“Excellent. I want her sister.”
“Dead?”
“Alive. Find her, then come and get me.”
“I thought Samael was watching her now.”
“So did I. If you run across him, make sure he doesn’t see you.”
The former Virtue raised an eyebrow, glanced again at the rags, and unfolded his hands. “Done,” he said. “Should I send someone in to clean that up for you?”
Lucifer looked over at what remained of Raziel. “Thank you, but no. I’m not done with it yet.”
With a last shrug, Qemuel ambled back out the way he’d come in.
Seth stood up from the computer and stretched tall to rid his back and shoulders of their kinks. How mortals put in entire days sitting at one of these was beyond him. Why they did it, even more so. He glanced at the clock. Ten fifteen. Alex would be in Ottawa by now.
With Aramael.
He shoved away the insidious thought. He wasn’t going there anymore. Not after last night. Just as he wasn’t reading any more of the trash his father had written. His gaze fell on the journal lying on the dining room table where he’d placed it after Alex’s departure. It hadn’t been replaced, hadn’t moved.
“Wherever you are,” he said to the empty room, “you were wrong about her, so you might as well come and get your damned book. I’m through playing your little game.”
The doorbell rang.
He stared down the hall. The Fallen—? Giving himself a mental shake, he started for the door. Of course it wasn’t the Fallen One. The too-polite Mika’el, maybe, but not his supremely confident visitor. He pulled open the door.
“Jennifer?”
Alex’s sister studied the door frame. “Is she here?”
“She’s in Ottawa—did she not call you?”
Jennifer’s looked up and then away again. “No. She’s not answering my calls or my texts.”
“She’s been—”
“Oh, don’t you start, too.” She glared at him. “I’ve seen the news. I get that she’s busy, and I get that she’s angry with me. She has a right to be. But she has no right to take it out on my daughter. She could have at least called to tell Nina she couldn’t make it last night.”
“I’m sorry, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Jennifer puffed up like an angry Cherub. “It was my daughter’s seventeenth birthday dinner last night, Seth. Alex promised her she’d be there. You were both supposed to be there.”
“I’m sure she just forgot.”
“That’s the point. Oh, never mind.” Jennifer threw up her arms in disgust. “Just tell her she owes Nina a massive apology for this. Assuming she can spare her family two minutes away from saving the world.”
Seth watched Alex’s indignant sibling march down the corridor and around the corner to the elevators. He’d never imagined connecting with Jennifer on any level. Odd how he actually found it comforting to know he wasn’t the only one struggling with Alex’s heroic tendencies. About to close the door, he paused as a movement near the end of the hallway caught his attention. He narrowed his eyes. The Fallen One, come to retrieve the journal?
But the man stepping out of the shadows and pushing open the door to the stairwell was a stranger to him. A great, hulking stranger, perhaps, but unknown nonetheless. Seth shoved away the last threads of paranoia and closed the door.
Chapter 52
Samael scuffed a toe against the crumbling stone path. What was taking Raziel so long? He shivered in the damp chill. Lucifer never had managed to get the temperature right in this godforsaken place. Or much else, for that matter. The only creature comfort to be found in all of Hell was in front of one of its many fireplaces. Perhaps Seth would have more luck.
And more interest.
He peered down the path. Raziel’s message had said urgent, but if she didn’t show up in the next five—
A wad of rags sailed out of the trees and landed at his feet. Samael stepped back, wrinkling his nose at the stench of urine and feces rising from the pile. And was that blood he smelled? What the—
“I believe that’s yours,” a voice said, its very neutrality making it sound deadly.
Ice shot through Samael’s bowels.
“You really should choose your help with more care, my friend.” Polished black shoes came into view beside the bundle. “She didn’t even try to hold back.”
One of the shoes prodded at the pile. A pale, slender arm flopped out of the folds and onto the path. Samael closed his eyes. Bloody Heaven. Raziel. Samael was as good as dead. Footsteps circled him. He went rigid, waiting for the first blow. Lucifer chuckled.
“You think I’d make it that easy for you, Archangel?” His voice had gone soft. “Oh, no. I want to know things first. Such as what it is you’re up to, who else is in on it, whether you’ve managed to disrupt my plan—”
“Your precious plan,” Samael snarled, his eyes snapping open.
Lucifer went still. Marble still. He tipped his head to one side, purple eyes curious. “Have you always had such an inordinate desire for pain, or is this relatively new?”
A bead of sweat trickled down Samael’s temple, trailing cold in its wake. “I only meant—”
“I know what you meant.” Lucifer resumed his slow circling. “We haven’t seen eye to eye for quite some time now. In and of itself, that’s not such a bad thing, really. I think it’s quite healthy for two intelligent beings to disagree on occasion. My problem—” The footsteps stopped directly behind Samael, and warm breath stirred against his ear. “My problem lies with your continued inability to recall which one of us is in command here, Samael. Especially after I’ve already reminded you. Twice.”
Cruel hands clamped down on his shoulders. “Now, why don’t we—”
“Lucifer,” a new voice rumbled.
Lucifer’s hands squeezed, sending pain streaking through Samael and felling him to his knees. “This had better be—” The hands dropped away. “Qemuel. You found her already?”
“It wasn’t difficult.”
“You hear that, Sam?” Lucifer grabbed Samael’s chin and twisted it up and around until he looked him in the eye. “It wasn’t difficult. That makes me wonder what your problem was all this time, you know.” He released him again with a pat on the cheek that snapped Samael’s head sideways. “We’ll take this up again later, Archangel. And if you were thinking of running, please, be my guest. It will make this much more interesting—and we both know I’ll find you.”
Terror—utter, paralyzing terror—robbed Samael of the capacity to stand after Lucifer’s departure. Long minutes dragged by, more than he cared to acknowledge, before he felt the blood return to his veins, the tone to his muscles. He dragged himself upright. He’d expected Lucifer to find out eventually, but not this soon. He wasn’t ready—Seth wasn’t ready. Another few days . . .
He stared at what was left of Raziel. He didn’t have a few days. A few hours, maybe—or as long as he could stay ahead of Lucifer—but that was all. If he was going to pull this off, somehow he had to find the words to tip Seth over the edge
He stepped over the fouled clothing, past the pale arm. He’d speak with Mittron first. The Seraph’s plan to cause Armageddon in the first place had more than demonstrated his ability for scheming. Maybe he could be of more use than just unlocking the gates of Limbo.
Assuming the drugs hadn’t fried all his brain cells by now.
