“Long story. You needed help with something?”
“Yes.” Michael took the hint to stay away from the mess topic. “Is there somewhere we can set up?”
Izrafel gestured to an empty spot on the bar dividing the kitchen from the living room. “Power’s in the wall.”
After Ronnie’s comment about trending, it occurred to Michael it might be to his advantage to plug into the digital world more often. That was the only decision he’d been able to make after days of poring over the conversation with her. He wished the non-stop pondering yielded more, but it was something.
He was here to get Izrafel’s help implementing a U-Lert, to warn him each time events like those of the past week popped up. Michael set up his laptop and stepped aside. He didn’t have a problem with technology, but Izrafel had a knack for searching, and this was going to require some magic research intuition.
“Tell me what you’re looking for. Specifically.” Izrafel pulled up a stool and poised his fingers over the keyboard. “We’ll build your search from there, based on keywords. It may take some fine-tuning, but we’ll figure it out.”
“Anything that’s destructive, but not a natural disaster. Isolated. The kind of thing only one of us could do.”
Izrafel’s laugh was flat and lacked humor. “I’m not sure I can make a search term from that, but I’ll try.”
“Thank you.” This wouldn’t lead him directly to others like Azazel and Vine, but it would give him a heads-up they were out there. He didn’t want to wait for something fatal to give him a direction, but he needed to jump on it immediately if it did happen.
As he watched Izrafel work, Ronnie’s words bled back to taunt him again. Before Michael set out on this seek and destroy mission, he’d spent his time finding humans and fallen angels with cherubs, and determining whether to send the cherub home, or help it integrate with the host. The decision to integrate was based on if it would drive the host insane or not. Izrafel was one of those he helped.
Michael took out Ariel and Azazel, and had tried to take out Vine. So why did he help Izrafel all those years ago and let Abaddon carry on the way she had?
On the surface, the answer seemed obvious. Izrafel never would have destroyed an entire city block, or hurt anyone. Except, as much as Michael hated to admit it, Abaddon might. She didn’t have the extra source of power now, but she took it once. There was nothing to stop her from doing it again.
Still, each of the others cost the world so much. He was right to act as he did. But would that always be the case? He realized Izrafel was watching him with expectation. “I apologize. What?” Michael asked.
“I asked if you’re looking for things like the showdown in Moscow. The garage explosion...”
“The freak tornado. The flood in Boston. Exactly.”
Izrafel’s back went stiff. “Boston was Ubiquity.”
“As in, they sanctioned it?” That made no sense.
“As in—” Izrafel’s voice rose in volume before he snapped his jaw shut. He inhaled a few times through his nose. “That one’s a bit hard for me to talk about.”
“You were there.” This got more interesting every minute.
“Yeah. I can give you an overview but I’m not ready to discuss details yet.”
As much as Michael wanted to know it all, he wouldn’t push unless he deemed it necessary in order to continue his mission. “Whatever you’re comfortable with.”
“There are agents who know what Ronnie did to Gabe. The way she drained him of his power. Supposedly Abaddon got the information directly from Gabriel. But her fury at seeing any agent hurt—whether they stood with her or not—I have a hard time believing she’d share ...” He trailed off with a shudder.
Shock raced through Michael. “She was there too?”
Izrafel nodded. “Gabe’s people know how to capture demons and angels. Bind them, so they can’t access their power. But the restraints are physical.” He furrowed his brow and clenched his fist. “They wanted to see if they could do something similar to Holden. To other prophets. Abaddon was furious when she found out they were hurting agents. She decided killing the prophets was better than the alternative. She said something about not making them suffer, and death being more surefire than cutting them off from their gift. I couldn’t watch her do that. So I took something from her. Something she shouldn't have had to begin with. It didn’t stop her.”
That explained why Abaddon looked so pale when Michael visited. The entire story chilled him to the core, and he didn’t know which part bothered him the most. “But Abaddon doesn’t work with water. Or with Ubiquity.”
“No. Her death and destruction was hands on. Tia brought the place down when it was all over. The agents fled, and the humans were already dead”—Izrafel’s voice cracked—“by the time the wave hit.”
Michael wouldn’t push for more details if it caused Izrafel this much grief. He was curious about one thing, though. “Tiamet? Petite demon, pale skin, likes to gossip, does retrieval?”
“Did retrieval. Does Ronnie’s dirty work now. Sorry—that’s not fair. But Tia does have an in with the boss lady.”
Michael had enough information to move forward without dragging out details that were torturing Izzy to recall. He could investigate the flood further, but if Abaddon and Ronnie knew about it, he’d be blocked from two sides unless one of them gave him answers. It was a chance to see Ronnie again. Taste the burnt sugar of her aura. The temptation was strong enough, it drown out any reasons it was bad idea.
Silence fell between them as Izrafel worked, weighing down the air and pressing in on Michael. Minutes ticked away. He should have scheduled this for another time, but he didn’t expect it to take so long or carry such heavy information.
“That’s odd.” Izrafel’s voice in the midst of the stillness startled Michael.
“What is?”
“There were more videos out there this morning that matched your criteria. They’re gone. No cached copies, either. They say everything is permanent on the internet. This wasn’t.”
If Michael were capable of getting headaches, one would be forming at the base of his skull. “Which means...” Someone at Ubiquity got to the videos first and wiped all traces of their existence. Would he need to go back, or re-establish connections there, in order to find what he needed? He couldn’t imagine things were better on the inside. One hand never knew what the other was doing at Ubiquity, and the odds that had changed in the last few months were low.
“Yeah. It does.”
“Am I set otherwise?” Michael asked.
Izrafel snapped the laptop shut. “I can’t test it without content, and it’ll probably return a lot more than you need, but you’ve got a starting point.”
It would do for now. It had to.
IRDU DIDN’T BLAME RONNIE for what happened at the warehouse. Not anymore. But he was still upset about the secrets she’d kept. That she’d played a part in the grieving Izzy was going through.
That each time he turned down her request to talk, she used that fucking app to vanish to some high-energy spot on the other side of the planet.
He wanted to talk to her, but hadn’t figured out what to say. So when Izzy asked if Irdu wanted to join him for dinner tonight, it was easy for Irdu to tell himself this was important. Turned out Karma didn’t appreciate his logic, because Izzy cancelled a short while later.
Now Irdu was working late, because it kept him from thinking about anything else. That was the theory, anyway. His mind was wandering so much, he’d been staring at the same documentation for half an hour.
He looked up at a knock, to find Tia standing in his office doorway. “Go home,” she said.
“You’re one to talk.” He couldn’t help but laugh at the teasing command. “Why are you still here?”
“It’s the best time to practice what I’m learning about coding. Against a real system instead of some made up thing at home. You?”
He pushed back from his desk and stood.
“I honestly don’t know. Wanna get out of here?”
“Yes. Definitely yes. Pizza. Movies. Your place, your treat?”
He shook his head, but was still smiling. “All right. Chicago or New York?”
She twisted her face in exaggerated thought. “Chicago.”
“Deal.” Less than half an hour later, after a quick phase to their favorite pizza place in downtown Chicago, they were back in his apartment. Tia loaded up Psycho, while Irdu fetched plates and soda.
They settled on the couch, but she didn’t hit Play. “Wouldn’t you rather have someone else here?” Tia asked.
“I love your company.” Irdu glanced at her sideways. Where did the question come from... Oh. She meant Ronnie.
“She’s done a lot of good things for me, so I’m biased.” Tia fiddled with the remote, staring at her fingers as they traced over the buttons. “Getting me out of Reaping. Helping me move into development. But I think you should forgive her.”
Irdu didn’t know if he appreciated her echoing his earlier thoughts. “It’s not as easy as that. She lied. She put you in danger.”
“She did keep secrets. So have we. There’s a reason she and Lucifer are the only people who know we’re related. It was my decision to stay on the job, despite her wanting to pull me. I’m as adult as adult gets. You can’t shelter me forever.”
“You’re my sister. I’m allowed to be upset that it was you in that situation. We only have each other.” He winced as the words passed his lips. It wasn’t true now anymore than when he said something similar to Ronnie. He knew she was there for him.
“You have Ronnie too.”
He raised an eyebrow, and resisted the urge to demand she stay out of his head.
“Besides, I handled myself. I survived,” Tia said. “Would you rather it was another demon in there?”
“Yes.” Without question. “Besides, Abaddon let everyone go, not just you. It’s not like sending another demon would have had a different result.”
“Exactly.”
“She almost got Izzy killed, lying to him.” Irdu switched tactics. Why was he still arguing? He still had issues with the whole thing. Logic aside, Ronnie’s attitude about it bothered him.
“I won’t argue that. Do you want to stay mad at her forever?”
He didn’t. But things needed to change.
“Call her. Talk this through with her, not me.” Tia stood and grabbed the pizza box.
Irdu reached for it and she jerked away. “You can’t take the food,” he argued.
“You bought it for me.” Her grin was impish. “Call Ronnie.”
“Fine. Go.” He shooed her out the door.
My night cleared up. Are you free? He texted Ronnie.
Her answer came through seconds later, in a series of short replies. Yes.
Definitely yes.
When and where?
He typed, My place.
The message didn’t even show Delivered yet when there was a knock.
Irdu let Ronnie in, and familiarity surged through him. Any other day, he’d pin her to the wall and kiss long and hard. The impulse was still there, but he shoved it back down.
The frown that lingered on her face, and the twitch of her fingers toward him, before she dropped her arm, said he wasn’t the only one conflicted.
She settled into one of the chairs in his living room, and he made himself comfortable on the couch. This felt so wrong.
“The funerals start tomorrow.” He should have put some more thought into how he wanted this conversation to go.
She nodded.
“Do you want me to go with you?”
Ronnie looked up, eyes wide, and studied him. “No. I need to go alone.”
“You don’t have to do anything alone. I’m here to support you. I need you here for the same.”
“I know.” Her reply came out on a puff of breath. “And I want to be. I have to do this bit by myself, though.”
“Okay.” This wasn’t going anywhere. He could ask her to apologize again, but he believed she was sincere the first several times. He needed to bring up her event-finder indulgences. This was as good a time for that as any. “How’s Michael?” Not what he meant to ask.
Ronnie’s expression almost looked pained. “Aloof.”
“And...?” Irdu wasn’t looking for any sort of confession of attraction. He knew how much Ronnie missed Michael. But the face she’d made.
She wrung her hands together. “He’s killing us.”
Irdu had to be misunderstanding. “As in, his actions are harmful in some way?”
“As in, he knows how to kill angels and demons, and he’s doing it.”
Shock raced through Irdu. That explained her look. “I didn’t think that was possible. Why? How?”
“I don’t know the how. I don’t want to. He’s trying to prevent situations like Ariel from happening again.”
“He’s not doing a great job.”
Ronnie shrugged. “Unless it would be worse if he wasn’t doing anything. Think about it—what are we accomplishing at Ubiquity?”
Irdu stared at her, stunned. “Are you saying you agree with it?”
“No. God no. I hate the idea of him killing us. I want to talk him out of it. But I like the idea of stopping the chaos. What if I could help him, and change his mind about punishment at the same time? After what he did for Izzy... What he’s done for humans...”
Irdu did approve of that. Given he’d become a demon under similar circumstances. “What if Michael had found me first instead of Lucifer?”
“You wouldn’t be beholden to a contract with an unspecified term,” Ronnie said. “But I probably wouldn’t have met you, so... tough call. He wouldn’t have destroyed you.”
“Do you know that?”
Ronnie frowned. “I have to believe it.”
He walked up to her, tugged her to her feet, and brushed his lips over her forehead. “If you trust him, I trust him.” Though, the clawing dread inside disagreed. He’d never been impressed with any original.
Did that include Ronnie?
Of course not. She was different. Except when she sided with them, despite evidence she shouldn’t.
RONNIE PHASED INTO view of the next cemetery on her list. This would be her third funeral today, but fortunately her last until tomorrow. It didn’t matter that she didn’t know these people; watching their families mourn was taking its toll.
This one was no different. Grief radiated from those huddled around the open grave. She kept her distance, not wanting to raise questions or cause problems, but for selfish reasons as well. Getting too close would suffocate her in mourning.
Something else stood out from this group, though. She didn’t recognize it at first, because the scent of pine and fresh air should be coming from her surroundings, but the underlying current of something stronger, like sunshine in the middle of the drizzle, was a feeling she wished she didn’t know this well. From her spot several yards back, she scanned the crowd, until her gaze met Michael’s. What was he doing here, with them, no less?
She should leave. He bowed his head and said something to the woman next to him, then peeled away and walked toward Ronnie. She should definitely go. The desire clawing inside wouldn’t let her. She wanted to talk to him. To dive into his arms and seek comfort. To pretend they could block out the world together. It wouldn’t happen, but knowing that didn’t stop her from needing it.
He stopped next to her, his attention fixed on the funeral.
“I’m not here to cause problems.” She kept her voice low out of respect. “These people don’t deserve that.”
“I’d never assume that, but why are you here? A sense of obligation?”
The words cut deep, adding to layers of sadness building inside from her day’s activities. “Why does anyone attend a funeral?” She didn’t want to let the edge slide into her voice, but she couldn’t help it.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” He sounded sincere.
“I knew them.”
The simple statement clenched like a fist around her gut. These men died in an explosion that turned their bodies to ash in an instant; it burned so hot and fast. “I’m sorry. Regardless of how I came across the other day, I feel for these people. For anyone involved.” She shouldn’t be explaining herself. Didn’t owe him anything. As much as she didn’t want his opinion to matter, it did. “I had Irdu pull the list of those impacted before you and I spoke. I’m not heartless.”
“I don’t think that. Give me a chance to explain what I’m doing?”
She shook her head, not sure if it was at him or herself. She wasn’t in the mood to hear whatever weak justification he had for killing. “I won’t argue with you at a funeral.”
“I’ll buy you—”
“And you can’t bribe me with lunch.” She should get back to the office. Too much work waited for her. She risked a glance sideways at his silence. She wanted to say yes. To spend time with him and get to know him. Any other old acquaintance, she’d join them in a heartbeat. But she already hurt too much to be pushed away again because he didn’t want to get close.
He wore a dry smile, and when he spoke his tone was flat. “There’s a diner down the street with amazing strawberry waffles. You don’t have to join me.”
Despite her resolve to leave, she fell into step beside him as he strolled down the street. Neither spoke. It felt like the past —breakfast before work and sharing stories of being angels before humanity was created—but drawn wrong. As if whoever witnessed it painted it in grays and browns instead of vibrant clarity.
He chatted with the hostess, their moods somber and voices low, and then pointed Ronnie toward a booth in back. The place was mostly empty. Ronnie suspected most of the town was working or at the funeral.
“Do you need a menu?” Michael asked.
“Not if they have strawberry waffles.” The scene mingled with her past. Her demon half, exhausted and frustrated thanks to the voice in her head, wandering into Izzy’s chapel. Finding Michael, the first person who had answers for her, who wanted to help. The way their relationship grew after that, and the stolen moments they managed before he left.
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