Seth leaned his forehead against the cold window glass, staring down into the street after the departing taillights. In the car, Alex and him—her soulmate. Behind him, once again, the apartment. Silent, empty, hollow. His hand closed over the note she’d left him, crumpling it. He let it fall to the floor.
Damn it to Hell and back, were they not to be allowed any peace? A mortal lifetime was already so short, and now—now the machinations of others threatened even that. Others who played with the future of the entire universe and all its occupants. Others who would drag him back into their game. Again.
And now they tried to use Alex herself against him. To make her doubt him. To make him doubt himself.
He scowled. Well, they’d be disappointed, because he wouldn’t abandon her. Not now. Not ever. And certainly not for the sake of his mother’s precious Earth. However long he might have with her, he intended to treasure every minute, every breath, every heartbeat.
He crossed to the dining room table and swept up the book the Fallen One had left in his grocery bag. The poison of its contents—its secrets—seeped through its very cover. How he wished he had never opened it. Never read the words now burned into his brain.
That I even consider such an act . . . I cannot find words to express the horror I feel at my treasonous thoughts. And yet, what choice do I have? She is my Creator. I, her helpmeet, the other half of the whole she once was. How she could allow these creatures to come between us is beyond comprehension. Beyond endurance. If this is what I must do to put things right again . . . so be it
.
Seth shuddered. His father’s words, filled with jealousy, hatred, and yes, the absolute and utter love that had driven him from the One’s side. He’d grown up knowing the story behind Lucifer’s departure, but seeing it written in the Light-bearer’s own hand, his own words . . .
Damned if he hadn’t felt a flicker of compassion.
Maybe even one of understanding.
But no more. He strode into the kitchen and lifted the lid on the garbage can. Soft leather caressed his fingertips as the journal slid from his grasp. His parents’ history had no bearing on him. No bearing on any of this. He wasn’t part of them anymore. He was mortal, and the Fallen One was wrong. Alex was like him, and she did return his love. And he’d be damned if he’d let anyone take that away from him.
Letting the lid drop, he turned away. He had offered his help, and now he would live up to his word. He would find where the Nephilim babies were being taken. He would give Alex a reason to work with him as she did with the others. With—
He stopped. Stared at the leather-covered book sitting on the table. At the carefully carved Roman numeral II on its spine. A resounding crash sounded behind him, and he whirled in time to see a half-rotten apple roll away from the garbage spilled across the floor. Vegetable scraps, empty packaging, the withered remains of the dinner he’d made for Alex the night before . . .
But no sign of the journal he had just placed there.
A black feather drifted through the air and settled on the floor beside his shoe.
Chapter 31
Dropping her keys and coat on her desk, Alex headed for the coffee room, shooting a black look at Aramael when it seemed he might follow. He settled onto the desk’s edge, arms folded across his chest and expression neutral. She strongly suspected he humored her, but she couldn’t summon the energy to feel annoyed. After the fight with Seth, her ensuing date with the whiskey bottle, and then the call-out to the hospital scene, she had nothing left.
Hell, if she were truthful, she couldn’t even react to the scene. Three bodies, a dozen shell-shocked medical staff, enough blood sprayed across chairs and floors and ceilings to have saved a dozen lives, and for all the response she’d felt, she might as well have been watching a movie. Bell would love to sink his teeth into that little detail.
The cell phone at her waist vibrated as she reached the coffee room door. She unclipped it, looked at the display, and sighed. Jen.
“Morning, sis.”
“I’m surprised you answered,” Jennifer replied. “I wasn’t sure you’d be speaking to me.”
Rolling her eyes, Alex drew a deep, calming breath. “Really, Jen? You think that little of me? We had a minor difference of opinion the other night, and you seriously think I’d be petty enough not to speak to you?”
Silence.
“Jen?” Alex held the cell phone away to make sure the call was still connected. She put it back to her ear. “Are you still there?”
“I—you—” Jen paused. “You don’t know.”
“Know what?” Alex saw Roberts emerge from his office, scan the room, focus on her. He pointed, then jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. You. In here. Now. She nodded and held up a finger. One minute. She returned her attention to her sister, who hadn’t answered. “Jennifer, what don’t I know?”
“I thought—it’s past ten. I thought you would have found out by now.”
“I just got into the office. We had a shooting last night—” Alex broke off and shook her head. None of that mattered. Not to Jen, anyway. “Can we speed this up? Roberts wants to see me. What haven’t I found out yet?”
“You know I love you, right?” Jen asked. “And I’d do anything for you. You know that.”
The blood in Alex’s veins turned cold. Slowed to a sluggish trickle. “What’s going on, Jennifer Abbott? What have you done?”
A defensive note entered her sister’s voice. “It’s for your own good, Alex. You’ve been under so much pressure since—since the fire and everything. And I’m not the only one who’s worried.”
“Jennifer.”
“Jarvis!” Roberts still stood in the doorway. “Today!”
He turned and disappeared into his office, giving her a clear view of the desk within, the chairs in front it—and the gray-haired woman seated in one of those chairs. Alex lowered the phone from her ear and slid it closed on her sister’s rambling explanation as the woman turned.
What in hell was Elizabeth Riley doing in Toronto?
“You don’t look particularly pleased to see me.” Elizabeth Riley stayed seated as Alex stepped into Roberts’s office and closed the door. Her sharp blue eyes watched Alex from behind wire-framed glasses.
“I’m not. I mean, I am, but—” Alex paused, took a firmer grip on the thoughts milling through her brain, and tried again. “Did Henderson send you? Is he all right? What’s wrong?”
“He was fine when he dropped me off at the airport last night, and nothing is wrong.” Her lips pursed. “Well,” she added, glancing at a stoic Roberts, “nothing more than usual, anyway.”
“So you’re here because . . . ?”
“Dr. Riley is here at the force’s request,” Roberts said, and her gaze flew to his. Or tried to, except he refused to meet it. “Please. Sit.”
She remained standing, fingers locked over the back of the chair beside Riley. The force’s request? Understanding gelled. Her sister’s phone call. Jen had known about this. She’d been in on it. They’d all been in on it: Jen, Roberts, Riley, Henderson—it was a goddamn conspiracy. Alex scowled, but Roberts held up a hand, cutting her off.
“I’m going to get straight to the point, Detective. Dr. Bell went over my head to the chief. I’ve been told that you either voluntarily put yourself into therapy or I’m to suspend you.”
She actually rocked back on her heels for an instant, so startled was she by the announcement. She gaped at her staff inspector. “You’re serious. When did you find out?”