Sins of the Son: The Grigori Legacy

by Linda Poitevin

  “Tonight,” he told the voice. “Rush.”

  A heavier sigh, followed by a grumble. “Why not? It’s not like I have a family to go home to or anything. Fine. I’ll send it tonight. You’ll have it by noon.”

  The line went dead. Pocketing the cell phone, Hugh frowned at Liz, who still pulled at his grasp. “Simmer down, Doc. I gave her ten minutes, remember?”

  “That was before she lost my patient again,” she retorted. “I want to know what the hell is going on, Hugh. Why are you suddenly on Alex Jarvis’s side? And what the hell did she mean about this—this friend of hers being like Seth? He told me he worked with her in Toronto.”

  Hugh drew her to the side of the hotel entrance, away from the crowd that had gathered: management, guests, cops who had responded to the disturbance of doors being knocked down and guns being drawn. He grimaced. It would take him a month of Sundays to write up all the reports he’d have to file on this. Pushing aside the thought, he focused on the irate psychiatrist.

  “Alex didn’t lose Seth, and you know it. He disappeared on his own, just like he did before.” He waved her silent when she opened her mouth to argue. “Let me finish. I think the friend, this Aramael, did work with her,” he said, “and with Seth. At least on the serial killer case. But not as a cop.”

  Liz stopped trying to tug free. Her eyes narrowed. “You’re referring to what the supervisor told you.”

  “Yes.”

  “You know that’s insane.”

  “Yes.”

  “You have no proof.”

  “I’ve requested the case files from Toronto and—” Hugh stopped and compressed his lips. He’d damn near told her about Marcus just then—had only just caught back the story of secret scrolls and divine beings and superhuman half-breeds. As good a friend as Liz might be, she was still a department shrink and wouldn’t hesitate to file a report on him if she thought he’d lost it. Which she almost certainly would if he blurted out a story like the one Marcus had told him.

  No, when he told her what the priest had said—if he told her—he’d have to make sure she was at least somewhat receptive first. In the meantime, he needed to keep her away from Alex Jarvis. He shook his head in answer to Liz’s statement. “I’m not expecting much in the way of extraterrestrial testimony, so no, I have no proof. Only my gut.”

  Liz remained silent for a long time, staring down the sidewalk at Alex and her companion. At last she shook her head. “I spend my days trying to help people who have delusions like this.”

  “Disappearing from a locked room isn’t a delusion, Liz. It’s a fact. It happened. Just like all those impossible pregnancies happened. Just like Chiu’s baby happened.”

  Just like Katherine Gray killed herself because she couldn’t handle whatever was growing inside her and Jenna Murphy may very well be telling the truth about her attacker.

  Hugh didn’t speak the last part, but Liz’s stare—weighing, considering, wavering—told him she was thinking about the other young women, too. Just when he believed she might relent, however, might allow herself to buy into even a fraction of what he had begun to suspect, she pulled free of his hand.

  “You do what you have to. I’m going back to the hospital.”

  “That’s it? Life doesn’t fit your parameters so you’re going to pretend it’s not happening? You can’t just keep running away like that.”

  “I’m not running away,” she said, “but I can’t accept what you’re saying, either. This wouldn’t be the first instance of mass hysteria, Hugh. Or mass hallucinations. The human mind is extraordinarily complex.”

  “You don’t really believe that.”

  “I believe exactly that. Science—”

  “There are some things in this world science can’t explain. Alex—”

  “Alex Jarvis is even further into this delusion than you are. I’m sorry, but if you intend to follow her down this path, you’ll have to do it without me.” Stalking away, Liz looked back over her shoulder a final time. “Let me know if…”

  “If?” Hugh prompted when her voice trailed off.

  Liz’s flat blue gaze met his. “If you decide you want to talk,” she said. “Professionally.”

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Alex led Aramael down the sidewalk to the far end of the hotel. When she’d put enough distance between them and Henderson and Riley, she stopped and shoved her hands into her pockets. A handful of pedestrians hurried past them. Even at half past seven, most carried briefcases or computer bags—stragglers leaving their offices after another long workday.

  “He’s serious about the ten minutes,” she said, nodding toward Henderson. “So start talking.”

  “It’s not that easy. There are things happening you know nothing about.”

  “You mean the Apocalypse?” She almost laughed at Aramael’s surprise. Almost—except, again, it just wasn’t funny. “Seth told me. Before, when he knew who he was. He called himself Heaven’s contingency plan, but he wouldn’t tell me anything else, so I haven’t been able to help him remember. I thought that was why you were here, that you’d come to remind him, to make him better. But I was wrong, wasn’t I?”

  “Yes.”

  The sheer simplicity of his answer took away her breath. She warned herself to stick with the issues at hand—the important, concrete ones, not the nebulous, don’t-want-to-go-there ones.

  “What happened, Aramael?” she asked at last. “What changed?”

  Aramael’s expressionless gaze met hers. He didn’t pretend to misunderstand, didn’t avoid the question. “I protected you,” he said. “There were consequences.”

  “Your wings.”

  “Yes.”

  Alex swallowed. “What else?”

  “My realm, my Creator, my powers.” A shadow crossed his face. “You.”

  “Me?”

  “I remember you as my soulmate, but that is all. What connected us is gone.”

  A knife slid between Alex’s ribs and pierced her heart. She drew a careful breath around the pain, pausing for a moment to examine it. Deep, but not as deep as she would have expected. If she’d expected any of this. Did it make her a terrible person, that she wasn’t devastated by his revelation? That she felt not just sadness, but an odd sense of relief that an angel no longer loved her with an intensity capable of destroying the world? She exhaled the breath she’d drawn.

  “I see. Will it come back?”

  Long seconds passed before, voice quiet, Aramael responded, “Knowing why I am here, would you want it to?”

  She stared at him for a moment, not wanting to answer. Not wanting to know the answer. “So I was right, then. You’re hunting him. Why? Didn’t your One send him to stop the war?”

  “She did, but something went wrong. Seth isn’t—” Aramael hesitated.

  “He isn’t Seth,” Alex finished. She leaned against the hotel’s brick wall and tilted her head back to stare at a streetlight that had flickered to life above them in the gathering gloom. “He’s not whole.”

  “Then you’ve seen it.”

  “Yes, but he’s getting better. He can communicate again, and he’s learning unbelievably fast, and—”

  “He’s dangerous.”

  Head still tipped back, Alex stared down the bridge of her nose at Aramael. “So just because an angel needs a little help, he’s being exiled to this Limbo place? That hardly seems like a Heavenly thing to do.”

  Aramael looked away from her glare. “He cannot be helped, Alex. Seth is—” He paused. “He’s like one of your nuclear missiles, already in flight and without a guidance system. The only difference is that he becomes more powerful with every minute. If we don’t stop him now, he is potentially capable of taking out the entire human race.”

  Alex blinked at the analogy. “That’s one hell of a threat,” she said at last.

  “Yes. It is.”

  “Is your One not capable of fixing him?”

  “Capability isn’t the problem.” Aramael sighed and looked d
own the sidewalk to where Alex had already noticed Henderson edging toward them. Riley was no longer with him. “Do you remember the pact I told you about between Lucifer and the One? There was a follow-up agreement that involved Seth. Under it, neither side can interfere with his intended purpose on Earth.”

  Alex estimated they had a minute, tops, before Henderson’s sideways shuffle brought him within earshot. “Will you please stop talking in circles?” she hissed. “Just tell me what the hell is going on so I can decide whether I want to help you or let Henderson arrest you.”

  Aramael’s eyes closed and his shoulders flexed. Alex looked toward Henderson again. Fifty-five seconds.

  “Seth is the One’s son.”

  She turned her stare on Aramael.

  “His father is Lucifer,” he continued rapidly, shooting his own glance toward the approaching Vancouver detective. “When he was born, Lucifer and the One reached an agreement under which, when the time was right, Seth would be reborn into the mortal realm. He was to live among you until he reached adulthood and then, through his own choices, make the final decision regarding humanity’s fate. A path of good would have required Lucifer to finally step aside and leave the mortal world alone. Permanently. Any war that might occur then would be between Heaven and the Fallen and would not involve mortals.”

  “And a not-so-good path?” she croaked.

  Aramael’s mouth drew tight.

  Holy fucking hell.

  Alex swallowed several times, trying to pull together the scattered fragments of her thoughts—and reality—when all she really wanted to do was run. Hard, fast, and as far away as she could get. Failing which, puking her guts out seemed a reasonable alternative.

  Henderson was halfway down the sidewalk.

  “You’re telling me Seth is the Second Coming?”

  A brief impatience flashed across Aramael’s face. His mouth drew tight, but he nodded. “If that’s how you want to think of it.”

  “What went wrong?”

  “His transition—courtesy of a traitor.”

  Heaven had traitors? The cop in Alex opened her mouth to ask for details, but she snapped it shut again. She already had enough information to guarantee nightmares for the rest of her life, short as that was shaping up to be; any more would make sleep itself impossible. She focused on following Aramael’s words through to their conclusion.

  “So, because he’s already an adult, any choice he makes now will stand.”

  “It will.”

  “What do we do?”

  “I find him. Stop him.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “None of this is his fault, Aramael. He’s a good man—angel—whatever the hell he is. I’ve felt it in him. Seen it. He saved my life, damn it.”

  “He remembers none of that.”

  “But I do. He isn’t responsible for whatever went wrong with his transition, and he’s recovering. Quickly. He’s held back his powers—he hasn’t once struck out at anyone, not even when he was caged up in the psych ward.” She surreptitiously rubbed thumb against fingers that still bore the marks of Seth’s grip from yesterday. An anomaly, she assured herself. Born of frustration.

  She pressed on. “He’s already learned so much. He’s trying to learn more. His mind is intact and if we can trigger his memory, he might remember why he’s here, do what it is he’s supposed to do. Isn’t that what you want? What your One wants?”

  “You care for him.”

  Alex flinched from the accusation she imagined behind the words. Imagined, because given what Aramael had told her, it certainly wouldn’t be real. Not anymore. Tucking away the velvet-over-silk memory of Seth’s voice and the feelings it stirred in her, she met her soulmate’s gaze with a level one of her own. “I owe him my life,” she said. “But that’s not what this is about.”

  Aramael regarded her in silence for a moment before looking away. “Nor does it change what must be done. If he makes the wrong choice, knowingly or otherwise, humanity will be lost. I cannot let that happen.”

  “And without him, we’ll be caught in a war between Heaven and Hell,” Alex snapped. “Seems to me the odds are pretty even at this point.”

  A few feet away, Henderson cleared his throat. “Time’s up, Jarvis. My turn to ask questions.”

  Alex ignored him and continued to glare at her soulmate. “I won’t let you take him, Aramael.”

  The exiled angel’s gray eyes turned hard and his mouth thinned. A tiny muscle pulsed in his jaw. He shook his head, a slow back-and-forth movement. “You still don’t understand, do you?”

  “Understand what?”

  “That you have no say in the matter. When I said this wasn’t mortal business, I meant it. I can’t make you help me, but neither will I let you stop me.”

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  “We’ve lost Seth.”

  Mika’el’s hand stilled and he stared for a moment at the pen he held, weariness rising in him. Some things never changed. A mere two days he’d been back in Heaven, and already he had been cast once more in the role of de facto leader—the Archangel all others went to when they didn’t want to disturb the One but needed a near-final authority. The role had never been sanctioned, but neither had it been forbidden—and so it had endured. Even in his absence.

  He raised his gaze to an agitated Verchiel standing a few feet inside the doorway of his borrowed office.

  “Again?” he asked wearily before waving away the question. “What happened this time?”

  “The woman—the Nephilim—Aramael’s soulmate—” Verchiel’s hands fluttered upward with each attempt at explanation.

  Mika’el held back a sigh. “Spit it out, Verchiel. What about her?”

  Pausing, Verchiel clasped her hands before she responded. “She reached Seth before Aramael did. Her interference slowed him and, by the time he had access, Seth had disappeared.”

  Mika’el frowned. “What does she want with the Appointed?”

  “From what we can piece together, she is trying to help him regain his memory.”

  “And we didn’t anticipate this interference because…?”

  “She lives thousands of miles from where he was found and we had no reason—” Verchiel sighed and, closing her eyes for an instant, pinched the bridge of her nose. “It never occurred to us.”

  Mika’el swallowed a biting observation about the efficiency of the new Seraph’s administration. It would be easy to lay blame at Verchiel’s feet, but it wouldn’t be just. She didn’t deserve it—not with all she’d taken on in the last weeks. Better to remain focused on the real problem of their missing Appointed. He set down the pen and sat back.

  “We must have had reports from Guardians who have seen him elsewhere.”

  “We’ve alerted everyone, but there’s nothing.”

  “Not even a hint? A rumor?”

  The Highest shook her head.

  Rising, Mika’el sent the chair thudding into the bookcase behind him. “Will this never end?” he muttered, striding around the desk.

  Verchiel leapt out of his way. “What are you going to do?”

  “Find him.” Mika’el paused to glower at her. “Preferably before Lucifer does, if he hasn’t already.”

  “Do you think…?”

  “It’s possible. But it’s also possible Seth has simply gone off on his own somewhere, and until we know otherwise, we need to be looking for him.”

  “Shall we send others to search as well?”

  “No. There’s still a chance Lucifer doesn’t know he’s missing, and the last thing we need is to alert him.”

  “But where could he have gone that no Guardian has seen him?”

  Mika’el started for the door again, speaking over his shoulder without breaking stride. “Two possibilities: a nest of Nephilim or a place where Guardians have been renounced. Since the first doesn’t exist that we know of—yet—I’m betting on the second, of which humanity has many.”

  “Wait!” Verchiel’s voice stopped him just outside th
e office. “The woman may be able to help you.”

  “The Naphil? How can she help?”

  “She was the last to speak to him, so he may have told her something. She is also a police officer, so she will know the kinds of places you mean. He could be anywhere, Mika’el. You cannot hope to find him on your own. Not in time.”

  Mika’el hesitated. Verchiel was right. They couldn’t afford to waste time in aimless pursuit. Neither, however, could they afford to further complicate matters. The question was, which path carried the higher risk? He tipped back his head against the knot of tension forming at the base of his skull and closed his eyes. Whatever choice he made, the ultimate destination would remain the same; he just had to ensure they minimized the damage incurred along the way. He unclenched his jaw and looked back at the Highest Seraph.

  “Where do I find her?”

  ALEX’S CHIN LIFTED and, too late, Aramael remembered the defiant streak in her that had both attracted and aggravated him. He knew she would take his words not as the statement of fact they had been, but as a personal challenge.

  The first words out of her mouth confirmed his misgivings.

  “Like hell I won’t stop you,” she retorted. She turned to their spectator and jabbed a thumb in Aramael’s direction. “If he so much as twitches, shoot him.”

  The man’s jaw went slack. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me. And be prepared to move fast. I don’t know how much of his power he still has.”

  “Alex.” Aramael grated the warning through clenched teeth.

  Their companion choked, recovered, and echoed, “Power?”

  “Don’t,” said Aramael, his gaze locking with Alex’s.

  She shook her head. “No. You don’t get to keep your secrets anymore, Aramael. Not with all that’s going on. Besides, given what Henderson has already heard, I’ll only be filling in the blanks.”

  “Think of the panic. Think of what your world would look like if it knew about ours, about what is going on in its very midst.”

  “If it knew God had abandoned us, you mean?”

  Aramael raised a brow, startled by the savagery behind her words. “The One has not abandoned her children.”