Raphael laughed. “One minute, you can’t separate them without defending screams, the next, they’re in a mini-fistfight. This will be a very interesting household when they get older.”
Jett took a chair at the table next to Lark and studied the computer screen. Time to learn the neighborhood around the house in Morgan, as well as the medical center, develop a plan, and get on the road.
Heads up, Lawrence, you fucker. I’m coming for you.
…
Lawrence drove north through Vermont to Morgan, the little town where his daughter-in-law had lived before she’d met his son. Why she insisted on living all the way out here when she had a perfectly good home near the medical center still escaped him. She went on about the fresh air and the joy her family property gave her. Frustrating woman.
After her death, he’d sell the lakefront home and put the money toward Andrew’s college tuition.
He arrived at Miriam’s just after sunset and rushed up to the covered porch of the old, white-clapboard house.
The wooden door opened, followed by the noisy screen door, as Miriam stepped outside.
“Miriam, you shouldn’t be out here. It’s chilly.”
Her lips pursed in a hard expression she’d used often as a lawyer before she’d gotten sick. “Don’t coddle me, Victor. My son is missing.”
“Let’s go inside and talk.”
She huffed and turned on her heel, her gray skirt twirling around her ankles, her pale curls bouncing on her shoulders. Even in the crisp and bland outfits she wore—an ever-present symptom of her lawyer persona—and after her long illness, she was lovely. His son had been a lucky man.
If only she’d listen to reason to move closer to the hospital.
In the living room, Pastor Richard Elks rose from the sofa. “Victor.”
“Richard.”
Miriam settled, her back stiff, in an antique, wooden-legged chair. “Andrew had an interesting conversation with Pastor Elks recently.”
“Oh?”
Richard stood with his hands clasped behind his back. “He asked me about my sermon last week, about the archangel Raphael and the healing power of God.”
“What sort of questions?”
“How to pray to the angels to help his mother. How to approach the ‘Raphael’ who lives in Sanctuary.”
“What?”
“I made it very clear that Sanctuary had no help to offer, and that the archangels cast from Heaven were not to be sought out. He appeared convinced when he left my office. But now that he’s missing…”
Lawrence leaned against the hearth. “Oh, God.” He swallowed. “Andrew was in my office at the lab a few weeks ago. He must have seen.”
“Seen what?” Miriam pulled a knit blanket over her lap, her hands shaking.
“The fallen archangel Raphael does have the power to heal. The phenomenon was observed a year ago. I saw it myself. I have a video on the computer in my office.”
Miriam’s lips thinned. “What have you gotten into?”
“A business associate of mine had Raphael captive. The archangel escaped with the help of one of the guards. The guard was shot, a severe wound to the abdomen. Raphael healed him with a moment’s touch. I saw the whole thing on security footage. The guard got up and walked away a short while later after a period of unconsciousness.”
“The archangel is fallen. Such a thing must be the devil’s work.” Fury filled Richard’s voice. “I didn’t realize you planned to do anything but kill them.”
Victor suppressed a curse. Perhaps getting the Pastor involved in his work had been a mistake after all. “He could bring miracles to the suffering.”
“Never accept gifts from the devil, Victor.”
“Damn it! You don’t walk through the ICU every day!” Victor glowered at the pastor. “I was to have the archangel for research. Since his escape, I’ve been seeking to recapture him, or better even, to attain his newborn grandchildren. They can be raised to serve humanity—”
“What does this have to do with Andrew’s disappear-ance?” Miriam wailed.
“Jesus, if he went to Sanctuary…those demons…”
The pastor, paled faced, shook his head. “That is no place for a child to wander.”
“No shit.” Lawrence placed his hand on Miriam’s shoulder. “I’ll get him back. Don’t worry. I’ll get Drew back.”
Chapter Twenty-two
After hours of trying to pull herself together after Jett left and unable to stand the silence in her apartment a moment longer, Lexine debated going out into the colony and being social, just for the sake of being around others. No, bad idea. Anyone who saw her red, puffy face would ask what was wrong, and the last thing she wanted was to be a spectacle—it would bother her if no one else. She did need to talk to someone, though.
She sent Ginger a text message. She never called this late in deference to the fact that her friend needed to sleep every night, but Lexine desperately needed an ear and a shoulder.
And chocolate and wine. A punching bag would be nice.
Her phone chirped a second later. Wide awake. Come on over.
She texted back. Has Jett left? Despite how they’d left things between them, he’d called, told her they had a lead on Lawrence, and he was leaving immediately to follow through.
Yes…
I’ll be right there.
Lexine pulled on a sweater and headed out. The brisk walk around the lake did nothing to calm her. When she reached the house, Devin let her in and escorted her to the fourth floor, where he entered another series of codes to unlock the door before returning to his post. The brand-new apartment still smelled of freshly cut wood. She took a deep breath as she removed her sweater and hung it on a hook.
Ginger leaned into view from the kitchen. “I’m making tea. Do you need something stronger?”
“I want something stronger, but I better not. I need to clear my head, not muddle it more.”
“How about cookies?”
“Perfect.” She kept her voice down and glanced toward the master bedroom as she joined Ginger in the kitchen. “Is Wren sleeping?”
“No. He’s downstairs with Raphael. They were putting a movie on when I left. This development with Lawrence has everyone on edge, waiting to hear what happens.”
“I hope I’m not interrupting.”
Ginger flicked her hand. “Let the boys watch the movie. You look like hell. What’s wrong?”
Lexine accepted a mug of tea and added honey, the combination reminding her of Jett’s scent. She told the whole story, the words rushing out. Ginger listened with a furrowed brow, staring into her tea.
“You could have told us, sweetie. We wouldn’t have judged you. You, with a poacher?” Ginger shook her head. “I would’ve suspected, above all else, that something wasn’t as it appeared.”
“It was too horrible a possibility to admit to.”
“Well, it’s off the table now.” Ginger covered Lexine’s hand with her own. “Demon premonition dreams fascinated me as a teen, so I read a lot on the subject. They aren’t exact depictions of the future, necessarily. They’re dreams, so they’re liable to have a ten-foot ice-cream cone walking around in them, even when such a fabulous thing isn’t a part of the future.”
Lexine managed a smile and took a cookie from the plate in the center of the counter.
“Maybe the dream will change again,” Ginger said. “Perhaps you and Jett can wait it out. Every little thing can change the future.”
Lexine sipped her tea to moisten her dry mouth. “You didn’t see the look he gave me. I really hurt him tonight. I may have killed any chance of a future for us.”
“He’s made of tough stuff, and I’m sure he understands your intentions. He’ll get over the blow to his ego if he’s worth keeping in the first place.” Ginger winked and sipped from her mug. She jerked, spilling tea. “Ouch—hot—shit!” She shoved the laptop computer, sitting open on the counter, away from the mess.