Sins of the Lost

“Be reasonable. This is—” He ducked as Lucifer’s glass sailed past his head and shattered in a spray of crystal shards and port against the bookcase behind him.

“Twenty-four hours,” the Light-bearer repeated. “Less an hour for every objection you make.”

Clenching his teeth, Samael turned on his heel and left. The Light-bearer wanted to be replaced twenty-four hours from now?

That was fucking fine by him.

Chapter 61

Aramael drove her to the hospital. He didn’t walk her in.

“Mika’el wants to see me,” he said, holding out the keys to her as they stood at the rear of her sedan in the parking garage.

She stared at them for a moment before taking them. “Will you be back?”

“I don’t know.”

Of course. Now that Heaven knew Jen and Nina had been the targets, her own protection no longer mattered. She studied her soulmate, the Archangel who would have given his own life to protect hers. A few days ago, she had wanted nothing to do with him, wanted nothing more than for him to get out of her life.

Now she couldn’t imagine her life without him in it.

She turned to walk away. Swung back. “Aramael.”

Tall and strong and silent, he waited. Quiet fire burned in his gray eyes. For an instant, she wondered what he would do if she crossed the space between them. If she burrowed against that powerful chest and wrapped her arms around him and—

No. She wouldn’t do that to him. Or to herself. Even before all of this had happened, even before Seth had happened, together had never been an option. Aramael had been right all along. They were a mistake.

It was up to her to put that mistake behind them once and for all.

“Thank you,” she said. “For everything.”

For getting me here, for saving me, for watching over me, for caring even after I chose another. Thank you—and good-bye.

The fire in Aramael’s eyes dimmed, flickered, died. His gaze traveled over her, lingering on her face as if he would commit every detail to memory. Then he spread his wings wide—his magnificent, coal-black, mighty wings—and gave her a rare small smile.

“Go,” he said. “Your sister is waiting.”

She walked away, her footsteps echoing in the cavernous space. When she looked back from halfway down the aisle of cars, he was gone.

Minutes later, Alex stepped into a hospital emergency ward yet again. The television in the waiting area was tuned to the news. She flinched from the image of herself emerging virtually unscathed from the fireball of the explosion. A few people seated nearby looked around as she walked past, but no recognition sparked and she made herself relax again.

Reaching the desk, she flashed her badge at the triage nurse, who nodded and buzzed her through the doors separating the waiting room from the ward.

“Jennifer Abbott?” she asked.

The nurse glanced at his computer screen. “Bed number six.”

Following the point of his finger, she skirted a gurney wheeled by paramedics, a woman pacing the corridor with a fractious baby in arms, a young girl about Nina’s age on crutches. The girl offered a smile as she passed. Alex had none to return.

Elizabeth Riley emerged from the curtained cubicle as Alex arrived, compassion softening her usually sharp features. Her blue eyes brightened with relief.

“It’s good to see you,” she said, folding Alex into an unexpected embrace. “The explosion is all over the news. How are you?”

Alex stepped back from the contact and swallowed the lump it had triggered. “I’m fine,” she said. “Just a few stitches.” She motioned at the curtain. “Jen?”

“Sedated . . . and restrained.” Riley put out a hand to stop Alex’s instinctive step toward her sister. “Wait. Hear me out first. We had no choice, Alex. One minute she was unconscious, and the next, her eyes were open and she was shrieking nonstop. She gave one of the nurses a broken nose before we pinned her down.”

Alex didn’t pull back this time. Instead, staring at the beige fabric before her, she made herself focus on Riley’s touch. Let it be her anchor while the world slowly righted itself again. She cleared her throat.

“Can she talk?” she asked.

“It’s unlikely, but you’re welcome to try.”

Riley stepped into the cubicle and held the curtain aside for her. Alex steeled herself, then moved to the bedside. Jen lay against the pillow, her face pale and hair awry. A four-point restraint system was visible at the edges of the blanket covering her. Compassionate, beautiful, too-serious Jennifer . . . tied to a hospital bed. Reaching out, Alex brushed the hair back from her sister’s face. Brown eyes stared up at the ceiling without flickering.

Alex blinked back tears. She cleared the thickening in her throat. “Hey, Jenny-girl.”

No response.

She tried again, this time gently turning her sister’s head toward her. “Jen? It’s Alex. I came to see how you’re doing.”

Jen’s gaze drifted past her, unfocused, uncaring.

Alex drew a shuddering breath. Christ. She stared down at the woman who had raised her after their parents had died, the woman she had once thought to be the strongest person she knew. If Jen had caved under the pressure, what chance did Alex stand?

Riley’s hand covered hers on the bed rail. “It’s not unusual for a person’s mind to temporarily close off after a trauma. Give her time. It’s possible this is just the effects of the sedative.”

The sedative. Alex watched the even rise and fall of her sister’s chest. For the second time that evening, she wondered what it might be like to be drugged, restrained, no longer able—or expected—to take part in the world’s disintegration. The idea held such seductive allure, especially when compared with the alternative.

Alex’s hand curled beneath Riley’s. She withdrew it and stepped away from the bed. “If she saw what I think she saw, she might be better off staying where she is.”

“You know what happened to your niece?”

She shoved her hands into her coat pockets. “Lucifer happened to her. The same way he happened to me. Except Nina’s only—” she broke off. “Oh, God.”

Riley pushed Alex into the chair beside the bed. “You look like you’re going to pass out. Is it your head? Do you want a doctor?”

“What day is it?” Alex whispered. She hunched over, protecting herself from what the psychiatrist would tell her. What she already knew.

“Alex, if you’re experiencing confusion—” Riley tipped up her chin with one hand and peered into her eyes.

“What day is it?”

“It’s Friday.”

“Christ. I missed it.”

“Missed what? Look at this and follow it.” Riley held up a finger. “Was there any blow to your head? It was hard to tell from that video. We should have you checked out, just in case.”

Alex pushed away the psychiatrist’s hand. “Her birthday, Riley. I missed Nina’s birthday. It was yesterday, and I forgot it. She turned seventeen.”

All those calls from Jen, all those texts she’d ignored because she hadn’t wanted to deal with another confrontation—and all her sister had wanted to do was remind her. And now Nina was gone. Son of a