Soul Betrayer (Ubiquity, #2)

by Lindt, Allyson

  “Oh?”

  “You’re not an original. You’re a scared little demon, fumbling your way through more power than anyone should have, and you don’t have the confidence to convince yourself you deserve it.” Abaddon met Michael’s gaze. “I consider us done. I won’t take your calls again.”

  Ronnie’s aura flared, but before she could say anything, Abaddon vanished.

  “What was that?” Michael demanded.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  It wasn’t fair. Michael couldn’t turn on her the way everyone else had.

  The childish thought bothered Ronnie, but the day was crushing in on her and it was barely noon. She faced him but couldn’t find enough resolve inside to keep her expression calm. “Why are you taking her side?”

  “That’s not what I’m doing.” He raked his gaze over her face, sympathy hiding behind pale eyes.

  She swallowed the frustration burning up her throat. “Are you sure?”

  “We don’t need to argue. Something pointed you toward her. What was it?”

  “Samael overheard a conversation.”

  Creases deepened across his brow. “His name is on the list of people who are loyal to Gabriel.”

  “A list you got from her.” Ronnie might ask how the day could get worse, but she was afraid of the universe’s answer. “Everyone knows he works at Ubiquity. That he’s got an inside track to Lucifer. How convenient that she puts him on a list of suspects.”

  “And no one except the people who work for Gabriel know she’s been talking to me. Remind me, if you will, who trained Samael. Who taught him about deception?” Anger lined Michael’s words. The sympathy had vanished.

  She didn’t want to admit that someone she had so much history with was the one stabbing her in the back. “So... what? He’s hiding in plain sight?”

  “Yes. That’s what you people do.” He snapped his jaw shut, a hiss escaping.

  How did so few words dig so deep? “You people. You mean demons? Because everyone who wears the mantel of angel is a saint. They don’t do things like burn down large portions of Nashville or explode city blocks in Russia.” Her voice cracked, and she almost choked on tears of frustration.

  “Ronnie...”

  “What?”

  “That’s not what I meant. I need you to be rational about this.”

  A tiny whisper of reason said to listen to him. To back down and approach the situation with a cool head. The multiple weights of the day crushed it out of existence. “You need me to be rational? An unknown number of agents are working with Gabe, to bring down Ubiquity from the inside and expose all of us for whatever bizarre reason strokes his ego. They’re blowing up buildings and trying to frame me in the public eye. But I’m the irrational one?”

  “Gabriel doesn’t have exclusivity on being a childish egomaniac.” Michael’s voice rose, drawing the attention of passersby.

  The words hurt as much as Gabe driving his spear through her gut all those centuries ago. Neither she nor Michael was maintaining a shield, so people stared as their argument grew. Judgment, curiosity, and accusation radiating from those around them sank into Ronnie’s skin, feeding her emotions. “I’m sorry I’m such an irritation. I kind of thought we were on the same side, but my mistake.”

  “And that’s part of the problem. There shouldn’t be any sides.”

  “But there are. Even you think there are. I know; it was a Freudian slip and all that bullshit.”

  “I don’t want there to be. I’m not going to delude myself into thinking that makes it true.” The anger in his words faded to a sigh. “This isn’t getting us anywhere.”

  “Neither is anything else we’ve tried.” She didn’t want to back down. Frustration still burned through her, but she didn’t have a direction for it.

  “Maybe some of it will pay off in the long run.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Easy to be patient when you’ve been alive for four thousand years.”

  The corners of his mouth twitched in an almost smile, and more of the tension around them evaporated. Or his shielding them from the outside world, blocking off the emotions of the people around them, made it feel that way.

  “Take me seriously,” she said.

  “I am. This isn’t something that we have decades or even weeks to fix. What we’re doing isn’t a solution, though.”

  “But the yelling makes me feel better now, instead of later.” She forced herself to relax—pushed aside the part of her that wanted her words to carry more venom and concentrated on calming down. “And don’t you dare tell me I’m cute when I’m angry.” She choked out a laugh to show she was teasing.

  His smile grew. “You’re terrifying when you’re angry. You spark in red and black. But that’s kind of sexy.”

  “No trying to distract me with compliments.” She didn’t know if she should be flattered or pissed off. She was too tired for more anger.

  “If you don’t trust Abaddon, I’ll err with your judgment. I think you need to take a closer look at Samael, though.”

  She sank into a seat at the table, and the cool iron bit into her bare back. Now that he’d taken the bluster out of her fury, exhaustion spilled in. It was barely noon back home, but she felt like she’d lived another lifetime this morning. “I don’t want to.” The childish protest pinged through her with a heavy dose of reality. Sammy was kind. Sympathetic. Understanding. Then again, Gabe had been all of the above and tried to convince her he loved her, and he stabbed her in the back. Literally. “But I will. Shit.”

  “What?”

  “If it’s him, the damage is done. The SEC is filing charges against Ubiquity. Those videos with my face are out there. We already have a public-image problem. There’s no way to fix whatever Gabe is up to, because we don’t know what that is.” Frustration welled inside again, amplified by tiredness.

  He covered her hand with his. “Quit.”

  “I’m trying.” But the avalanche of problems was burying her.

  “Not what I mean. Though take a few deep breaths. We’ll figure out the rest.”

  She glared at him. “Vague statements followed by not what I mean aren’t helping.”

  “Resign your position at Ubiquity.”

  “I— What?” She should be offended. Outraged and pissed off, the way she was every time someone referred to her as an impostor. So why did the notion soothe her fractured nerves? This was driving her insane. “I can’t do that.”

  “I understand you’re making a difference. Keeping up with the inside track. Gathering knowledge no one else has and making sure no innocent agents get caught in the crossfire.” His tone was calm.

  His words cut through her like the sharpest of accusations. She didn’t know who she could trust, including her own judgment. She’d cost Irdu and Tia their jobs. Damn it. “I can’t.”

  “Okay. I understand.”

  “Explain it to me?” She had no idea what she was doing. Fumbling in the dark. Reacting, instead of getting there first.

  “Gabe’s resignation hurt public opinion. They’re starting to accept you. Losing a second executive within a few months won’t look good for Ubiquity. Especially with the SEC— Did you say they’re filing charges? How did they get there so quickly?” His rational words vanished in disbelief.

  “That’s what I wanted to know.” At least someone agreed with her surprise. The rest of his logic bounced in her thoughts, sounding the same as her arguments, and each time she shot herself down. “I’m not helping anyone on the inside. Those videos from L.A. have me in them, and even those people who don’t believe it’s me have questions. If I step aside now, maybe it does something good for Ubiquity. Makes them look smart. Like they have a handle on things.”

  “I’m more worried about you. Do you like the job?”

  “It doesn’t matter. It’s what I was assigned to do.”

  His brows knitted together, and he drew his lips into a thin line. “However, it isn’t what you want to do, and that does matter.”
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  She was about to snap at him for being vague and obtuse again, until the meaning of his words sank in. All demons and angels were created to help people and each other achieve their potential. Some preferred to sit behind a desk—Tia seemed to enjoy what she’d been doing, before Ronnie cost her that chance—but Ronnie didn’t like watching and not interacting. It gnawed at her soul and devoured her sensibility.

  “I don’t know what to do.” Her phone buzzed. Another message from Lucifer, identical to those before. “Whatever it is, I have to go back to the office to do it. If I’m resigning, I’m telling Lucifer to his face.”

  The conversation was a nice respite, but a to-do list ticked through her head the moment she considered heading back to work—figure out how to do damage control on the video of her, Tia, and Michael; work with Marketing to smooth over the road bumps the SEC investigation caused... She wanted to curl up in a ball and sleep just thinking about it.

  Michael stood when she did, studying her with concern. “Good luck. Be careful. Think about what I said.” He placed a finger under her chin to lift her head, then pressed his lips to hers.

  A shiver of comfort blanketed her, and a whimper tore from her throat. It was such a simple gesture. How did it hold so much power over her? Unsure she could find the right words to reply, she nodded and phased back to Ubiquity headquarters.

  Instead of going to her office, she planted herself outside Lucifer’s open door. She knocked on the frame.

  He didn’t look up. “The moment’s passed. Email me, and we’ll set up some time later.”

  “No.” She stalked into the room and swung the door shut behind her. “You said it was urgent. Enough for multiple texts. I’m here. Let’s talk.”

  “You can’t storm into my office and demand I drop everything when it’s convenient for you.”

  His tone and dismissal snapped loose the argument she reined in with Michael, but her annoyance had simmered long enough she could grasp a cold anger instead of an irrational rant. She wrapped the icy irritation around her, to keep her tone even. “Three times this morning—I won’t waste our time by counting the number this week—you’ve asked me to drop everything and meet with you.”

  He opened his mouth, but she held up a finger. “I know. Sammy wasn't your meeting, and Irdu and Tia were my fault. Technically, Sammy was too.” If she was going to have things out with Lucifer, she was laying all her cards on the table, so he didn't have any claim to her keeping one up her sleeve. “So don’t pull this bullshit. If you want to talk, we do it now, rather than you making me sit for five more minutes or hours, so you gain some sort of petty upper hand.”

  He raised his brows. “Are you done?”

  “No, but it’s a good pause point.”

  “Have a seat. My calendar just cleared.”

  “Thank you.” It was too easy, but she wouldn’t argue with having her demands met. She took the chair across from his desk. Not the one he gestured to, but rather the seat that was two inches taller, had even legs instead of one that was a hair off balance, and with no breaks or thin spots in the padding.

  He leaned in, forearms on his desk, and held her gaze. “I like to think I have a gift for reading people. Having a good idea how they'll react to a situation. Predicting what will motivate them. But every time I think I’ve got you figured out, you surprise me.”

  “Thank you?” Great. Now she was a broken record.

  “It’s not necessarily a compliment. I keep expecting you to put the pieces together faster. To be smart about this.”

  If the insult was meant to ruffle her, he'd be surprised. She’d reached the point of pissed off where his words added to the fuel, but she was past the breaking point, so there was nothing for him to snap. “If you want me to have a piece of information, you know what works a lot better than hoping I’ll decipher whatever cryptic mind games you want to play? Telling me. Send an email. Call. Text.”

  “That didn’t work for me today.”

  “Don’t. You can’t derail this conversation by pointing out single variations instead of focusing on the norm.”

  He had a neutral gaze. Not a smile or a frown. No shift in facial muscles. Not that she was surprised at the mask of nothing staring back at her or the apparent shift in topic. “How many agents do you trust here at Ubiquity?” he asked.

  The nature of the question squeezed her chest with a grip she didn’t care for. “Irdu. Tia. Michael, when he was here.”

  “Not me, then.”

  How long since he’d been on her trust list? Since he asked her to lie to Sammy? No. Since he kept her origins secret from her. Or perhaps it had always been this way. “And you. I meant to include you.”

  “No you didn’t.”

  She shook her head. “No. I didn’t.”

  “And I didn’t know if I could trust you.” A thread of hurt wove into his words. Part of the act, or was he sincere? It would be nice if she didn’t have to second-guess every gesture and nuance. “Metatron’s ties were different back in the day. She—you—and Samael were always close. I was trying to figure out if you were in on the deception.”

  “Which once?”

  He gave a snorting laugh but didn’t look amused. “It’s all the same, and it all leads back to Gabriel.”

  “You thought I might be working with him? He tried to kill me. Twice.” She had to force out the disbelief, to ignore the way Gabe’s name crushed in around her, trying to steal her thoughts and reason.

  “You and he were the only ones there the second time. I couldn’t be sure... I’m sorry.” Lucifer turned his gaze to his clasped hands. “I didn’t want to believe it, but things have been falling apart at the seams for decades, or longer. And you protested so much, demanding information when I asked you to keep everything quiet. You’re not the only one doubting their colleagues.”

  Sympathy and hurt warred inside, and she wasn’t sure which to give attention to. The first time Gabe tried to kill her it was intended to drive the four originals apart. Turn Lucifer against Michael, and leave Gabriel as the last power standing. He’d probably love to hear it was about to happen without anything drastic on his part—except making Ubiquity crumble from the inside out.

  “Yes, I told Samael what you were keeping from him,” she said. “Because I hated being left in the dark, and I didn’t think he’d like it either. It wasn’t an attempt to subvert you.”

  “Technically, that’s exactly what it was. But I hoped you would.”

  Because if she had to tell Samael anything, it meant she believed he didn’t already know. Which also meant... She frowned. “So he is part of this mess.”

  “Ninety-nine percent sure.” Lucifer pinched the bridge of his nose. “I hoped it wasn’t true, as much as I wanted to trust you. Gabriel has always known how the money flows here; he and I set it up. And before you go off on a tangent, I know we blurred lines. That’s not the point.”

  She thought it was very much the point. If the evidence wasn’t there, it would be a lot harder to make the charges stick. Or not. Wow. This corporate-finance stuff was screwed up. Mix in a handful of vengeful angels and demons, and it was a convoluted mess. She kept the thoughts to herself, rather than disrupt the answers she was finally getting.

  “I figure it played out something like this,” he said. “The SEC is tipped off by Samael or Gabriel, or it doesn’t matter who. But a tip isn’t the same as evidence, and they have processes to follow. If you were in on things, it would be easy enough for you to say as an executive you had inside knowledge of illegal happenings. That’s the proof they need. As it was, Samael had to wait for you to confirm.”

  Something wasn’t right about his logic. “But Samael is in charge of the books. Top of the ladder. Why couldn’t that information come from him in the first place?”

  “He didn’t want to tip his hand too soon.”

  “But if I were complicit, I would have?” She’d be insulted at the implication she wasn’t as clever as Samael, but this went dee
per. Lucifer was covering more up.

  He stood and walked to her side of the desk, then leaned against it, which brought him close enough to grasp her fingers. “The point is you didn’t tell him until I told you. Even then, you hesitated. I’m sorry I doubted you. I’m glad I didn’t need to.”

  “I wish I could say the same.” She pulled from his grasp and stood, putting distance between them. He was still lying to her, hoping she wouldn’t put the pieces together. Or hoping she would? He was dealing doubletalk with more of the same, and she was tired of guessing which words had a twist, or two, or none at all.

  There was no one thing that gave him way, but everybody had tells. The twitch of his fingers, the way his gaze tugged toward the ceiling, and the too-smooth assurance in his voice all added up to a lie.

  “Ronnie?” He had the gall to look wounded.

  This was too much. Not only his deception. Maybe he’d been lying so long he didn’t know any other way. “Don’t.” She took another step back as confusion snapped into a giant glob of confusion in her skull. “Everything you’re doing at Ubiquity is a joke. Not the funny ha-ha kind, either. It’s some sort of who has the biggest celestial weapon contest between you and Gabriel.”

  “Is that how you see this? You’re missing so much.” His tone was smooth and condescending.

  “Stop. If I’m missing things, it’s because I haven’t been told. It’s not reasonable to expect me to puzzle out every bizarre deception that tickles your fancy. Even if I could, the two of you are screwing with everyone. Agents want these jobs—they enjoy this chance to help—but you’re pitting them against each other. And humanity? I don’t think they factor into your equation. That’s wrong on about every single level it can be.”

  “That’s not what’s going on.” Lucifer’s impassive mask returned. “I brought you in to help undo the damage Gabriel did here. To fix those exact things you’re talking about.”

  “No. You brought me in hoping I’d be easy to manipulate. I haven’t done any good here. I don’t come into the office half the time. Irdu covered my ass because...” Because he loved her. But there was more. Because he saw what she refused to. The founders never meant for this to be a joint initiative. Ubiquity was never intended to make it easier for heaven and hell to work together, but she played it off like it was. She didn’t know why it really existed, but Lucifer wouldn’t tell her that. “I can’t be a part of this.”