“If I am wrong, perhaps. But I am not. Consider the prophecy.”
“If you believe all the prophecies, the world should have ended a dozen times already,” she said stubbornly. “You don’t really believe that you and Rachel will reign in hell. Only Uriel does.”
“Yes. And Uriel will know when we mate. When I take her blood. Only then will we—”
“Wait a minute.” I pushed away from the wall. “What’s all this about blood?”
“Sit down,” Raziel said, an order, not a suggestion. I didn’t want to, but Azazel took my wrist and yanked, ungently, and I was crammed in beside him again. This time his hand held both my wrists beneath the table, and there was no escape.
“I can explain this to her when we are alone,” Azazel said, but Raziel made a dismissive gesture.
“Explain it to her now,” he said.
Azazel was watching me, his expression impassive. “Very well. When we fell, we were sentenced to eternal damnation, with no hope of redemption. We were cursed to watch our loved ones grow old and die; there would be no children, and we would ferry the dead between this world and the next. But when the second waves of angels followed us, they became the Nephilim, abominations.”
“I remember,” I muttered, trying to yank my hands away. His long fingers about my wrists might as well have been manacles.
“The Supreme Being added a new punishment. The Nephilim, the abominations, could only go out in the dark, and they would survive on flesh.” He hesitated for only a moment, then continued, “The Fallen are the blood-eaters. We must survive on the blood of our chosen mates, or, if one of us has recently lost a mate, the Source provides enough to keep him healthy until he mates again.”
“What’s the Source?” God knows why I asked that stupid question, with all the absurdity washing over me.
“I am,” Allie said quietly. “I am married to the Alpha, and I provide the blood for those like Azazel and Michael, until each finds his bonded mate. It’s a complicated process, and a mistake can be fatal. Only my blood and that of his chosen is safe for one of the Fallen. If he tries to drink from anyone else, he sickens and often dies.”
“God,” I muttered. “As if this weren’t crazy enough, we get vampires too.”
“Blood-eaters,” Allie said gently. “From the Bible.”
“Seriously?” For a moment I was genuinely distracted, wondering where in the Old Testament the vampires lurked. Where was the Book of Twilight, between Proverbs and Psalms? And then things became clearer. “My blood? You think he’s going to drink my blood? Are you out of your mind?”
“I agree,” Allie said. “You’re grasping at straws, Azazel. If she is your bonded mate, we all would have known it. If you agree to this, you’ll kill both of you.”
“Uh, explain that,” I broke in, my voice sounding even rougher. “You said my blood would poison him.”
Allie said nothing, and Azazel continued, “If you aren’t my chosen mate, there’s the possibility that I might drain you before I die. In some circumstances the need becomes more and more powerful, uncontrollably so. It happened a few years ago, with Ephrael.”
“We can’t afford to risk Azazel,” Raziel concluded.
Not to mention me, I thought grimly. “No.”
At the same time, Azazel said, “Yes.”
“You can’t make me.” This came out sounding like a playground taunt, but I was past caring.
“I could,” Azazel said smoothly.
Before I could protest, Raziel broke in. “No, we can’t make you. Indeed, there is no question but that the body and the blood must be freely given. If you say no, the discussion is at an end.”
Dead silence reigned again, making me feel guilty and edgy. “It’s not as if the fate of the world is hanging on this,” I protested.
The expression on Allie’s face gave me the answer.
“Azazel,” Raziel said, “you must find another partner. Clearly you are mistaken in thinking Rachel is your chosen one. You must look elsewhere.”
“No!” I looked around me, not able to believe that protest had erupted from my damaged throat. It had nothing to do with rational thought. The idea of Azazel claiming another sent a white-hot rage through my body. Which was another surprise.
“I beg your pardon?” Raziel said.
I wouldn’t look at Azazel. I knew his expression would register triumph, and I couldn’t bear it. “I said no,” I repeated. “You don’t have time for him to find some hypothetical chosen mate. It’s like looking for true love—it never shows up when you go searching.”
“Rachel, a chosen mate is a Fallen’s true love,” Allie explained.
I squirmed. Nothing like digging the hole deeper. “If he goes searching, he’s even more likely to find the wrong one, and he could die,” and damned if my broken voice didn’t crack on the word die.
“Then what do you suggest?” Raziel’s voice dripped sarcasm. “We just wait for the world to end?”
Shit. So it was all coming down to me? I felt as if I were suffocating, all the millennia crushing me, and I couldn’t breathe. “I need to get out of here,” I said in a panicked voice, which of course could barely be heard. “Please. I need to think.”
The hands around my wrists released me, and I moved before he could change his mind, pulling away from the table. No one tried to stop me, and I ran from the room, practically falling in my haste to get away.
The sun was shining through the eternal mist that covered Sheol. Everyone was in the council chamber—the only living things outside were the seagulls wheeling and mewing overhead. I walked down to the water’s edge, staring as the waves crested and spilled toward me.
I knew now why I was afraid of the ocean: I had been drowned by a man I thought loved me, hundreds and hundreds of years ago.
I made myself sit on the sand, watching the roiling water as the tide came in, closer and closer. So the fate of the world came down to me? I would have laughed if it weren’t so damnable. Why did it have to come to this?
I hadn’t smothered babies. I hadn’t lured men to their doom. But I had done other reprehensible things in my rage as the Lilith. I was a storm demon in ancient Mesopotamia, whipping up wind that buried towns and all their inhabitants in sand. I had brought down hurricanes and typhoons and tornadoes; I had rained destruction on those who had hurt me over the years. Once I’d escaped from my sexual servitude to the demons, my rage had been monumental, and I had visited it upon everyone.
I had penance to complete. On the one hand, the entire world might be destroyed and an evil old man would triumph. On the other hand, I could pay for my sins and save the world, simply by having sex with a creature who made my bones melt, no matter how much I hated him. I wanted him just as much as I wanted him dead, and no common sense seemed to talk me out of it. In truth, I might not be his chosen one. But whether I liked it or not, he was mine.
The answer was clear. It might kill him, which was fine with me. It might kill us both, which was, oddly, equally acceptable. But I knew it wouldn’t. I knew the truth, though I refused to face it head-on.
The only thing I didn’t like was the blood part.
I rose. The tide had come in far enough to touch my bare toes, and they tingled, flexing, almost drawing me in. I pulled back, though. I was afraid of the ocean, I reminded myself. Afraid of drowning.
I walked back into the house, kicking the sand off my feet as I went. I could hear their voices raised in argument, too many people talking at once. I pushed open the door, and everyone fell silent.
My eyes went to Azazel’s. His face was impassive, pale, and beautiful. He already knew the answer. I looked away.
“I’ll do it.”
AZAZEL WATCHED THE CONFUSION ABOUT him with a calm he hadn’t felt in years. He wasn’t going to think about when, or how, or why. He distrusted prophecies. But he knew this was meant to be.