The Grigori Legacy: Sins Of The Lost Part 19

"How?" she asked simply.

"One of the Fallen. Not by request."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

His gaze didn't move from hers. Didn't so much as flicker. Yet she knew without a shadow of doubt that he lied to her. Deliberately. Her throat contracted. She looked away. She ran a trembling hand through her hair. Tomorrow. Tomorrow they would sit down and figure things out. Look at their options. Make some decisions. Tomorrow, but not tonight.

Tonight-she closed the s.p.a.ce between them, sliding her arms around his waist and resting her head against his chest-tonight they just needed to go home. Seth hesitated for half a heartbeat, and then folded her close. Held her fiercely.

"I'm glad you're okay," he whispered into her hair. "And I'm so sorry I couldn't stop him."

They stood that way until Alex extricated herself and wove her fingers through his. Together, they left the hospital.

Aramael didn't suggest that he go with them.

Chapter 42.

Alex slid her gun's lockbox back onto the closet shelf and, with the same care that had guided all her movements since she'd left the bed, quietly closed the door. Just her coat to put on now and she could leave, be gone before- "Stay."

She jumped. Closed her eyes. Gathered herself. Then she reached for the coat she'd laid across the hall table. "You know I can't," she told Seth.

"I know you choose not to." His voice was flat. "I heard your supervisor tell you not to come in today."

She shrugged into the gray wool coat. "I have work to do."

"With your soulmate."

"d.a.m.n it, Seth, can we please get past this ridiculous jealousy? For the last time, I chose you, remember?" The cell phone at her waist vibrated. She glanced down, saw Jen's name on the display, and hit Ignore. One fight at a time was enough.

b.u.t.toning her coat, she scowled at Seth. "Look, I'm sorry I need protection from a Fallen One I've never even met, and I'm sorry Aramael is the one who has to protect me. h.e.l.l, I'm sorry any of this is happening. Armageddon, your mother, the Nephilim-I'm sorry about it all. But I can't change it and I can't make it go away, and sooner or later we're just going to have to deal with it. You are going to have to deal with it."

"The way you're dealing with it?" he snapped, his expression turning as dark as his eyes. "You spend your days with the one being I know you still have feelings for, and even when you're with me we're not a real couple. Every time I touch you, you pull back. I know here"-he tapped his head for emphasis-"that it's because of Lucifer. But here?" His hand dropped to cover his heart. "Here, I know how strong the connection between you and Aramael is, and yes, I doubt. I chose you, too, Alex. But I sure as h.e.l.l didn't choose all of this."

Hot tears spilled over onto her cheeks, burning the tiny cuts inflicted by Aramael's wings the day before. She dashed them away with one hand and reached for the doork.n.o.b with the other.

"Neither did I," she told him.

Samael sprawled on the park bench beside Mittron, arms extended along the back, legs outstretched across the sidewalk so that pedestrians had to go around him. He sent a sidelong glance at the Seraph, who sat with hands wrapped around a Styrofoam cup of coffee. Eyes closed, Mittron inhaled deeply. He brought the mug to his lips and sipped at the scalding liquid. The tremble in his hands was half what it had been scant minutes before.

Mittron looked over. "Whatever you gave me, it's good."

"You expected otherwise?"

"I haven't been thinking clearly enough to expect much of anything lately. This makes a nice change." Mittron took another sip of coffee. "So. You want to take over h.e.l.l, do you?"

"I'd like there to be a h.e.l.l when all this"-Samael waggled the fingers of one hand-"is over."

"I don't understand."

"Lucifer isn't what he used to be, Seraph. The idea of wiping mortals from the planet consumes him to the exclusion of all else, including the survival of his followers."

"And this has changed how?" Mittron asked dryly.

Samael grunted. "Maybe you're right. Now that he's this close to achieving his goal, however, I'd rather like to know I'll survive."

"He's close? How close?"

In a few clipped words, Samael brought Heaven's former executive administrator up to date on what had happened in his drug-induced absence: Seth's choice of the Naphil, the Nephilim army waiting to be born, Lucifer's obsession with fathering a child to lead that army-and his complete lack of interest in whether any of them, including himself, survived the war yet to come.

Mittron was silent when he finished. Then, "Former Archangel or not, the Fallen will never follow you. You're not strong enough."

"Not me. Seth."

"Seth! But you just said-"

"I said he gave up his powers. I didn't say he couldn't get them back."

"And why would he want to do that? He gave up everything to get rid of them, and he didn't make the decision lightly. He's right where he wanted to be. He has the woman."

"Not if I can convince him otherwise." Samael withdrew the next of Lucifer's journals destined for Seth's hands and laid it on the bench between them. Mittron's eyebrows went up.

"That's your plan? You're going to convince him with a book to take back his powers and overthrow Lucifer?"

Samael grinned at an elderly woman forced to maneuver her walker onto the rough gra.s.s to get around his feet. "Hasn't anyone ever told you not to judge a book by its cover?"

Mittron set down the coffee and picked up the leather-bound volume. He flipped through a half dozen pages, then looked up at Samael. "Lucifer's journal?"

"One of a thousand and eleven at last count. Six millennia of history as seen through the eyes of the Light-bearer himself. A rather ugly read, if you ask me."

"I still don't see-"

"A son should have the opportunity to know his father, don't you think? Especially when they have so much in common, such as an obsession with the females in their lives. Females who insist on choosing the good of an entire race over the ones who wors.h.i.+p them."

Speculation narrowed Mittron's eyes. "You think you can turn Seth from the woman? After he gave up all that he did for her?"

"I know I can."

Mittron closed the journal. "Even if you succeed, we're talking about Lucifer. There's no guarantee Seth will be strong enough to take him on-with or without an army. Or that h.e.l.l will survive if he does."

"Perhaps not. But I can guarantee neither it nor we will survive if we don't at least try."

"So you're choosing between the lesser of two evils and you want me to join you?"

"Unless our fearless leader has a sudden change of heart-and I wouldn't hold my breath on that-yes. That's exactly what want." Samael raised an eyebrow. "So what will it be, Seraph? Take a chance on my plan, or return to your Judgment?"

Mittron took a swig of coffee, staring out across the little park.

"Tell me what you need."

Aramael frowned as Alex joined him beside her sedan. "Are you-?"

"Don't." Her throat aching, Alex brushed past him and went around to the driver's side. Seth's gaze bored into her back from his vantage point in the apartment window, but she refused to turn. She didn't trust herself not to break down if she did. "Just get in."

"Alex, if there's-"

She rested a gloved hand on the car roof, holding on for dear life to the door handle with her other. Steeling herself, she looked across the car into Aramael's concern. His caring. Her knees trembled and she locked them so they couldn't fold beneath her.

"Can you leave?" she demanded.

Can you go away forever and take all of this with you? The pain of having known you, the agony of still doing so, the heartache that you're inflicting on the man I'm trying so hard to love? Can you please-please-break this connection between us before it destroys me?

Aramael shook his head slowly, sadly, responding to all her questions, spoken and unspoken. "You know I can't."

Her breath slid down her throat like a thousand shards of gla.s.s. She wrenched open the car door. "Then no, Aramael. There's nothing you can do. So get in, shut up, and leave me the h.e.l.l alone."

Chapter 43.

Alex gathered up the scattering of messages. Two from the Internet techs looking to clarify the list Roberts had given them; one from Riley, giving her an office location in case she wanted to stop by-at least doing so was a suggestion now and not an order; and one from Roberts ordering her to his office.

She eyed the coffee room longingly, and then, suppressing a sigh, shed her coat and scarf and dropped them onto her chair.

Roberts's door stood open. She tapped on the door frame. "You wanted to see me?"

His back to her as he stared out the window, her supervisor waved her in. She took a seat and frowned. Hadn't Roberts been wearing that same suit yesterday? Had something else come up after they'd sent her and Seth home from the hospital?

She opened her mouth to ask. He spoke first.

"There's a press conference in Ottawa tomorrow afternoon." Roberts let the blinds fall back into place with a metallic clatter. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he turned and leaned back against the window ledge. "The federal health minister is announcing a country-wide implementation of the same measures we used here for the SARS scare in 2003."

"SARS! But we quarantined-" Alex broke off. "You've got to be kidding me. They want to quarantine pregnant women? That's their answer to this?"

"No. That's their attempt to contain things, at least for a while. It will apply only to women in their first trimester. Beyond that, there doesn't seem to be much danger. World Health is recommending the measures be taken globally as a precaution while they work to isolate the virus." Roberts held up a hand to ward off her pending outburst. "Our hospital incident night before last wasn't an isolated one, Alex. Demonstrations are springing up at clinics across the globe and ten more women-that we know of-have died giving birth to those babies. People need to believe we have a handle on this thing, or we're going to lose any chance at control."

"Quarantining pregnant women and handing out surgical masks does not const.i.tute a handle on things."

"I know that, Detective. WHO knows it. We all know it, but what would you suggest we do? China has already imposed martial law because of the demonstrations there, and d.a.m.ned if I'm not half in agreement with them. People are scared. If these measures give people any peace at all, every member of this force will help to enforce them, including you. Do I make myself clear?"

She held his glare for a second and then subsided. "Of course. You're right. We need to keep people calm."

"Good, because we don't have time for disciplinary c.r.a.p. You've been called to Ottawa."

"I-what? But why?"

"They didn't say. I got a call from CSIS half an hour after I sent your list to the techs. They want to see you tomorrow morning at ten. My guess is that someone started connecting the dots and discovered you're part of the picture." Roberts grimaced. "I shouldn't have mentioned your name in that memo to tech. I didn't stop to think."

CSIS-the Canadian Security Intelligence Service. With the number of connections she had to events-from Caim's killing spree in Toronto to the mess in Vancouver-it was inevitable that someone would flag her as a person of interest. She should have expected as much.

Alex shook her head. "It's okay, Staff. Really. I haven't exactly kept a low profile. Someone was bound to put it together eventually. Do you know how long I'm there for?"

"Just one night. Trent will go with you."

"Trent?" The name escaped before she could stop it.

"After yesterday?" His brows rose. "Not up for debate."

s.h.i.+t. Overnight in Ottawa with Aramael after that row she'd had with Seth this morning?. She ma.s.saged at the ache forming behind her temple. h.e.l.l, maybe she'd skip coffee and just find a bar somewhere instead.

"Is that everything?"

"Just one more thing. I've been looking into the DNA reports you mentioned. The ones for the babies. They've been sealed. So has the one for the claw we found. All I could get out of anyone is what they've already released to the media and a promise to keep us apprised of the situation."

"They?"

"Government Operations Centre. They'll be at the meeting tomorrow, too."

Chapter 44.

Mika'el hesitated midstride as he pa.s.sed the gaping hole in the greenhouse's side. A window, not yet repaired, shattered by pruning shears thrown by the One when their struggles with Seth had begun. He made a mental note to have it looked after by one of the Thrones, then looked beyond the broken gla.s.s to the riotous, unkempt growth within the building. The air of desertion was unmistakable, sending a whisper of cold down his spine. How long had it been since the One had tended her beloved plants?