Sins of the Lost

by Linda Poitevin

He didn’t. Instead, he pushed past her and stalked to the door. He pulled it open. Then his vicious black gaze met hers over his shoulder. “You’re wrong. We’re nowhere near done, Alexandra Jarvis.”

  The door slammed behind him.

  Chapter 65

  “It’s time.”

  Lucifer watched a withered leaf drop from the tree outside the window.

  “Did you hear me?” Samael asked. “I said it’s time. The births are beginning.”

  “I heard you.”

  “I thought you’d like to come to Pripyat for their arrival. It’s what we’ve been waiting for—what you wanted.”

  What he wanted. Another leaf drifted down to join the growing pile at the tree’s base. A Nephilim army to finally do what he could not. Because pacts and agreements aside, Heaven would have always found a way to stand between him and the mortals, to prevent him from destroying them as he had wanted to do since their very beginnings. The One had never hesitated to pit angel against Fallen, might against might. But the Nephilim were different. They could not stand against the divine, and so she would not interfere with them. She would let them do as they might, let her precious nature run its course.

  An army of untouchables. The certain extermination of humanity. Everything he’d wanted for millennia, and he felt the same nothing he had when he’d finally fathered the child that would lead them. No triumph. No exhilaration.

  Just that yawning emptiness that seemed to take a little more of his soul with every passing day.

  He closed his eyes. “Has Seth agreed to your idea?”

  “I’m on my way to him now. I believe he has made his decision.”

  “Then let him take my place at Pripyat.”

  “But—”

  “Samael.”

  His aide fell silent.

  “Just leave,” Lucifer said. “Please.”

  ***

  Seth stalked the streets with long, vicious strides. He’d left the apartment hours before and had covered miles of the city. With every step he took, a little more of him unraveled, a little more fell away. Alex had been everything to him—no. She was everything. His anchor, his reason for being, his entire identity.

  From the moment he had given back her life when Aramael failed to save her, from the moment he had touched her soul to do so, she had become part of him, as vital to his existence as breath itself. Twice he had brought her back from where no other could. Twice he had connected with her on a level so deep, so profound, that they were inextricably, eternally entwined. Without her—

  The air hissed from him.

  Without her, he would cease. End. Become nothing.

  Just as his father had become nothing without his mother.

  Leaving the paved streets, he crossed the dark, sweeping lawns of a park and halted on the shores of the massive lake bordering the city. He braced himself against the biting buffet of the November wind, its chill against his skin nothing compared to the one at his core. In his head, Alex’s voice settled into the same, endless rhythm as the waves crashing onto the rocks. “There is no us. Not anymore. We’re done, Seth … We’re done …”

  He closed his eyes. Anguish warred with fury in his chest. All he had done for her, all he had given of himself, and this—this was how she repaid him.

  “We’re done …”

  “Now are you ready to listen?” a familiar voice asked.

  Seth’s eyes opened onto the dark stretch of water before him. At the corner of his vision, a shadow moved, barely discernible in the night. He considered the question. Alex would be horrified to know he’d been speaking with one of the Fallen, but he’d tried to do things her way. To follow her lead. Hell, even to see what it was about her fellow mortals that inspired such loyalty in her. And now he stood alone in the cold, without her, crumbling from the inside out.

  “You said I wouldn’t have to give her up if I took back my powers.”

  The shadow beside him inclined its head.

  With careful precision, Seth detached himself from any remaining doubt. Any lingering conscience. He’d tried it Alex’s way. Now it was his turn.

  “I’m listening,” he said.

  Chapter 66

  Mika’el was in his office when the seismic wave hit Heaven. A heartbeat later, before it had trembled to a finish, he was at the top of the stairs overlooking the great library. His gaze swept the toppled shelves, the books strewn across the stone floor, and the two dozen angels standing amid the chaos, staring at one another in stunned silence.

  Bloody Hell. Only two events could cause such an effect in Heaven. Either Seth had taken back his powers or—

  Cold gripped his gut, and he had to force himself to finish the thought. Either Seth had taken back his powers or the One had lost her grip on them. He had to find out which. Now. But before he could swing away from the banister, the massive oak doors on the far side of the hall crashed open. A Virtue in full armor burst through, white wings spread wide. She cast a frantic look around the room and stopped in her tracks when she saw him.

  “The Hellfire,” she gasped. “We can see the other side!”

  Mika’el’s fingers splintered the wooden rail in his grip. Despair paralyzed his lungs. The One—he slammed a door against the possibility. No. He wouldn’t go there. Not before he’d made sure. He felt the eyes of all present turn to him. Sensed them waiting. He spoke to the Virtue.

  “Find the Archangels,” he ordered. “I want every inch of the border inspected. I’ll meet them on the lookout mound.”

  That would give him just enough time to check on the One.

  He turned away from the gallery below and then swiveled back. “Virtue.”

  The angel, already halfway out the door again, looked around.

  “Send someone to see that the armory is ready,” he said.

  A second’s hesitation, then a nod. Mika’el cast a last glance around the room, meeting the shock in the others’ eyes. The resignation. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. They knew.

  They just didn’t know everything.

  ***

  He found the One in the rose garden, seated on the bench where they’d conversed so many times before, face turned up to the sun, eyes closed, hands folded in her lap. His steps didn’t falter as he crossed the lawn this time. He didn’t slow down. The time for being concerned about disturbing her had long since passed.

  He stopped before her and cleared his throat.

  Her eyes remained closed. “I know you’re there, Mika’el.”

  “The Hellfire fails. I wasn’t sure—”

  “My son took me by surprise, but I’m fine now.”

  “You’re certain?”

  She gave a soft snort. “Well, I’m as fine as I can be given the circumstances. How’s that?”

  He smiled even though she couldn’t see him. Even though his heart ached with a ferocity that made him want to put a hand to his own chest. “I suppose it will do.”

  The One exhaled a fluttery sigh. “He’s not coming back, is he?” she asked sadly.

  He considered lying. Weighed the possibility of telling her that they couldn’t be sure yet. Then he shook his head.

  “No. No, he’s not coming back.”

  “I’m sorry, Mika’el. I hoped I would be wrong.”

  We all did.

  “Rest,” he said. “Get your strength back. I’ll have one of the Virtues bring you tea.”

  His Creator didn’t reply.

  Chapter 67

  Alex steeled herself, opened Homicide’s door, and stepped inside. A dozen heads swiveled instantly in her direction. Shit. With it being Saturday, she’d hoped fewer people would be in. But given the state of affairs in the city, she supposed she shouldn’t be surprised. Roberts had warned everyone there would be ample overtime. A woman emerged from the file room at the back of the office. Even, apparently, for the civilian staff.

  Steeling herself for the fourteenth time since entering the elevator in the parkade, she forced her feet
to carry her into the room. She stopped at the edge of a gathering and nodded at the television they’d been focused on before her arrival.

  “Anything important?” Please, please, please don’t let it be a rerun of me surviving the explosion in Ottawa. She’d watched the newscast a dozen times last night after Seth left. It had become more damning with every viewing. Anyone who knew her would recognize her, and judging by the silence that greeted her just now, everyone here had.

  Her colleagues exchanged glances, and then Joly spoke up. “You haven’t heard this morning’s news?”

  She shook her head. She usually listened to the radio on the way into work, but not today. She hadn’t been able to tolerate the noise. Not with so much already going on in her brain.

  “The better part of New York State’s shoreline was hit by a freak wave sometime around two a.m. Up to fifteen feet in some places. There are dozens missing, including a Boy Scout troop.”

  Alex blinked, trying to process his words. “New York City, you mean?” she asked. “The coast?”

  Joly shook his head. “Lake Ontario.”

  “A freak wave. In Lake Ontario.”

  “From Irondequoit to Lost Nation State Forest. That’s where the scout troop was camping. They’re calling it a …” Joly looked to his partner for help.

  “A meteotsunami,” Abrams supplied. “A tsunami caused by weather rather than an earthquake.”

  “Except there was no storm,” Bastion added. “Nothing to cause it. Just the wave and more than a hundred miles of shoreline submerged.”

  And now she had the answer to the question that had kept her awake most of the night. Until sheer, crippling exhaustion had sucked her into sleep—around the same time as that wave had struck New York State. Seth had taken back his powers. He was gone. In spite of the veiled threat he’d made as he’d stormed out—“We’re nowhere near done”—he’d come around. Seen her point. And left without saying good-bye. Damn, but she hadn’t expected that.

  “You’re not going to pass out are you?” Joly peered at her in sudden alarm. “You just went the color of the walls. Are you supposed to be here today? Shouldn’t you be at home resting or something?”

  Alex huddled into the coat she hadn’t yet taken off. “I’m fine,” she said gruffly. “Just tired. I should go check in with Roberts.”

  Her fellow detectives stepped back to make way for her. She passed between them, trying not to feel like she was running a gauntlet. She worked with these people. She knew them. They might have questions, but she was still one of them, wasn’t she? They’d still have her back, wouldn’t they?

  Bastion’s voice stopped her. “Jarvis. What Joly told you yesterday. He’s right. We’ll find her for you. Your niece, I mean.”

  Tears she hadn’t been able to find the night before flooded her eyes. Gritting her teeth so hard they hurt, she nodded blindly, not daring to turn, and somehow found her way to Roberts’s office door. Her supervisor looked up at her tap, scowled, and beckoned her inside.

  “You look like death,” he informed her when she pushed the door open. “Why are you here?”

  “Could you stay home?”

  He sighed and waved her to a seat. “Fine. I needed to talk to you anyway.”

  Her heart stumbled. Jen? She hadn’t called the hospital to check on her, hadn’t been able to work up the stomach for it. The thought of her sister tied to a bed—

  “Jarvis?”

  She realized Roberts had been speaking to her. “Sorry, I didn’t hear.”

  “I asked who you pissed off in Ottawa. You’ve been seconded to the RCMP antiterrorism unit. They’ve set up a—”

  Alex bolted upright. “That son of a bitch. I told him I wouldn’t go!”

  Roberts, his mouth still open to speak, regarded her. Then he stood, crossed the room, and closed the door, shutting out the others’ voices, the ring of a telephone, a bark of laughter that was horribly out of place in her world.

  “Sit,” he ordered. “Talk.”

  She threw herself back into the chair, wincing at the pull of fabric against the stitches on her thighs and abdomen. “Where do you want me to start?”

  Roberts returned to the desk but not his chair. He sat on the edge, one leg dangling, arms crossed, jaw set. “At the beginning,” he said. “And I want all of it. It’s time.”

  It took ten minutes to undo all the good accomplished by Michael’s little memory-wipe trick two days before—and then some. She started with Caim and Aramael, continued with Seth and Michael and Lucifer, finished with the missing scrolls, her visit to Ottawa, and what Boileau had told her about the children at the study centers—now also missing. When she was done, Roberts remained silent for long seconds, hands on hips, staring out the window behind his desk.

  “So let me make sure I have all this straight,” he said at last. “Heaven and Hell are at war on some other plane, but the fighting might spill over to here. Seth, who you’ve been living with for the past three weeks, is the son of God and Lucifer—”

  “The One,” Alex corrected.

  Roberts shot her a dark look. “Whatever. You think he’s taken back his powers, which might have caused the disturbance in Lake Ontario last night, and gone back to Heaven.”

  She nodded.

  “And now we’ve lost track of these Nephilim children, and your niece …” He shook his head slowly. “You’re sure it was Lucifer.”

  “Positive.”

  Roberts stared out the window in silence. Then, quietly and succinctly, said, “Fucking goddamn son of a bitch.”

  That pretty much encompassed it, all right. Alex waited through another silence. She’d had weeks to pull together the details she’d just given her supervisor. Weeks to absorb the new reality of her world. He didn’t have that luxury. Roberts scrubbed a hand over his head and swung around to face her. His hands went back to his hips.

  “I think I prefer Ottawa’s alien theory,” he muttered. “At least we might have been able to fight back. But if you’re right about this, about angels and Lucifer and Armageddon—how the hell do we protect ourselves from that?”

  “We don’t. The war is between Heaven and Hell. We have no control over it and wouldn’t want to get involved even if we could. What we need to focus on is the human reaction. World Health can cry virus all it wants, but once the rest of the babies are born—”

  “Wait. There are more?”

  She thought back over her explanation and realized she’d left out that little detail. Probably because it had become so personal now that Nina—she shied away from the idea. Bracing herself to deliver the news, she met her staff inspector’s gaze as steadily as she could while wanting nothing more than to crawl under the desk and hide. From him, from the world, from the chaos, from the pain she knew still waited for her whether she found her niece or not.

  The door opened, and Bastion’s stammer preempted her. “The news—the babies—”

  Without a word, she left Roberts to trail in her wake as she followed her colleague out to join the others. She knew what she would hear before she came in range of the newscaster’s voice.

  Knew, because it had been three weeks since the alley in Vancouver. Three weeks since Lucifer had announced his plans for an army.

  Which meant the Nephilim pregnancies had reached term.

  All eighty thousand of them.

  Less Nina.

  Chapter 68

  Striding up the boulder-strewn hill, Mika’el scanned the waiting Archangels and jabbed his finger at Uriel. “Report,” he barked.

  The fair-haired Archangel didn’t so much as blink at the peremptoriness. “Major flickers along the entire length, but it’s holding. For now.”

  “Was it down long enough to get a look at the other side?”

  “Word is still coming in, but so far we think in the neighborhood of ten thousand.”

  “Ten—” Michaela’s step hitched. He stopped and scowled. “That’s a fraction of their number. Where in bloody Hell are the
other ninety?”

  “Nearly ten thousand are held in Limbo,” Gabriel offered.

  “That still puts them down eighty.”

  “Perhaps they’re just not all waiting along the Hellfire border,” Zachariel said. “We’re not keeping our entire force there, either.”

  “No, but we have a great deal more there than they have. Sam—” Azrael shot a quick look at Raphael, whose expression had gone stony, then continued. “Samael knows how we think, and he’s too good a strategist to leave their front line so weak.”

  Mika’el flexed his fingers, stiff inside their armored gloves. His glare passed over the group once, twice, and then a third time. He scowled. “Where the Hell is Aramael? Did he not get an invitation to the party?”

  “He did,” Raphael said. “I delivered it myself.”

  Mika’el considered asking if the other Archangel had delivered anything else at the same time, such as an incapacitating beating, but he refrained. Raphael had made his views on Aramael’s appointment clear, but he was still one of them. Still an Archangel. He would follow his orders to the letter, whether he agreed with them or not.

  Aramael, on the other hand—

  He’d deal with that issue later. “I think Azrael is right. The Fallen have been waiting more than four millennia for the Hellfire to weaken, so they won’t be just lounging around somewhere. If Samael doesn’t have them on the front line, where are they? What are we missing?”

  “The Nephilim,” said a new voice.

  Mika’el glowered over his shoulder. “You’re late.”

  “Verchiel had news she thought you would want.” Aramael climbed the last few yards to join them. “Some of the Guardians have reported that the Fallen are watching the pregnant women. They’re stopping them from harming either themselves or the babies they carry. Verchiel has sent word to all the Guardians to check in on their wards and report back to her, but I’d say chances are good that’s what’s keeping the Fallen otherwise occupied at the moment.”

  Of course. Lucifer would be taking no chances with his army. Mika’el stared out over the barren sweep of land below their vantage point. “If that’s the case,” he said at last, “this standoff could end at any moment. Let’s be ready.”