Sins of the Lost gl-3

by Linda Poitevin

  She scanned the scene. People milled everywhere. Some sat or lay on the ground, others tended the injured. Screams ripped through the air. Beside her, the wooden podium burned fiercely, its flames unimpeded by the few small fire extinguishers aimed in their direction. Sirens wailed their approach.

  She saw no trace of the pregnant minister of health—or her security entourage.

  She snagged the arm of a passing security guard. “Find some crime scene tape,” she ordered, her voice hoarse, throat raw. Her eyes watered. Goddamn, that hurt. “I want this area, the blast zone, secured. That”—she pointed at the crater where the stroller had stood—“is ground zero.”

  The guard hesitated, full of questions. Alex reached for her lapel to show her badge, but found only ragged cloth, crisp with char at its edges. Her gaze locked with Aramael’s over the guard’s head. That close? His eyes hardened. She turned back to the security guard.

  “I’m a homicide detective,” she told him. “And I need your help to protect the scene. Can you do that for me?”

  His hesitation evaporated. “Crime scene tape,” he repeated, and with a nod, he headed off at a trot.

  “I’m going to help with triage,” Alex said to Aramael. “No one is to come through this area. When the guard gets back, help him with the tape.”

  “Alex.”

  His voice stopped her midturn.

  “You’re injured.”

  She looked down at herself in surprise. At the wool coat half burned away, the scattered bits of gore—not her own—plastered across its remains, and the fresh blood seeping from beneath her blouse and both pant legs. Hell.

  She met Aramael’s gaze again.

  Then she collapsed at his feet.

  * * *

  Lucifer stopped in front of Qemuel.

  “She’s inside,” he said. “The Naphil will look for her, so leave the city. When she gives birth, take the baby to join the others.”

  Qemuel nodded. “Will anyone else look for her?”

  “Unlikely, but stay alert.”

  Another nod. Then, when he said nothing more, the bulky Fallen One strolled up the sidewalk and mounted the stairs. Lucifer watched him disappear into the house.

  So. He’d succeeded at last. Fathered the perfect child to lead his army against the mortals. He’d expected more from the victory—pleasure or excitement of some kind—but there was nothing. No sense of accomplishment or satisfaction. Not even contentment. It was as if none of what he’d done had mattered after all, leaving him . . .

  Empty.

  Used up.

  Tired.

  He seized on the last thought. Tired. That was it. He was just tired, and after six millennia of waiting and building up to this moment, was it any wonder? A little rest and reflection—and perhaps dealing with Samael once and for all—and his outlook was bound to improve.

  It had to, because otherwise—

  Otherwise wasn’t an option.

  Chapter 58

  “Detective Jarvis, it wasn’t a request. I need you to remain in Ottawa as part of our team,” Stephane Boileau said. “After what you told us today—”

  “Screw what I told you today.” Alex abandoned her attempts to button the coat someone had dug out of the lost and found for her. She pulled the garment tight around her instead and folded her arms over it to hold it in place. And to still the violent tremors that she couldn’t seem to stop.

  Shock, the doctor had told her as he’d stitched up a slice along her thigh. She’d held back a “duh” only with great effort. She had no intention of making any similar effort for Boileau.

  “That explosion had nothing to do with angels or Nephilim—” she broke off at his flinch and rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “Fine. With extraterrestrials. Better? The point is that it was triggered by nothing more than one thousand percent human stupidity. If we can’t contain that, Mr. Boileau, the entire world is screwed—with or without E.T.”

  A dull flush crept up Boileau’s neck from beneath his shirt. “May I remind you that it’s your duty—”

  “My duty is to keep the peace, not help you poke your nose into something bigger than you can begin to imagine.”

  “If that something is a matter of national security,” he spat back, “then it goddamned well is your duty to help me poke my nose into it.”

  Her fingers twisted into the coat’s fabric. The urge to fold inward and collapse onto the floor beckoned. How much easier it would be to let the doctors take over. Let them give her the sedative they’d offered, let herself slip away from Boileau and the stench of blood and burnt flesh that clung to her skin and hair. Easier . . .

  And with Michael’s words about choice sitting heavy on her conscience, equally impossible.

  She shook her head, as much at herself as Boileau, and then scooped up the mangled remains of her cell phone from the counter. “I’ve told you everything I can about the explosion and the Neph—the babies that are going to be born,” she said. “And now I’m going to my hotel room, and I’m going to try very hard to sleep. In the morning, I’m going home as planned. I will assist—long-distance—with any security plan you put together that focuses on humans. Beyond that, you’re on your own.”

  Especially where your testing of the Nephilim children is concerned.

  Boileau put a hand on the door to hold it closed. “I could have you seconded to the task force here.”

  “You could. And I could refuse to comply. And we could go back and forth through disciplinary committees and hearings and waste a whole lot of everyone’s time while the situation just keeps getting worse. The choice is yours.” Hell. Now she was starting to sound like Michael. “I get that you’re worried, but this, the part you’re most concerned about? Let it go. It’s bigger than you are. Bigger than all of us. Focus on keeping our own world glued together. That’s how we’ll survive.”

  Boileau stared at her through his glasses.

  “You know more than you’ve told us, don’t you?”

  “I know things no one should ever have to know. Trust me when I say you wouldn’t want to be me.”

  “Not even if it meant I could walk away, virtually unscathed, from an explosion no one else anywhere near me survived?”

  She froze, her hand on the doorknob.

  “One of the news crews caught you on tape,” Boileau said quietly. “You’re being replayed every fifteen minutes across the entire country. Right alongside footage from the two latest earthquakes and the volcanic eruption.”

  Alex rested her forehead against the door frame. From out in the corridor came the muffled squeak of wheels rolling by. The news? Christ Almighty, how much had they caught? Had they seen Aramael? Seen her collapse? Watched him lift her from the grass and heal the more serious wounds he hadn’t been able to protect her from?

  Boileau’s voice persisted. “That fireball rolled thirty feet past you, Detective. It incinerated everything in its path. They’re still picking bits out of the grass. People on the opposite side of the podium were injured, some critically. And yet here you are. Walking out of the hospital with—what—a couple of dozen stitches? How is that possible?”

  Alex waited for her stomach to stop churning at the reminder of the gore she’d witnessed, then she turned. Crossing her arms, she leaned against the door. “We both know it’s not possible,” she said. “So you might as well get to the point.”

  Boileau rubbed a hand over the bald spot on his head and glowered at her. “I have the best interests of this country at heart, Detective Jarvis. I’m not sure the same can be said of you. Give me one good reason I shouldn’t have you detained.”

  “I’ll give you two. One, because you’re wrong about what you’re thinking. You can test my DNA all you like; I’m as human as you or anyone else. And two, because this isn’t about the best interests of this country. It’s about the survival of humanity.”

  Before Boileau could respond or she could reach again for the door knob, the door swung inward and a nurse he
ld out a cell phone to her.

  “A Staff Inspector Roberts for you,” the nurse said.

  Alex shoved the destroyed phone she clutched into the pocket of her borrowed coat. She took the one from the nurse.

  “You can return it to the triage desk when you’re done,” said the woman. She stepped out of the room again. Turning her back on Boileau, Alex put the phone to her ear. “Hey, Staff,” she said.

  “Is Trent with you?” Roberts’s voice demanded without preamble.

  She raised an eyebrow. “I’m fine, thank you.”

  “I’m serious, Alex. Where is Trent?”

  “He’s in the waiting room outside emergency. I was on my way there now. What’s going on?”

  “Just get to him. Tell me when you’re there.”

  Something very small and cold took root in her center. “Staff—”

  “Now, Detective. That’s an order.”

  Without another word, she left the examining room, hurried down the corridor, and pushed through the doors into the waiting area. Was it just her, or was this getting to be a habit? She searched the room for Aramael, and in an extension of her déjà vu moment, located him beside the exit doors. He raised an eyebrow as she joined him. Roberts, she mouthed.

  “He’s right in front of me,” she told her supervisor. “Now what’s going on?”

  “Your sister’s been taken to the hospital, Alex. She’s unconscious. They’re doing a CT scan now.”

  In an instant, the world narrowed to the phone in her hand and the row of buttons on Aramael’s shirt. Jen.

  “Alex.” Roberts’s voice turned sharp. “Don’t you dare pass out on me.”

  “I’m okay,” she said. Breathe in. Breathe out. “What happened? An accident? Was Nina with her?”

  “Her house was broken into. The incident report says home invasion.”

  Even through the chaos in her brain, his phrasing caught her attention.

  “The incident report says,” she echoed. “What does that mean?”

  “Her door was broken in. Frame, hinges, and all. No explosion, no other signs of damage, nothing.”

  The cold in her center began a slow, sinuous uncoiling. “Nina. Where is Nina?”

  “They found her backpack. And her coat.”

  But not her. Not Nina. The world tipped out from beneath Alex’s feet. Iron hands clamped around her arms and steered her toward a chair, pushed her down. It took three tries for her to fill her lungs.

  “When?” she croaked. When did it happen? How long has she been missing?

  “We’re trying to determine that now. The 911 call came in at five thirty. If Nina was in school today, then it would have been between then and the time she got home.”

  “Who called it in? Did they see anything?”

  “One of the neighbors noticed the door coming home from work and found your sister inside. That’s all we have for now. Dr. Riley is staying with Jennifer at the hospital. She’ll call me with the results of the scan. I’m heading over to the house now.”

  She nodded. Remembered he couldn’t see her. Made herself find words. “I’ll catch the first flight out that I—”

  Aramael plucked the phone from her hand. He held up a finger to ward off her fierce objection. “It’s Trent,” he said to Roberts. “How long does it take to get from the airport to Jennifer’s house?” He listened a moment, then said, “She’ll see you then.”

  He slid the phone shut, gave it back to her, and held out a hand. She stared at it, then lifted her gaze to the cold gray of his.

  “But you’re not allowed,” she said.

  “Call it extenuating circumstances. I have a bad feeling about this, Alex. We need to be there.”

  “Detective Jarvis!”

  Alex looked around to see Boileau, cell phone to his ear, framed in the doorway through which she’d come a moment before. He shoved his wire-framed glasses up on his nose and stalked in their direction. She didn’t wait. Didn’t question Aramael about his feeling.

  Wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

  “Outside,” she told him. “It’s quieter.”

  They headed away from Boileau, out into the chill of the night, handing the cell phone off to a security guard at the entrance as they passed. Within seconds they’d rounded the corner of the building and reached a quiet parking lot away from the main traffic area. Aramael stopped where the shadows were deepest.

  “Ready?”

  She shuddered as she thought back to the time when Michael had transported her this way. One could never be ready for that. But she nodded anyway, because it was Jen and Nina, and she needed to be there. With them. For them.

  Aramael drew her tight against his chest. His wings enfolded her. A distant part of her noted that this was only the third embrace she had ever shared with him—if she counted having him protect her from the explosion—and then his body turned liquid with a molten energy that infused her, enshrouded her, became her.

  The world fell away in a rush of vibration and heat.

  Chapter 59

  When they arrived at the car in the Toronto airport parking lot, Alex held out the keys to Aramael. He took them without a word. They both understood she was in no condition to drive.

  He offered to stop by the hospital first to see Jen, but Alex shook her head. Jen was in good hands. They could do nothing for her. Nothing except find her daughter. Find one small, seventeen-year-old girl somewhere out there, in that vast expanse of city.

  She stared out at the passing lights as Aramael maneuvered through traffic. At the storefronts, cars, apartments, and houses; at the people coming and going about their ordinary lives, oblivious to the drama playing out on their very doorsteps. Even if they knew about Nina, to them she would be just another of the city’s casualties. Another teen girl missing from her home. News today, forgotten tomorrow in the rush to get to work, to school, to yoga, to hockey practice. It was the same story in every city around the globe.

  Except maybe for the part where an Archangel from Heaven had a bad feeling about the disappearance.

  Strong fingers closed over hers. Squeezed. Withdrew.

  It will be all right, the touch said.

  She didn’t believe it. She still didn’t ask about the feeling.

  “Do you want to call Seth?” Aramael asked. “He should know you’re back.”

  Seth, who would have seen the newscasts by now and would be out of his mind with worry. Seth, who would be frantically trying to reach her on a cell phone that no longer functioned.

  Seth, son of the One, and source of a thousand complications that she just couldn’t deal with right now.

  “Later,” she said.

  Aramael shot her a quick look but didn’t comment. He turned onto Jen’s street and Alex’s heart gave a shuddering thud on its way to her toes. They pulled up behind a half dozen police cars parked along the curb in front of her sister’s house. Yellow police tape stretched across the bottom of the porch stairs, and the front door stood open. No, not open. Missing.

  Aramael put the vehicle into park and switched off the engine. Gathering herself, Alex made a monumental effort to switch from aunt to cop. To shove anguish to one side. At least for now.

  Her supervisor met her in the shattered doorway. While a disappearance wasn’t within Homicide’s purview—not as long as the victim was assumed to be alive, anyway—the incident involved one of their own. He and the others would be keeping close tabs on it.

  Roberts glanced past her shoulder to Aramael. She ignored his silent question and asked her own.

  “What do we have so far?”

  “We got hold of her school principal and confirmed she made roll call this morning, but we’re still trying to reach the individual teachers for period attendance. We’re canvassing the neighborhood now. Forensics is sweeping for prints.”

  “You know they won’t find anything.”

  “It’s what we do, Alex.” He shrugged. “And maybe we’ll get lucky.”

  She di
dn’t have it in her to argue.

  Taking her arm, her staff inspector drew her to the side of the staircase. “I wanted to give you a heads-up about something.”

  “The video,” she said. She looked around at the team sweeping for evidence, at the uniform in the doorway. So far no one had paid any more attention to her than they would at any other scene. “How bad is it?”

  “Anyone who knows you will recognize you.”

  Shit. “Has everyone seen it?”

  “In the office? Most. I’ve asked them to keep quiet, but—”

  She waved him silent. It didn’t matter. “There was a man at the scene, the one who pushed the button. He was holding up a sign that said Luke 21:23. I think it might be—”

  “Luke, chapter twenty-one, verse twenty-three,” Joly’s voice intruded. He came down the stairs to join them. “But woe unto them that are with child, and to them that give suck, in those days! For there shall be great distress in the land and wrath upon the people.”

  Alex and Roberts stared at him. He shrugged.

  “Catholic school,” he said. “The brothers thought having me memorize the Book of Luke would put the fear of God into me. I never for the life of me thought it would come in handy.”

  Roberts glanced down at Alex. “Did you tell Ottawa about the sign?”

  She nodded. “They’re looking into it. I wanted to see if tech had run across anything.”

  Her supervisor nodded. “I’ll check with them when I go back to the office. Are you okay if I leave you here? Joly can stay with you if you want.”

  Alex shook her head. “I’m fine.”

  “Then I’ll start checking the incident reports for anyone matching Nina’s description,” Joly said. He hesitated, then slung an arm around her shoulders in a quick squeeze. “We’ll find her, Alex. I—”

  Aramael’s voice, a veritable growl, interrupted. “Alex.”

  She turned, took one look at the scowl stamped on his brow, and extricated herself from Joly’s hold with a mutter of thanks and a good-bye.