Aramael’s gaze bored into hers, flicked to Seth, darkened, returned. “I’ll pull back, but not all the way.”
“Damn it!”
“I won’t risk it. I can’t.”
Alex met the granite-hard inflexibility in his eyes, spun away, and went to rejoin Seth, skirting a homeless man picking through a garbage can. “Let’s just go,” she said wearily. To her relief, Seth made no objection.
This time, however, their hands stayed in their respective pockets.
Chapter 35
Mittron stared after the couple walking down the sidewalk, shock holding him immobile. The Naphil and the Appointed? How—? What—? He dropped a discarded sandwich back into the garbage can from which he’d pulled it and pressed his fingers against his skull. This newest drug might muffle the voices, but it did the same to his thoughts. Holding on to an idea for more than a few seconds took conscious effort . . . sorting through something as big as this seemed impossible.
Seth and the woman disappeared around a corner. Dropping his hands to his sides, he looked for the Archangel that had been following, but Aramael had vanished. Mittron shuffled after the couple, his pursuit of the woman automatic. Follow, watch, wait for her to be alone. Seth’s presence changed nothing. Well, it did, but it didn’t and—
He smacked his fists into the sides of his head, interrupting the thought-loop threatening to form. A woman walking toward him scurried off the curb, out of his way. He scowled. For an instant, he was tempted to step toward her, to see if he could drive her farther onto the street and into the traffic . . . No. Focus.
Follow, watch, wait for her to be alone. Follow, watch, wait—
Wait. She’d sent Aramael away, which meant she was alone. He looked over his shoulder to double-check. There was no sign of the Archangel. Hope flickered, and his heart rate kicked up. This was it. This was his chance. His gaze snapped back to the end of the block ahead of him. He sped up his shamble to a stagger and rounded the corner in the Naphil’s wake, searching for her familiar blond head.
There—beside Seth.
Seth. How—?
He clutched at his hair, pulling until water streamed from his eyes. He couldn’t take her in this state. The damned drugs were too fresh in his system. They had to wear off enough to think again. Follow, watch, think.
Half a block ahead, the Naphil disappeared into a building. The Appointed followed.
The Naphil and the Appointed? How—?
Damn it to Hell.
Despite Alex’s best intentions, lunch was an endurance event filled with long silences, stilted conversation, and the ever-present specters of Michael and Aramael. With one elbow on the table and her fist resting against her mouth, she stared out the window, her sandwich untouched, lunchtime odors assailing her. Roasted chicken, mushroom-barley soup, coffee. None stirred her appetite.
She watched a ragged man stagger past on the sidewalk, his hands clutching at his hair. Seth reached past her for the napkin dispenser. She drew back with a murmur of apology, then returned to her brooding.
Unclaimed powers, a world that might or might not survive events that went far beyond this current drama, their own struggling relationship . . . Where did they begin sorting through the chaos? Seth had lost everything because of her, and now they wanted him to lose her, too?
Expected her to push him away?
Christ.
Seth shoved the plate with his own sandwich to one side. “We need to talk.”
A woman laughed at a table in the back corner, a bray of sound that caused other patrons to go quiet and look for the source. Alex shook her head.
“This might not be the right time—”
“It will never be the right time, Alex, and we can’t continue like this. You and Heaven want me to take back my powers—”
“I never said that.”
“Semantics. Whether you want it or not, you think I should. But has it ever occurred to you—to any of you—to question the need for me to do so?”
“What do you mean? Aramael said—”
Fury sparked in his black eyes. Shit. Wrong name to drop right now.
His forearms on the table, Seth leaned toward her. “Think about it, Alex. My mother is the One, the Creator of All, and she can’t deal with this? She needs me to take back my powers because she’s not strong enough to keep them from damaging the planet? Does that even make sense? Or are you too blinded by your soulmate’s presence to see sense?”
Alex rocked back in her seat, recoiling from his viciousness, stunned by his words. He really thought that of her? And wait—could he be right about the One? When he put it like that, he was right. It didn’t make sense. The Creator of the entire universe should be able to manage this. But then why would Aramael and Michael say otherwise? What weren’t they telling her?
Christ, she didn’t know what to think anymore. If there was a shred of a chance that Seth might be onto something here, however—
“I’ll talk to Aramael,” she said. “See if I can find out—”
“What, more lies? Do you really think he’ll tell you the truth?”
“Michael, then.” She watched Seth’s mouth compress. “Damn it, Seth, we need more information. You can’t make a decision without—”
“My decision is already made.” His voice was cold. “Apparently, however, yours is not.”
Chapter 36
Seth walked Alex back to the office in stubborn silence. With every step, the few inches between them seemed to grow wider. The chasm in his heart did likewise. Try as he might to justify her words, to understand why she felt the way she did about her world, her race, it all kept coming back to one thing. If it turned out that the planet really was in trouble, she expected him to save it. To take back his powers and give her up. Give them up.
As she would do. Willingly.
Pain squeezed through his chest. He breathed around it, the words of his father’s journal burning in his memory: “How she could allow these creatures to come between us is beyond comprehension. Beyond endurance.” He shoved them away. No. Alex wasn’t like his mother, and he was nothing like Lucifer. They could still figure their way through this. If she needed more information, he’d get it for her. He’d ask the questions of Mika’el himself, find a way to make the Archangel admit he was wrong. Make him admit the One could—
Alex’s hand on his forearm sent a rush of warmth through him, stopping his thoughts, freezing his step. He looked down, even now all too willing to let go of their argument, to put things right again. Needing to do so. But her attention wasn’t on him. He peered into the alley beside which they stood, then looked askance at her.
She frowned. “I thought I heard—”
A moan. He heard it, too.
Alex dropped her hand from his arm and stepped into the narrow passage. Reining in his impatience, he followed. Yet again, another took precedence. Even if he managed to convince Alex that his decision to remain with her would do no harm—that it was the right one, the only one, to make—would they still grapple with this, her job? Would she always put others before herself? Before him? He looked down at her touch on his arm and saw her pointing with her other hand.
“There.”
A figure slumped in the shadow of a Dumpster a dozen feet away, head resting in a dark pool. Seth drew back in distaste. “Is that blood?”