“We’re not sure, but the watcher is a former Archangel and Lucifer’s top aide. He wouldn’t be involved unless it was something important.”
The very mention of Lucifer’s name turned her mouth dry. Bitter. “All right, then try this. Why do you care? I’m hardly important in the grand scheme of things. What does it matter if Lu—” She pressed her lips together. Christ, she couldn’t even bring herself to say the name. “What does it matter if this Fallen One does want me for some reason?”
“You know why it matters.”
Alex’s heart skidded sideways. She ruthlessly brought it to heel. That wasn’t what he’d meant. This wasn’t personal, not if Mika’el was behind it. No, it was about Seth. She lifted her chin.
“Then you’re wasting your time, because I won’t ask him to do it.”
“Not even with all that’s at stake?”
“Apart from Seth himself? I don’t care.”
Aramael frowned. “Your entire—”
“Today, Jarvis!” Roberts’s bellow cut between them, a reminder of the job waiting for her.
She put a hand to the back of her neck, wrestling with this latest collision of her two realities. A Fallen One stalking her again. Aramael, shoulder to shoulder with her in the car. Roberts’s obvious relief at her having a partner. Seth, oblivious to the machinations going on behind his back.
A stoning, not in some far-off country prone to religious fanaticism, but here in Toronto. Her city. Her home.
Eighty thousand Nephilim babies about to be born and molded into Lucifer’s ultimate army against humankind.
A world teetering on the brink of chaos. Maybe even the brink of extinction.
All that, and she wanted to turn away the only angel volunteering to ride shotgun with her?
Yes.
No.
“Jarvis!” Roberts roared.
Damn it to hell and back.
Twice.
“Fine,” she snarled. “I don’t have time to argue. I drive, you shut up.”
Aramael opened his mouth. She held up a hand.
“I’m not kidding. One word about Seth or Michael or whatever new disaster you claim is looming on the horizon, and I will dump your ass at the side of the road. Are we clear?”
It didn’t matter that they both knew she had no way to carry out her threat, it simply felt good to set the parameters. It felt even better to have him nod acquiescence. She turned on her heel and headed for the door.
Chapter 22
“You’re certain no one else saw you?” Samael slipped the slim, leather-bound book into the pocket of his coat.
Raziel, one of only a handful of female Fallen, arched an eyebrow at him. “A dozen or more saw me,” she said. “As they always do when I take his tea things in or retrieve them.”
“You know what I mean.”
“He was nowhere in the area.” Her eyes narrowed. “You still haven’t told me why you want it.”
“No, but I did tell you it was better that you didn’t know.”
The pert former Cherub smiled. “And you know I’m not very good at minding my own business. That’s why you like me so much.”
Samael stared down at the Fallen One. Raziel had remained in Heaven as his informant when he’d left to follow Lucifer, until it had become too dangerous for her. Uniquely unobtrusive, she had a way of blending into the background so that others failed to notice her, failed to realize she listened in on conversations meant to be private. It made her useful in the extreme, and she was right. He liked her a great deal for it. He didn’t for an instant, however, consider her infallible.
“I’ll let you know when I’m ready for the next one,” he said. He started down the alley toward the street.
“What if I don’t want to help again?”
He looked over his shoulder. Raziel watched him with a cool expression, her spikey-haired head tipped to the side. She was the first to look away.
“Same old Samael.” She gave a quick laugh. “Fine. I’ll be waiting.”
“You let him what?”
Verchiel tried—but failed—to hide a flinch. Mika’el was an imposing figure at the best of times, even when seated, but Mika’el irritated? She took a tiny step away from the temper brewing.
“I let him take on the mortal persona of Jacob Trent,” she repeated. “He was right. There was little chance he could follow her movements, let alone anticipate them, without being at her side. Her job is too unpredictable.”
The Archangel glared at her. “And I wasn’t consulted because . . . ?”
“Because you were otherwise occupied at the time, and because, frankly, this was an administrative matter.” Verchiel drew herself up. “You cannot be everywhere at once, Mika’el. Not even the One can do that. Nor can you take responsibility for all the decisions that need to be made.”
“I’m perfectly willing to leave certain decisions up to others,” he growled, “but allowing Aramael to make his presence known to the woman? Allowing him to be with her? You’ve seen their connection. Surely you see the risk this poses.”
“I’ve also witnessed her rejection of him. She chose Seth, remember?”
“Has the Cleanse made you forget the strength of the soulmate bond? She can choose whomever she likes. It will never negate what was forged in Heaven itself.”
“But you have overcome your—” She broke off. “Forgive me. I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”
Mika’el’s jaw hardened. Emerald ice glinted in his eyes. He rose from behind his desk to prowl the room with long, restless strides. “I’ve learned to control my bond, Highest, not overcome it. Do not mistake the difference. With every beat of my heart, every breath I take, I feel the loss of her presence. The need—not the desire, the need—to seek her out again. To join with her. It takes all I possess to resist. No human, regardless of her bloodline, has that kind of strength.”
Verchiel hesitated. He was right. She had forgotten the strength of the bond. And now that he’d reminded her, the decision to allow Aramael to return as Jacob Trent seemed a great deal less clear-cut. “My apologies. I didn’t consider the risks.”
“Or the consequences.” Stopping, Mika’el faced her. “If, by some miracle, Aramael and the Naphil do resist the connection, his very presence in her life might prevent Seth from taking back his powers.”
“Do you want me to recall him?”
Rubbing a hand across his eyes, Mika’el sighed. “I don’t know what I want you to do. We still need her protected from Samael, and you’re right that Aramael cannot do so if he can’t follow her.” He fell silent. Then he shook his head. “No. Leave him where he is. I’ll talk to the Naphil again. Even if she’s unwilling to speak to Seth on our behalf, perhaps she’ll agree to stay quiet about Aramael.”
“And Seth? When will you speak with him?”
Another sigh. “After I speak with the woman,” he said. “For all the good it will do.”
Chapter 23
Alex’s shoulders had climbed almost to her ears by the time she steered the car onto Cardno Avenue in the upscale Leaside neighborhood. From the moment Aramael slid into the seat beside her, the tension between them had ratcheted upward with every passing second, every kilometer, because his silence hadn’t stopped her brain from dwelling on the reasons for his presence—or what Seth’s reaction would be if he found out.
A headache throbbed in her temples.
She passed a lineup of news vehicles, waited for a uniformed officer to move the wooden barrier blocking the street, and pulled up beside the mobile command post. The familiar jolt of adrenaline kicked through her as she switched off the engine—every cop’s reaction to facing a crime scene and the ensuing hunt for the perpetrator.