Sins of the Son: The Grigori Legacy (28 page)

She broke off, shooting a quick look at Seth. He didn’t know about the assassination order yet and, in her opinion, never needed to. Despite the fact she had all but announced the fact in front of both him and Lucifer just a few minutes before. Tightening her jaw, she looked at Michael and amended, “Knowing what you planned to do. And you’re okay with the idea.”

“I didn’t have an alternative.” Arms folded across his chest, Michael glared at her, his accusation clear. “But please, if you have any better ideas on how to run the universe, I’m all ears.”

Alex bit back an invitation for him to go screw himself—not, she hazarded, the kind of thing one said to an Archangel, especially when he was right about this predicament being her fault. If anything, she owed him an apology for announcing his intentions to Lucifer. But how the hell did
one even begin to apologize for a mess of this magnitude? Far better to try to fix it. She raked her hair back from her face. “After all I’ve heard about Lucifer, it just doesn’t sound like the kind of thing he’d do, which makes me wonder what he’s really up to.”

A flicker in Michael’s gaze suggested he knew something he wasn’t sharing, and his sideways glance at Seth said this wasn’t the time to ask. Curbing her impatience, Alex switched tacks. “How do we know he won’t go after Seth the minute you turn your back?”

“We don’t.”

“But you’re still not staying.”

“He wouldn’t agree to that. He did, however, agree to Aramael.”

A little of the air in Alex’s lungs left in an audible hiss. She swallowed. “Aramael? But he has no powers. How—?”

“In the interests of
peace
”—Michael bit out the word—“the Light-Bearer has also condescended to allow the return of some of Aramael’s powers to him. The Power will be permitted to watch the Appointed to ensure none of the Fallen Ones approach or try to interfere until he is ready to make his choice.”

Alex fell silent, digesting the idea. Sifting through its implications. Aramael, staying with them. Remaining close. Watching over her once more. She brought her wayward thoughts up short. No. Watching over Seth, not her. This had nothing to do with her.

Seth cleared his throat. “We could avoid all of this,” he said. “I’m happy to make my choice now in favor of humankind.”

Alex’s heart gave a leap. Why hadn’t she thought of that?

But Michael shook his head. “I wish it were that simple, Appointed. Unfortunately, you are not ready.”

“I don’t understand. I know what I want.”

“The choice isn’t something you make with your mind, or even your heart,” Michael said, “but with your essence. Your soul. It will happen instinctively, unconsciously—and without your control.”

“How long will that take?” Alex asked.

“We cannot say. It could be hours.” Michael looked at her. “Or it could be weeks or months.”

Weeks or months of living in a state of limbo? Of not knowing if humanity would continue or be crushed by Lucifer’s army?

Seth’s hand settled on her shoulder. “Are you all right? Your skin has changed color.”

Squeezing Seth’s hand, Alex forced a smile. “I’m fine. It’s just a lot for us mere mortals to take in, that’s all.”

A glance at Henderson backed her up. He looked as pale as she felt, maybe more so. And he didn’t even have to cope with the soulmate aspect. His gaze met hers.

“You’ll need somewhere to stay. I have a spare room. Nothing fancy, but it’s yours if you want it. He”—he nodded at Seth—“can have the couch.”

Politeness dictated she decline. Weeks or months seemed far too much to ask. Reality, however, gave her pause. After the busted-down-door incident, she doubted the hotel would welcome her back. Even if they did, she couldn’t afford to remain there—or in any hotel—indefinitely. Henderson’s offer would at least give them somewhere to stay long enough to figure out their next step, maybe even to arrange taking Seth back to Toronto with her.

“You’re sure?” she asked.

Henderson met her gaze, his hazel eyes steady. “I have never been more sure of anything in my life,” he replied. “Or less so. Come on, I’ll take you and Seth back to your car.”

He started down the sidewalk, Seth by his side, but when Alex made to follow, Michael held her back. “There’s one last thing I need to speak to you about.”

“If it’s Aramael, you can stop worrying. Whatever I might feel for him, I’ve no intention of following through on it. Something about the end of the world being nigh has dampened my enthusiasm.”

Michael fell silent for a moment. Then, his voice quiet, he said, “The soulmate system isn’t perfect, Naphil.”

Her gaze flew up to meet his again, but now it was his turn to look away, into the distance. She frowned.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Sometimes the soulmate you’re destined to have isn’t the best match for you. Sometimes…” He paused. “Sometimes lives are too separate. Too much has happened on each of your individual paths, too many responsibilities get in the way, too many choices are made by one that the other cannot agree with.”

Alex looked down the street to where Seth and Henderson had stopped to wait for them beneath a streetlight. She met Seth’s dark gaze, watched his brow furrow. Could he hear what Michael was saying?

“He hears nothing. I’ve made sure our conversation is private,” Michael said, and again she wondered if he could read her thoughts. “You’re the only one who should decide who to be with,” he continued. “The only one who
can
decide.”

She swallowed. “What are you saying?”

He expelled a long gust of air. “I’m saying Seth needs you, Naphil. More than Aramael ever can or will.”

She gaped at the Archangel. “But he’s—I’m—It’s—”

“Forbidden? Normally, yes. But these aren’t normal times. Right or wrong, the Appointed loves you, and if you can see fit to return his love, it may well save your race.”

Alex scowled. “Forgive my skepticism, but who the hell do you think you’re kidding? A few hours ago you told me my involvement with an angel
caused
this whole mess. Now you want me to believe getting involved with another will clear it up again? Make up your mind, Michael. You can’t have it both ways.”

A dark flush stained the Archangel’s cheeks. He looked away. “I may have been wrong to blame you, but—”

“
May
have?” she interrupted.

“
But
,” he continued, his eyes glittering, “it changes nothing. I need you to do this.”

“Why should I trust you? If you’ll sink to the level of blaming me for causing fucking Armageddon, how far will
you go? No.” She shook her head. “I won’t let you turn whatever may or may not be between me and Seth—now or in the future—into another means to your end.” Pushing past the Archangel, Alex started toward Seth and Hen-derson.

Hard fingers seized her arm, spinning her around. Michael glared down at her. “He gave up who he was for you,” he snarled.

Shock rendered her speechless for a moment before she found voice enough to stammer, “He—what?”

“He tried to give up his responsibility, his powers, his destiny—everything—because he had fallen in love with you. The transition was altered at his request so he could be mortal. So he could be with you.”

Alex stared toward Seth again, her mind numb. No. It wasn’t true. Couldn’t be true. The son of the One and Lucifer had abdicated his place in Heaven because of her? Such a thing wasn’t even in the realm of possible.

Then why did he know me when I arrived at the hospital? Why was my name the first thing—the
only
thing—he spoke? Why did he follow me to Riley’s office? Trust me so implicitly? Ask me if I was a magnet?

Oh, dear God.

Michael’s grasp tightened. She glanced down at his fingers on her arm and then back up into the emerald eyes, softer now, with a hint of the compassion she’d seen in him before.

“How?” she asked. “Why me? First Aramael, now Seth. What is it about me that made this happen?”

“I’m not sure. Something in the Nephilim line from which you come that has survived time, perhaps. But whatever it is, you need to use it. You need to make it work for us.”

“You mean I need to use it against Seth.”

“For him,” Michael corrected. “He wants this from you. He is weak, Naphil. He needs you to make him strong.”

For a moment, Alex considered it. There was, after all, something already there. A pull between them, a magnetism.
How difficult would it be to actively pursue what lay beneath that attraction for the good of humanity? But even as the idea crossed her mind, she rejected it.

“No.” She shook her head again, this time with purpose. “I disagree. He’s stronger than you think he is and I won’t use him like that, Michael. It would be wrong—and it could very well backfire on us if he found out.”

“Naphil—” he began.

Alex cut him off, her voice hard. “I said no. I’ve already done enough damage in this whole fiasco. I’ll be damned if I’ll risk adding to it.” She shook off the Archangel and started toward Seth again but spun back after only a few steps. “Oh, and by the way?”

Michael waited.

“My name is Alex, not Naphil. Get it right.”

V
ERCHIEL JUMPED AS
the office door crashed open and the Archangel Mika’el’s presence—and seething fury—filled the room.

“He knows,” Mika’el grated. “Lucifer knows.”

Verchiel blinked. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“That’s because no one is
supposed
to know,” the Archangel spat, coming into the room and slamming the door shut behind him with enough force to split the oak from top to bottom. Mika’el glared at the door, then at Verchiel. “No one,” he reiterated with a growl. “And yet the Light-Bearer does.”

The Archangel paced the carpet in front of Verchiel’s desk, shoving a chair out of his way. She waited, telling herself it was to give him time but knowing it was because she dreaded what he would say. Two full crossings of the room. A fist driven into a wall. A snarl of frustration. Then Heaven’s greatest warrior rounded on Verchiel and, in a few terse words, shattered her world.

“The One cannot stop Lucifer without sacrificing herself.”

The room fragmented into shards of sound and light. Dust motes floating in a ray of sun. The rush of blood in her ears. Mika’el’s bleak emerald gaze. The sound of his ragged breathing.

Whatever she expected, it hadn’t been that.

“That cannot be,” Verchiel murmured finally.

“It can’t, but it is. When the One created Lucifer, she intended him to be a partner, a helpmeet. She made him very near her equal. Doing so required a significant portion of her own power to be transferred to him. So much that the only way to stop him is to bind their energies together.”

“Meaning…?”

“Meaning he would cease to exist on a physical level. And so would she.”

Agony shafted through Verchiel’s core. An agony so complete, it stole her very sense of self. A world without the One. A universe without its Creator. No word existed to describe how impossible the concept was. How unbearable.

“She would never do it,” she whispered.

Mika’el stalked to the window and leaned his hands on the ledge. He stared out into the gardens, his face dark.

“Mika’el?”

“She already considers the possibility,” he answered at last.

“Then you must stop her.”
You
, not
we
, because they both knew that only Mika’el was strong enough to stand up to the One. Verchiel lifted her chin. But she could help. “What can I do?”

He met her gaze over his shoulder. “I find myself in an untenable position, Verchiel. You might want to reconsider before you ask to join me there.”

“There is no consideration necessary, Mika’el. I love her as much as you do. Tell me.”

The Archangel regarded her a moment longer before looking back out into the garden. “Lucifer insists the agreement remain in place.”

“But he will continue to build—”

“The Nephilim army, I know.”

“The One—”

“Doesn’t know. She cannot.”

Verchiel’s inhale this time was involuntary, making her cough. “You’re not going to tell her?”

“Now you understand why my position is so untenable.” Mika’el turned at last from the window, leaning back against the ledge and crossing his arms.

“Is there
any
way out of this?”

Mika’el sighed raggedly. “I thought if we struck the first blow, we could weaken Lucifer enough to remove him as a threat, at least for several thousand years. It would have given us a chance—given
her
a chance—to come up with another solution. Unfortunately, we no longer have that option.”

Verchiel stared at him. How had Heaven ever come to this? How could she not have seen what was happening? All those moments when she had witnessed something more than sadness in the One, something more than she understood, and she had never said anything. Never asked.

“About all we have working in our favor at the moment is Seth having fallen under the influence of the Naphil,” Mika’el continued. “She may yet be able to persuade him to choose in our favor. That would at least buy us some time.”

“To do what?”

He raised bleak eyes to her. “I don’t know.”

She nodded, an odd calm stealing over her. “If you’re wrong, if Seth should choose against us…”

The Archangel’s jaw went tight and his gaze slid from hers. “I won’t let that happen. But I need your help, which means you need to make a decision.”

“Tell me what you need.”

“Send for Aramael.” He dropped a parchment, taken from the folds of his shirt, onto the desk. “This will restore some of his powers. He is to watch over the Appointed.”

She stared at the roll. At the seal of the Office of the Archangels holding it closed.

“It’s not as refined as hers, but it will do what it needs to do,” Mika’el said quietly.

“They—all of you—?” She looked up. Only working together, with all six in agreement, could the Archangels have raised the kind of power needed to restore another’s abilities.

“They’ve decided, too. We’re going to save her, Verchiel. We must.”

She swallowed. “And when she realizes that Seth lives? What we’ve done? Acting on our own like this, Mika’el, it amounts to—” She broke off, unable to make herself say the word.