“I’m sure she just forgot.”
“That’s the point. Oh, never mind.” Jennifer threw up her arms in disgust. “Just tell her she owes Nina a massive apology for this. Assuming she can spare her family two minutes away from saving the world.”
Seth watched Alex’s indignant sibling march down the corridor and around the corner to the elevators. He’d never imagined connecting with Jennifer on any level. Odd how he actually found it comforting to know he wasn’t the only one struggling with Alex’s heroic tendencies. About to close the door, he paused as a movement near the end of the hallway caught his attention. He narrowed his eyes. The Fallen One, come to retrieve the journal?
But the man stepping out of the shadows and pushing open the door to the stairwell was a stranger to him. A great, hulking stranger, perhaps, but unknown nonetheless. Seth shoved away the last threads of paranoia and closed the door.
Chapter 52
Samael scuffed a toe against the crumbling stone path. What was taking Raziel so long? He shivered in the damp chill. Lucifer never had managed to get the temperature right in this godforsaken place. Or much else, for that matter. The only creature comfort to be found in all of Hell was in front of one of its many fireplaces. Perhaps Seth would have more luck.
And more interest.
He peered down the path. Raziel’s message had said urgent, but if she didn’t show up in the next five—
A wad of rags sailed out of the trees and landed at his feet. Samael stepped back, wrinkling his nose at the stench of urine and feces rising from the pile. And was that blood he smelled? What the—
“I believe that’s yours,” a voice said, its very neutrality making it sound deadly.
Lucifer.
Ice shot through Samael’s bowels. How—?
“You really should choose your help with more care, my friend.” Polished black shoes came into view beside the bundle. “She didn’t even try to hold back.”
One of the shoes prodded at the pile. A pale, slender arm flopped out of the folds and onto the path. Samael closed his eyes. Bloody Heaven. Raziel. Samael was as good as dead. Footsteps circled him. He went rigid, waiting for the first blow. Lucifer chuckled.
“You think I’d make it that easy for you, Archangel?” His voice had gone soft. “Oh, no. I want to know things first. Such as what it is you’re up to, who else is in on it, whether you’ve managed to disrupt my plan—”
“Your precious plan,” Samael snarled, his eyes snapping open.
Lucifer went still. Marble still. He tipped his head to one side, purple eyes curious. “Have you always had such an inordinate desire for pain, or is this relatively new?”
A bead of sweat trickled down Samael’s temple, trailing cold in its wake. “I only meant—”
“I know what you meant.” Lucifer resumed his slow circling. “We haven’t seen eye to eye for quite some time now. In and of itself, that’s not such a bad thing, really. I think it’s quite healthy for two intelligent beings to disagree on occasion. My problem—” The footsteps stopped directly behind Samael, and warm breath stirred against his ear. “My problem lies with your continued inability to recall which one of us is in command here, Samael. Especially after I’ve already reminded you. Twice.”
Cruel hands clamped down on his shoulders. “Now, why don’t we—”
“Lucifer,” a new voice rumbled.
Lucifer’s hands squeezed, sending pain streaking through Samael and felling him to his knees. “This had better be—” The hands dropped away. “Qemuel. You found her already?”
“It wasn’t difficult.”
“You hear that, Sam?” Lucifer grabbed Samael’s chin and twisted it up and around until he looked him in the eye. “It wasn’t difficult. That makes me wonder what your problem was all this time, you know.” He released him again with a pat on the cheek that snapped Samael’s head sideways. “We’ll take this up again later, Archangel. And if you were thinking of running, please, be my guest. It will make this much more interesting—and we both know I’ll find you.”
Terror—utter, paralyzing terror—robbed Samael of the capacity to stand after Lucifer’s departure. Long minutes dragged by, more than he cared to acknowledge, before he felt the blood return to his veins, the tone to his muscles. He dragged himself upright. He’d expected Lucifer to find out eventually, but not this soon. He wasn’t ready—Seth wasn’t ready. Another few days . . .
He stared at what was left of Raziel. He didn’t have a few days. A few hours, maybe—or as long as he could stay ahead of Lucifer—but that was all. If he was going to pull this off, somehow he had to find the words to tip Seth over the edge now.
He stepped over the fouled clothing, past the pale arm. He’d speak with Mittron first. The Seraph’s plan to cause Armageddon in the first place had more than demonstrated his ability for scheming. Maybe he could be of more use than just unlocking the gates of Limbo.
Assuming the drugs hadn’t fried all his brain cells by now.
Chapter 53
Alex closed the meeting room door behind her and headed for the elevator. Aramael fell into step at her side as she passed the waiting area. She felt his gaze on her, but he remained quiet. Blessedly so, because she was in no way ready to share all that she had learned in that meeting. She still hadn’t processed it herself.
The elevator doors slid open at the touch of a button, and they stepped inside. She took her cell phone from its holster and dialed her voice mail. Four messages. One from Roberts, reminding her he expected a call; three from Jen the previous day. At each sound of her sister’s voice, Alex pressed the button to skip the message, swallowing her guilt at doing so. She just couldn’t deal with Jen on top of everything else right now.
Alex returned the cell phone to its case and closed her eyes, letting her head drop back against the wall.
Aramael’s voice broke into her attempt to stop thinking. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”
“Ask your Guardians.”
“I could, but it would save time if you told me yourself.”
She remained stubbornly silent. Aramael’s clothing rustled as he shifted position. The elevator continued its descent, bumping past another floor.
Lifting her head, she regarded him. “Why are we bothering with this?”
“Bothering with what?”
“Any of it. Tracking down the Nephilim, convincing Seth to take back his powers.”
Sudden interest gleamed in Aramael’s eyes. “You’ve decided to help with that?”
Trust him to zero in on that rather than the question. She scowled. “I’m serious, Aramael. What’s the point of any of it? Humanity has never been so far advanced and so far behind all at the same time. We’re consuming more than the Earth can produce. We’ve created enough weaponry to destroy ourselves several times over. We’re pushing the limits of our very existence—hell, the whole goddamn planet’s existence—past the point of no return, and we know it, but we’re too goddamn arrogant to care. What, in all of that, is worth saving?”
“Not all of you are like that.”
She snorted. “There are more than seven billion of us, Aramael. Expecting a handful to be able to sway the masses is like asking us to empty the Atlantic with a teaspoon.”
The number three over the elevator doors glowed red, then the two, then the letters RC for rez-de-chausée. Ground floor. The elevator jolted to a stop.
“Maybe this entire war is too late,” she said wearily. “Maybe Lucifer has already won.”
“You wouldn’t be doing what you do if you believed that.”