lousy toward women, and anyone with a brain knows it.”
“Are you accusing me of not having a brain?” he said in a mild voice. “I do know it.”
“Oh,” Allie said, deflated. And in the darkness, Azazel found he could feel amusement. “I imagine she’ll tell you what she remembers, and the truth about her curse. Eventually.”
“ ‘Eventually’?”
“Her memory of the last few years is as spotty as her memory of her ancient history. But she remembers you. She remembers that you staked her out for the Nephilim, but for some reason changed your mind. She remembers that you had sex with her, and then immediately handed her over to the creatures who almost killed her. But she doesn’t remember that once again you were the one to save her. Why is that?”
“I have no idea why she doesn’t remember. It’s of little importance.”
“Don’t try to dodge me. You gave her to those butchers. Why did you save her?” In the past Allie had given him a wide berth, but the last few years had strengthened her inner power, and she was no longer afraid of him. Not afraid to challenge him, to ask the hard questions, to take him to task if need be. Things had definitely changed.
“I changed my mind.” His tone made it clear that he wasn’t going to discuss it further, and she shrugged.
“You’ll need to give her a better reason than that. When she’s ready to talk to you, that is. Shall I tell her you saved her?”
“Given our recent history, I doubt she’ll be impressed. I’ll tell her myself if I decide she needs to know.”
Allie nodded, then lapsed into a meditative silence. Strangely enough, he felt comfortable, sitting in the darkness with Raziel’s wife, watching the tide roll in. He could feel the last of his resentment slipping away. Sarah was gone, and the best way he could honor her and what they’d had together was to let go, move on.
He closed his eyes, and for a moment he could almost feel her hands on his shoulders, her lips brushing a kiss on the top of his head, her heavy silver braid brushing against him. He kept his eyes closed, soaking in the benediction, and then she was gone.
He opened his eyes, to discover they were wet and stinging. He blessed the darkness, but he knew Allie could see anyway. He cleared his throat. “Shouldn’t someone be checking on her?”
“Gretchen is there. I wouldn’t have left her if she hadn’t stabilized. You know that, Azazel.” Her voice was only faintly accusing.
He deserved it. “Yes,” he said. He had to say it, and for some reason it didn’t gall him. Perhaps it was Sarah’s blessing. “Thank you, Allie. Thank you for saving her.”
He half expected her to make light of it, but she simply said, “You’re welcome.”
“Raziel wonders what will happen to her.”
“She belongs here. She’s like a newborn—this is her new life, her memories, old and new. We’ll find a way to work her into the community.”
She didn’t ask him if he minded. It was no longer his decision. He’d ceded leadership to Raziel and gone on his quest, his quest to destroy the Lilith. Now he was simply one of the Fallen. And she would be here. Hating him.
“As it shall be,” he said, using the old words.
“As it shall be,” Allie murmured formally. She glanced over her shoulder. Raziel had come to join them, standing behind them, and the two of them shared a smile, the sort of secret communication he’d once had with Sarah, and he waited for that flash of anger, of jealousy and rage for all that he had lost.
It was gone. Washed clean. Astonishing, when it had ruled his life for so long.
Allie glanced up at Raziel, and he nodded, putting his hands on her shoulders as Sarah had once touched him, leaning down and placing a kiss on her head. The parallel should have disturbed him. Instead, it began to warm a very cold place inside him.
“You’re weak, Azazel,” Allie said after a moment. “I can feel it. You’ve been running on sheer nerves. It’s been much too long for you, and you know it.”
He shook his head. “I’m not ready to go up to the house or go through the ritual.”
“No need,” she said. And held out her slender wrist.
He glanced up at Raziel in surprise, but Raziel simply nodded. “You need it,” he said.
It was against the laws of Sheol to partake of the Source without the full ritual, but now Raziel made the laws. And things were already changing, with Rachel, with him. He wanted to fight the clawing need, to reject this woman, but he couldn’t. His need was too strong. He took her wrist in both hands, hesitating a moment. And then bit, delicately, as his fangs extended, and the blood was thick and sweet and healing.
He stopped before he was sated, careful not to push things, and released her arm with the traditional words of thanks.
“Are you certain you’ve had enough?” she asked, as both healer and Source. He nodded, feeling the strength course through him, filling him with steely power. “Then I’ll go check on my patient.”
As she moved back to the house, he realized that at some point she’d attained the perfect grace that went with being the Source. He could see it and admire it now.
Raziel took her abandoned seat. “I take it you don’t hate her anymore. That’s a good thing, brother.” He followed Azazel’s gaze out to the sea. “And you’re at full strength now, I presume. I have a question for you. Allie has decreed that Rachel will stay here. Does that mean you will leave?”
He thought about it. She would hate him, and the sight of her would bring a deep, inexplicable pain. A pain he wasn’t going to run from. He’d run from pain for long enough. “No. I will stay.”
Raziel nodded. “Good. I suspect we’re going to need you. I take it the Truth Breakers were unable to unearth
