Sins of the Lost (19 page)

Chapter 51

“You wanted to see me?”

Lucifer looked up at the owner of the rumbling voice, a former Virtue whose massive form filled the doorway. “Qemuel. Come in.”

Qemuel’s gaze flicked to the bloodied bundle of rags in front of the fireplace. Then, with a shrug, he strolled over to stand before Lucifer’s desk, his hands folded loosely before him. Every inch a thug, he had always done what was asked of him without question. Unlike certain other Fallen Ones.

“I have a task for you.” Lucifer tipped back in his swivel chair. “The Naphil you were tracking for Samael a few days ago—do you remember her? Where she lives?”

“And where she works.”

“Excellent. I want her sister.”

“Dead?”

“Alive. Find her, then come and get me.”

“I thought Samael was watching her now.”

“So did I. If you run across him, make sure he doesn’t see you.”

The former Virtue raised an eyebrow, glanced again at the rags, and unfolded his hands. “Done,” he said. “Should I send someone in to clean that up for you?”

Lucifer looked over at what remained of Raziel. “Thank you, but no. I’m not done with it yet.”

With a last shrug, Qemuel ambled back out the way he’d come in.

***

Seth stood up from the computer and stretched tall to rid his back and shoulders of their kinks. How mortals put in entire days sitting at one of these was beyond him. Why they did it, even more so. He glanced at the clock. Ten fifteen. Alex would be in Ottawa by now.

With Aramael.

He shoved away the insidious thought. He wasn’t going there anymore. Not after last night. Just as he wasn’t reading any more of the trash his father had written. His gaze fell on the journal lying on the dining room table where he’d placed it after Alex’s departure. It hadn’t been replaced, hadn’t moved.

“Wherever you are,” he said to the empty room, “you were wrong about her, so you might as well come and get your damned book. I’m through playing your little game.”

The doorbell rang.

He stared down the hall. The Fallen—? Giving himself a mental shake, he started for the door. Of course it wasn’t the Fallen One. The too-polite Mika’el, maybe, but not his supremely confident visitor. He pulled open the door.

“Jennifer?”

Alex’s sister studied the door frame. “Is she here?”

“She’s in Ottawa—did she not call you?”

Jennifer’s looked up and then away again. “No. She’s not answering my calls or my texts.”

“She’s been—”

“Oh, don’t you start, too.” She glared at him. “I’ve seen the news. I get that she’s busy, and I get that she’s angry with me. She has a right to be. But she has no right to take it out on my daughter. She could have at least called to tell Nina she couldn’t make it last night.”

“I’m sorry, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Jennifer puffed up like an angry Cherub. “It was my daughter’s seventeenth birthday dinner last night, Seth. Alex promised her she’d be there. You were both supposed to be there.”

“I’m sure she just forgot.”

“That’s the point. Oh, never mind.” Jennifer threw up her arms in disgust. “Just tell her she owes Nina a massive apology for this. Assuming she can spare her family two minutes away from saving the world.”

Seth watched Alex’s indignant sibling march down the corridor and around the corner to the elevators. He’d never imagined connecting with Jennifer on any level. Odd how he actually found it comforting to know he wasn’t the only one struggling with Alex’s heroic tendencies. About to close the door, he paused as a movement near the end of the hallway caught his attention. He narrowed his eyes. The Fallen One, come to retrieve the journal?

But the man stepping out of the shadows and pushing open the door to the stairwell was a stranger to him. A great, hulking stranger, perhaps, but unknown nonetheless. Seth shoved away the last threads of paranoia and closed the door.

Chapter 52

Samael scuffed a toe against the crumbling stone path. What was taking Raziel so long? He shivered in the damp chill. Lucifer never had managed to get the temperature right in this godforsaken place. Or much else, for that matter. The only creature comfort to be found in all of Hell was in front of one of its many fireplaces. Perhaps Seth would have more luck.

And more interest.

He peered down the path. Raziel’s message had said urgent, but if she didn’t show up in the next five—

A wad of rags sailed out of the trees and landed at his feet. Samael stepped back, wrinkling his nose at the stench of urine and feces rising from the pile. And was that blood he smelled? What the—

“I believe that’s yours,” a voice said, its very neutrality making it sound deadly.

Lucifer.

Ice shot through Samael’s bowels.
How
—?

“You really should choose your help with more care, my friend.” Polished black shoes came into view beside the bundle. “She didn’t even try to hold back.”

One of the shoes prodded at the pile. A pale, slender arm flopped out of the folds and onto the path. Samael closed his eyes. Bloody Heaven. Raziel. Samael was as good as dead. Footsteps circled him. He went rigid, waiting for the first blow. Lucifer chuckled.

“You think I’d make it that easy for you, Archangel?” His voice had gone soft. “Oh, no. I want to know things first. Such as what it is you’re up to, who else is in on it, whether you’ve managed to disrupt my plan—”

“Your precious plan,” Samael snarled, his eyes snapping open.

Lucifer went still. Marble still. He tipped his head to one side, purple eyes curious. “Have you always had such an inordinate desire for pain, or is this relatively new?”

A bead of sweat trickled down Samael’s temple, trailing cold in its wake. “I only meant—”

“I know what you meant.” Lucifer resumed his slow circling. “We haven’t seen eye to eye for quite some time now. In and of itself, that’s not such a bad thing, really. I think it’s quite healthy for two intelligent beings to disagree on occasion. My problem—” The footsteps stopped directly behind Samael, and warm breath stirred against his ear. “My problem lies with your continued inability to recall which one of us is in command here, Samael. Especially after I’ve already reminded you. Twice.”

Cruel hands clamped down on his shoulders. “Now, why don’t we—”

“Lucifer,” a new voice rumbled.

Lucifer’s hands squeezed, sending pain streaking through Samael and felling him to his knees. “This had better be—” The hands dropped away. “Qemuel. You found her already?”

“It wasn’t difficult.”

“You hear that, Sam?” Lucifer grabbed Samael’s chin and twisted it up and around until he looked him in the eye. “It wasn’t difficult. That makes me wonder what your problem was all this time, you know.” He released him again with a pat on the cheek that snapped Samael’s head sideways. “We’ll take this up again later, Archangel. And if you were thinking of running, please, be my guest. It will make this much more interesting—and we both know I’ll find you.”

Terror—utter, paralyzing terror—robbed Samael of the capacity to stand after Lucifer’s departure. Long minutes dragged by, more than he cared to acknowledge, before he felt the blood return to his veins, the tone to his muscles. He dragged himself upright. He’d expected Lucifer to find out eventually, but not this soon. He wasn’t ready—Seth wasn’t ready. Another few days . . .

He stared at what was left of Raziel. He didn’t have a few days. A few hours, maybe—or as long as he could stay ahead of Lucifer—but that was all. If he was going to pull this off, somehow he had to find the words to tip Seth over the edge
now
.

He stepped over the fouled clothing, past the pale arm. He’d speak with Mittron first. The Seraph’s plan to cause Armageddon in the first place had more than demonstrated his ability for scheming. Maybe he could be of more use than just unlocking the gates of Limbo.

Assuming the drugs hadn’t fried all his brain cells by now.

Chapter 53

Alex closed the meeting room door behind her and headed for the elevator. Aramael fell into step at her side as she passed the waiting area. She felt his gaze on her, but he remained quiet. Blessedly so, because she was in no way ready to share all that she had learned in that meeting. She still hadn’t processed it herself.

The elevator doors slid open at the touch of a button, and they stepped inside. She took her cell phone from its holster and dialed her voice mail. Four messages. One from Roberts, reminding her he expected a call; three from Jen the previous day. At each sound of her sister’s voice, Alex pressed the button to skip the message, swallowing her guilt at doing so. She just couldn’t deal with Jen on top of everything else right now.

Alex returned the cell phone to its case and closed her eyes, letting her head drop back against the wall.

Aramael’s voice broke into her attempt to stop thinking. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”

“Ask your Guardians.”

“I could, but it would save time if you told me yourself.”

She remained stubbornly silent. Aramael’s clothing rustled as he shifted position. The elevator continued its descent, bumping past another floor.

Lifting her head, she regarded him. “Why are we bothering with this?”

“Bothering with what?”

“Any of it. Tracking down the Nephilim, convincing Seth to take back his powers.”

Sudden interest gleamed in Aramael’s eyes. “You’ve decided to help with that?”

Trust him to zero in on that rather than the question. She scowled. “I’m serious, Aramael. What’s the point of any of it? Humanity has never been so far advanced and so far behind all at the same time. We’re consuming more than the Earth can produce. We’ve created enough weaponry to destroy ourselves several times over. We’re pushing the limits of our very existence—hell, the whole goddamn planet’s existence—past the point of no return, and we know it, but we’re too goddamn arrogant
to care. What, in all of that, is worth saving?”

“Not all of you are like that.”

She snorted. “There are more than seven billion of us, Aramael. Expecting a handful to be able to sway the masses is like asking us to empty the Atlantic with a teaspoon.”

The number three over the elevator doors glowed red, then the two, then the letters
RC
for
rez-de-chausée
. Ground floor. The elevator jolted to a stop.

“Maybe this entire war is too late,” she said wearily. “Maybe Lucifer has already won.”

“You wouldn’t be doing what you do if you believed that.”

“Being a cop, you mean?” She snorted. “Most days that only makes me wonder more.”

The elevator doors slid open, and she stepped out, Aramael close behind.

Alex turned up the collar on her coat against the frigid wind and pulled gloves from her pockets as they emerged onto the street. At least the rain had stopped. Turning right, she headed toward Parliament Hill.

“The Nephilim children that have already been born are missing,” she said. She stopped at the intersection and gazed across the street at a majestic stone building rising from an expanse of lawn, flanked on either side by similar buildings, together forming the seat of the Canadian government.

Her companion’s stride faltered. “You’re sure?”

“Only the governments that will admit to having held them for study in the first place are confirming, but yes, we’re pretty sure. I’m assuming it’s not Heaven rounding them up.”

“You know we won’t interfere like that. It’s most likely Lucifer. He’ll want to control their upbringing.”

“Hard to say which would be the lesser of two evils,” she muttered. At Aramael’s raised eyebrow, she elaborated, “Between Lucifer controlling them or humans. The end result would be pretty much the same, I expect.”

“Then the children . . . ?”

“Were exhibiting unusual traits. Superhuman, violent ones. My fellow mortals wanted to control their abilities, with an eye to weaponizing them. Only because other governments were doing so as well, of course.” Sarcasm laced her words. “Self-defense, you know.”

The crossing signal changed, and she stepped off the sidewalk. “The entire globe is coming apart at the seams, and we’re still worried about one-upping one another. Right now, however, the question is where the hell is Lucifer taking them? There’s another eighty thousand on the way. Where’s he going to put them all?” She threaded through the oncoming pedestrians. Maybe Seth would come through with some information for her before he—well. Before.

Leading the way past the barriers, she entered the grounds of Parliament and skirted the crowd gathered on the wet grass. Atop the Peace Tower, the Westminster chimes tolled from the clock, marking the hour as 1:45. Fifteen minutes until speech time.

“Did you tell them about the other babies?” Aramael asked. “The eighty thousand?”

“Yes, though I’m not sure they believed me. They wanted to know where I got my information. I declined to tell them it was from Lucifer. They want me back for another meeting this afternoon, after they’ve tried to figure out whether I’m right. They also want to discuss what to do about you.”

“Me?”

“
You
as in the angels and the Fallen.”

Aramael caught her arm and drew her up short. “You told them about us?”

“They already knew. Did you really think they wouldn’t? They have DNA tying the babies to Caim’s claw, children being born who have powers no human has ever had, and six-thousand-year-old scrolls documenting precedence. The Nephilim have happened before, remember?” She jerked free and continued toward the sweep of driveway between Parliament and the lawn, the elevation of which would give her the best vantage point. “If it’s any consolation, however, they’re calling you extraterrestrial beings—angels not being real and all. I didn’t correct them.”

“Thank the One for small miracles,” Aramael muttered. “And what are we doing now?”

“The federal minister of health is giving a speech. They’ve decided the best public explanation for the pregnancies is still an unknown virus and that putting visible measures in place will reassure people. They’re announcing a Canada-wide prevention program today, including quarantine for pregnant women in their first trimester. I want to gauge public response.”

She held out her badge to the uniformed RCMP officer standing at a wooden barricade. He nodded and allowed her to pass, but held a hand out in front of Aramael. For a moment, temptation beckoned, then Alex sighed.

“He’s with me,” she told the other cop tersely, and without waiting to see whether or not he believed her and let Aramael through, she stomped up the driveway’s incline.