Sins of the Lost

because of her, and now they wanted him to lose her, too?

Expected her to push him away?

Christ.

Seth shoved the plate with his own sandwich to one side. “We need to talk.”

A woman laughed at a table in the back corner, a bray of sound that caused other patrons to go quiet and look for the source. Alex shook her head.

“This might not be the right time—”

“It will never be the right time, Alex, and we can’t continue like this. You and Heaven want me to take back my powers—”

“I never said that.”

“Semantics. Whether you want it or not, you think I should. But has it ever occurred to you—to any of you—to question the need for me to do so?”

“What do you mean? Aramael said—”

Fury sparked in his black eyes. Shit. Wrong name to drop right now.

His forearms on the table, Seth leaned toward her. “Think about it, Alex. My mother is the One, the Creator of All, and she can’t deal with this? She needs me to take back my powers because she’s not strong enough to keep them from damaging the planet? Does that even make sense? Or are you too blinded by your soulmate’s presence to see sense?”

Alex rocked back in her seat, recoiling from his viciousness, stunned by his words. He really thought that of her? And wait—could he be right about the One? When he put it like that, he was right. It didn’t make sense. The Creator of the entire universe should be able to manage this. But then why would Aramael and Michael say otherwise? What weren’t they telling her?

Christ, she didn’t know what to think anymore. If there was a shred of a chance that Seth might be onto something here, however—

“I’ll talk to Aramael,” she said. “See if I can find out—”

“What, more lies? Do you really think he’ll tell you the truth?”

“Michael, then.” She watched Seth’s mouth compress. “Damn it, Seth, we need more information. You can’t make a decision without—”

“My decision is already made.” His voice was cold. “Apparently, however, yours is not.”

Chapter 36

Seth walked Alex back to the office in stubborn silence. With every step, the few inches between them seemed to grow wider. The chasm in his heart did likewise. Try as he might to justify her words, to understand why she felt the way she did about her world, her race, it all kept coming back to one thing. If it turned out that the planet really was in trouble, she expected him to save it. To take back his powers and give her up. Give them up.

As she would do. Willingly.

Pain squeezed through his chest. He breathed around it, the words of his father’s journal burning in his memory: “How she could allow these creatures to come between us is beyond comprehension. Beyond endurance.” He shoved them away. No. Alex wasn’t like his mother, and he was nothing like Lucifer. They could still figure their way through this. If she needed more information, he’d get it for her. He’d ask the questions of Mika’el himself, find a way to make the Archangel admit he was wrong. Make him admit the One could—

Alex’s hand on his forearm sent a rush of warmth through him, stopping his thoughts, freezing his step. He looked down, even now all too willing to let go of their argument, to put things right again. Needing to do so. But her attention wasn’t on him. He peered into the alley beside which they stood, then looked askance at her.

She frowned. “I thought I heard—”

A moan. He heard it, too.

Alex dropped her hand from his arm and stepped into the narrow passage. Reining in his impatience, he followed. Yet again, another took precedence. Even if he managed to convince Alex that his decision to remain with her would do no harm—that it was the right one, the only one, to make—would they still grapple with this, her job? Would she always put others before herself? Before him? He looked down at her touch on his arm and saw her pointing with her other hand.

“There.”

A figure slumped in the shadow of a Dumpster a dozen feet away, head resting in a dark pool. Seth drew back in distaste. “Is that blood?”

“Most likely.” She pulled out her cell phone and moved forward again, simultaneously punching in a number and calling out to the man. “Sir? Are you all right? I’m a police officer, and I want to help. I’m going to have a look at—” She broke off and turned her attention to the phone as she went down on one knee beside the man. “Hi, yes, it’s Detective Alexandra Jarvis from the homicide unit. I have an injured civilian in an alley off—”

The man lunged at her. The cell phone flew from her grasp and smashed into the Dumpster. Seth leapt forward, reaching to pull Alex away, but he was too slow. The man’s hands closed around her throat and he rose to his feet, lifting her with him. Her breath became a harsh rasp beneath his hold and Seth seized his arm. He pulled. Pulled harder. Bellowed his fury. His fear.

The man paid no attention.

Abandoning his hold, Seth snaked his forearm around the man’s neck and tightened it with all the strength he possessed. An elbow plowed into his ribs and he sailed through the air. His head cracked against a brick wall. For an awful instant, the world flickered, on the verge of turning black. He struggled to breathe, fought off the darkness.

Alex. I have to help Alex.

He rolled to his hands and knees. Pain shot through his chest, hammered in his skull. A cold, awful realization gripped him. I can’t help her. I’m mortal. I have no power—

“Call him,” the man snarled.

Seth tried to focus through the flashes of light going off in his eyes. Alex’s attacker held her off the ground, hands still at her throat, shaking her as he might a doll.

“Call him!” he demanded again. “Call your soulmate, Naphil. Like you did for—”

A rush of wind swept through the alley, driving grit into Seth’s eyes, sealing them shut. He scrubbed at them, forced them open. Aramael towered above him, black wings spread wide, menace written in his every line.

“Let her go, Mittron,” he snarled.

Mittron?

The man shifted, spinning to hold her from behind. He replaced the hands at her throat with a knife. Alex gasped for air, a harsh, ragged sound that clawed at Seth’s heart. He struggled to his feet, ignoring the pain streaking through his rib cage, focusing instead on the cold glint of metal. He tried not to think about the terrible fragility of a mortal life. The world spun and his stomach heaved. He sagged to the pavement.

“I knew you would come,” the man breathed. “I knew she would call for you.”

“Let her go,” Aramael said again.

The man shook his head, his amber eyes glowing with an intensity that sent a shudder down Seth’s spine. Amber eyes that, despite the mania that had taken hold in their depths, he recognized. Aramael was right. It was Mittron. Fresh fury snarled through Seth. Damn it to Hell, would Heaven’s interference never end?

“It’s not that easy,” Mittron said. “We need to trade. You want her, and I want what you gave Caim.”

Aramael scowled. “Caim!” he spat. “I gave him noth—”

“Death,” rasped Seth. “He wants you to kill him.”

He felt the Archangel’s shock. His denial. He kept his own focus squarely on the wavering knife, willing it to