Sins of the Lost

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 shirt she’d draped across the sofa back, slid her arms into it, and buttoned 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. Hell. 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 button 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 glass, 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.

Damn it to Hell 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 . . .

Damned if he hadn’t felt a flicker of compassion.

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 damned 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 scraps, 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.

Hell, if she were truthful, she couldn’t even react to the scene. Three bodies, a dozen shell-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.

“Jen?” Alex held the cell phone away to make sure the call was still connected. She put it back to her ear.