The slow sickening of his expression told her his thoughts had followed hers. He understood the risk would be too great. Anguish filled his face. His throat worked with the effort to speak, but in the end he simply gave her shoulder a squeeze and followed the others out of the office, taking his cell phone from his jacket pocket as he did so. His voice, gruff and authoritative, floated back to her as he gave instructions to clear the building.
And then there was only Seth.
Alex lifted her eyes to the awful emptiness of his.
Deep within her, her soul whispered a name.
Chapter 75
Mika’el stood shoulder to shoulder with Verchiel in shared silence. The space that had been occupied by the One and Lucifer was now empty—bereft and oddly expectant at the same time. As if it couldn’t make up its mind whether the Creator was really gone or had only wandered away for a moment and would return. Much like the hole in Mika’el’s soul.
He squared his shoulders. “You’ll have to advise the others,” he said. “They’ll have felt her leaving.”
“Alone?” She cast a startled look at him.
“I need to ready the Archangels.” He realized he still held his sword clenched in a near death grip and shoved it back into its sheath. “And an army. The Hellfire will come down soon if it hasn’t already.”
Her hands twisted into her robe. “Of course,” she said. “Because it’s just us now. You and me, leading all of Heaven.”
He stiffened, hearing a note in her voice that he didn’t like. Verchiel went to the One’s chair and ran her hand over the back of it. She gazed out the window. Mika’el waited, bracing for what he suspected would come next. The Highest didn’t disappoint.
“It won’t work,” she said. “We’re not strong enough to fight a war and still hold all of this”—she waved —“together.”
“Don’t,” he said. “Not yet.”
Verchiel heaved a sigh. “We have to talk about it, Mika’el. She might be our—”
“I said not yet.”
“Then when?” She turned to him, annoyance creasing her brow. “It could take us weeks to find her. We haven’t heard so much as a whisper from her for six thousand years—or about her, for that matter.”
They’d been watching for her? His mind answered the question even as it formed. She was the daughter of Heaven. One of its biggest losses—and greatest regrets. Of course they’d been watching for her . . . just as he himself had meticulously avoided doing so. He stalked past the Seraph, headed not for the door and the waiting throng, but for the glassless window and the eminently more manageable concerns of war. Verchiel’s voice followed him.
“I know this is difficult for you, but at least let me begin looking.”
Grief, guilt, and utter despair wrangled for the upper hand in his chest. He stepped through the floor-to- ceiling window and into the gardens.
“Mika’el!”
Unfurling his wings, he left her behind.
Her, but not the memories of Emmanuelle.
Chapter 76
Striding into the war council chambers, Mika’el unsheathed his sword. He laid it across the table with the others. Six Archangels fell silent. Six sets of eyes watched grimly. He didn’t prevaricate.
“What you’ve heard is true,” he said. “She’s gone.”
There was a collective inhale, and then chaos.
A dozen questions came at him in what seemed to be a single breath, battering against his ears, his skull, his already bloody heart. Resting his hands on the table, he dropped his head, waited for the accusatory voices to die down. They ended with a single harsh question rising above the others.
“Why in bloody Hell didn’t you stop her?” Raphael demanded.
Mika’el lifted his head to glare at him. “Because she wanted this. It was the only way she could stop Lucifer.”
The others blinked at him.
“She took him with her?” Azrael asked. “He
“Yes. To both questions.”
Another jumble of voices ensued. Again he waited. Again one voice rose above the others.
“So that’s it. Hell’s ruler is gone. The Fallen are on their own,” said Gabriel.
“No.” Aramael pushed back his chair and stood, his hands fisted. “No, they’re not. Seth will take his place.”
“We don’t know that for certain,” Mika’el said, “but given Seth’s lack of cooperation so far, yes, it’s possible he’ll step into the void.”
“Not possible. Definite. I know him better than you do, Mika’el. He’ll feel we forced him into this, forced him to give up Alex. He’ll be bitter and angry, and this will be his way of getting back at us.”
“Even if you’re right, it changes little. We’ll still be fighting the same war whether Seth is a part of it or not.”
“Except the
The former Power didn’t speak the last part. He didn’t need to. The words hung over the table all the same, stark and unforgiving in their truth. Drawing himself up to his full height, Mika’el glowered at him, hating that he was right but still refusing to consider the possibility raised by Verchiel. He would not—
“Then we’ll just have to work harder at remaining united,” he snapped. “Starting now. With us. Any objections?”
When no one spoke, he raised an eyebrow at Aramael. Scowling, the other took his seat again. Mika’el nodded.
“Good. Then you each know what you’re to—” He stopped as Gabriel, the only female among their company, cleared her throat. “Yes?”
“What about the Nephilim?”
“What about them?”
“The babies have all been born, and they’ve all disappeared. Do we just leave them out there like that, or —?”
Mika’el understood what she was asking. For a brief moment, standing there in the One’s profound absence, he had wondered the same thing himself. He’d also reached a conclusion. He let his gaze travel the table, meeting each of the others’ in turn.
“The One might no longer be here,” he said quietly, “but her legacy lives on in us. All of us. We uphold her ways, is that understood?”
Slowly, one by one, the Archangels nodded.
“Then as I was saying, you know—”
A chair crashed to the floor as Aramael surged to his feet again. Mika’el sighed.
“Now wh—?” He stopped midword as the other Archangel grabbed his sword from the table, scattering the others—and their owners—in all directions. Mika’el leaned across the table and seized Aramael’s wrist, holding him fast.
