Sins of the Lost

from its place. Missing, period. As in gone. As in someone had entered his domain and taken his private property. Had dared trespass against him.

Disbelief unfurled in his gut. A snarl of fury—cold and visceral—drove it out. He whirled and stalked around his desk. If he had to rip apart the whole of Hell, he would—

The door opened as he reached it. A diminutive Cherub stood in the opening holding a tray, eyes wide and startled. “Light-bearer!”

Lucifer stopped short of plowing over her. He glowered down. “You’re in my way.”

“I’m s-sorry,” the Cherub squeaked. The dishes on the tray rattled as she held it out to him. “I have your tea.”

Lifting his arm to brush both the tray and the Cherub from his path, he saw her gaze dart past him. The pupils of her eyes widened almost imperceptibly. He went still, resisting the impulse to turn and look at what he already knew she’d seen. The gap between the books on the shelf. His own eyes narrowed as the Cherub’s dropped. Her breathing quickened, and the pulse at the base of her throat hammered. Lucifer stepped back and aside, turning his raised arm into a sweeping invitation to enter.

“Raziel, isn’t it?” he murmured.

Shocked blue eyes lifted to his. “Yes, sir.”

Raziel, favored informant of Samael for several hundred years after the Fallen had departed Heaven. His nostrils flared. Bloody Heaven, he’d rip the Archangel apart with his bare hands.

“You can leave that on the desk.” He smiled and, hands in his pockets, wandered toward the fireplace. “Thank you.”

Thank you for solving my mystery for me.

Raziel hesitated for a second more and then scurried forward to set the tray, now jangling in a most irritating manner, on his desk. She slanted a glance at him. “Weren’t you going somewhere?”

“Hm? Oh. It can wait. I think I’ll have tea first.”

She hovered, biting her lip, and for a moment, he wondered if she might not confess on the spot and save him the trouble of digging for the details. But with a quick last glance at the bookshelves, she sidled toward the door. It slammed shut as she came within reach of it. She stopped in her tracks, a hiss of air escaping her.

“Stay,” Lucifer said. “We’ve never had a chance to chat. I’m sure you have much to tell me.”

The Cherub turned to face him. Her gaze, hollow with the knowledge of what was to come, met his. He smiled, and with a soft mewl, she crumpled to the floor.

Chapter 47

Alex waited for the burn in her throat to subside, then poured a second, generous portion of whiskey. Swirling the amber liquid in a slow circle, she stared at her reflection in the dark kitchen window.

“So you’re not really all-powerful.” Even now, with one drink already warming her belly, her brain kept dancing around the idea. The blasphemy behind it. Except the One herself had said it, so was it really blasphemy? She slugged back the second shot of whiskey.

“I have limits,” the One agreed.

“How? How can you have made all of this”—she waved an encompassing hand—“and still have limits?”

“Everything I’ve made is a part of me, a tiny bit of my essence. My power, if you will. That holds true of Lucifer as well, only he is more of me than my other creations. A great deal more. I wanted a helpmeet in him. A partner. I wanted him to be my equal, or very close to it.”

The liquor in Alex’s stomach gave an uneasy roll. Lucifer, equal to the One? That didn’t sound good.

“The real problem,,” continued the One, “lies with the part of myself I used to create him. Whether because of instinct or a need to retain at least an illusion of control, I wanted him to be just slightly less than what I was. I didn’t want him to feel lesser to me, however, so I compensated by giving him the illusion of equal power . . . more of my yang than my yin, I suppose you could say.”

“I don’t understand.”

“At one time, I was the All, the everything. I was balance itself, both Creator and Destroyer, both light and dark. When I made Lucifer, I gave him more of that darker side of me. Now, while I create, he is more prone to destroy. I love, while he holds my capacity to hate. I am the champion of good. He . . . is not. All that he is, I no longer am. And what I am, he can never be. It isn’t that I don’t want to rise against him or his Fallen followers, it’s that I can’t. I don’t have the strength—and I gave him my will.”

“So how in Hell,” Alex grated, “did he get the name of Light-bearer?”

“In the beginning, he was the light of my existence. Now he is the light of truth—the truth about me. My failure, my arrogance, my ultimate demise.”

“De—” The empty glass dropped from Alex’s grip, floated above the floor for an instant, and rose to settle gently on the counter. She stared at it, then at the One. “What demise?”

“It’s how I will stop him, Alexandra. The only way that I can. It’s the reason I ask you to do the unbearable and convince Seth to take back what only he can possess. Holding this world together against my son’s discarded power is taking everything I have. If Lucifer turns to open warfare—and it’s only a matter of time until he does—I cannot stand against him as long as Seth remains mortal.”

Alex wrapped her arms around herself and hung on for dear life as what little remained of reality shuddered, splintered, and crumbled to dust. She opened her mouth to speak but found no voice. Swallowing twice, she tried again, managing a bare whisper. “What about the angels? Michael and—the others?”

“They can stop the Fallen from destroying you outright, but not from inflicting great damage. Should Lucifer himself decide to get involved, things will not go well.”

“And the Nephilim?”

“They, I’m afraid, will remain humanity’s burden.”

“So if I don’t convince Seth, humanity will absolutely be wiped from existence, and if I do convince him, you’ll die and we’ll still have the Nephilim to deal with.”

“Not die. Become other. I will bind my energy to Lucifer’s to become what I used to be a very long time ago, before I took a form.”

“There will be no one left?”

“My angels will remain to watch over you, and there will be Seth.”

Seth. Many times damaged Seth, asleep in the other room. Asleep, waiting for her, with no idea of the treachery taking place in his own kitchen. She thought about the cool politeness to which they had resorted in their dance around what neither wanted to discuss. Her job. Aramael. The unsettling question of why he had allowed a Fallen One into his life. The continued, looming presence of Lucifer between them. The lack of his concern for anyone but her among humanity.

And now, Heaven’s request that she, too, betray his trust.

Silence settled between them. Alex tried to imagine a world without its Creator. Her world without the man she loved if he stepped back into his immortal birthright. She tried, too, to be angry with a deity that could have let things go this far, get this out of hand, become this hopeless.

But all she could manage was emptiness. Sadness. A single question. “How soon?”

The One rose from the table. “As soon as you can,” she said. “And, Alex . . . for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

Chapter 48

Alex slipped back into bed and lay beside Seth, listening to his deep, steady breathing. Light and shadow played across the ceiling as cars passed by in the street below. Pain stabbed beneath her ribs with every beat of her heart.