and then the call-out to the hospital scene, she had nothing left.

h.e.l.l, if she were truthful, she couldn't even react to the scene. Three bodies, a dozen sh.e.l.l-shocked medical staff, enough blood sprayed across chairs and floors and ceilings to have saved a dozen lives, and for all the response she'd felt, she might as well have been watching a movie. Bell would love to sink his teeth into that little detail.

The cell phone at her waist vibrated as she reached the coffee room door. She unclipped it, looked at the display, and sighed. Jen.

"Morning, sis."

"I'm surprised you answered," Jennifer replied. "I wasn't sure you'd be speaking to me."

Rolling her eyes, Alex drew a deep, calming breath. "Really, Jen? You think that little of me? We had a minor difference of opinion the other night, and you seriously think I'd be petty enough not to speak to you?"

Silence.