You have no idea what I’ve been through waiting for the fire department to cut open my car. . . waiting to see what they’d find in there.
She softened. I’m sorry.
Then she noticed how rumpled he was. A quick glance at Alec revealed that his T-shirt was stretched in places.
Sighing inwardly, she waved Reed toward the door. Take care of wacko out there and I’ll get back to you about the trust issue.
He went, but with a clearly aggravated stride.
When she was alone with Alec, she said, “We need answers. Go to the source if you have to, just find them.”
He leaned into one of the metal mailboxes built into the wall. “You sound as if you know for a fact that Raguel will be back.”
“Maybe I do.”
“You need to talk to me, angel.”
“I can’t. You’re connected to everyone in the firm in an unpredictable way. We can’t risk a leak like that. You’ll just have to hang on for the ride.”
He exhaled harshly. “I’ve been doing that since I met you.”
“It’s not so bad, is it?”
“Can you at least tell me why you have this necklace?”
“To kill the Nix. It, uh, apparently suppresses Infernal tendencies.”
Alec grew very still.
“Yes,” she answered his silent question. “Something is in you that shouldn’t be. But I think you knew that already.”
“I didn’t know it was Infernal. I thought it was just. . . me.” He reached out and caught her hand, his fingers playing with hers. “Angel. I have to tell you something.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Yeah, I do.”
“No, really.” She squeezed his hand. “I know about Izzie. I know that wasn’t you.”
He looked shell-shocked, then relieved. His entire frame visibly deflated from the release of tension. “I don’t deserve you, you know? I never have.”
“Well.” The toe of her shoe followed a grout line in the marble. “I have something to tell you, too.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Yeah, I do.”
“I don’t want to hear it. And when I saw the name of Sarakiel’s e-mail attachment, I didn’t want to see it either. So I deleted it.”
Her shoulders went back. “Because you feel guilty over something you’re not responsible for. You think this makes us even, but it doesn’t, Alec. I knew damn well what I was doing; you didn’t.”
“I don’t care,” he said stubbornly.
She laid it all out there. “I would do it again; you wouldn’t.”
“I’m not going to give you a reason to do it again.” Alec straightened. “Let’s go check on my parents and see if they’re ready to go. I need to hit the road.”
“Fine.” There was no point in talking to him about it now. He wasn’t listening. She’d revisit the subject later. She had to. Everything was different. Ignoring those differences wasn’t going to help any of them. “But I’ll need you back here before noon. You and that necklace. Got it?”
“Got it.” Alec shifted them up to his apartment.
His mother sat on the black leather couch in the living room. His father was apparently in one of the back bedrooms. When Eve jerked her chin down the hall, Alec took the hint and joined his dad, leaving her alone with his mom.
Ima looked up at her with reddened eyes and nose. She looked years older than she had the night before, with deep grooves around her pretty mouth and slumped shoulders. Eve took a seat beside her and offered her a commiserating smile.
Setting a hand on Eve’s knee, Ima asked in a whisper, “How did you get the necklace?”
“Satan lent it to me.”
“Why?”
“It wards off Infernals.”
“Does it?” Ima looked away. Her tone grew distant. “I didn’t know. It didn’t do that for me.”
Eve looked down the hail, making sure that Alec was still occupied with helping his father. Then she leaned in and queried softly, “It’s yours, isn’t it?”
Nodding, Ima explained, “When I married Adam, Jehovah gave it to me, along with twenty-three other pieces of jewelry.”
Was the piece around Alec’s neck the only one that was charmed? Perhaps they all had a unique gift. “How did Satan get his hands on it?”
“I gave it to him. In a way, it’s fitting that you would give it to Cain.”
A sentimental gesture. A gift of some meaning, apparently. A message delivered, as Satan had said.
“You shouldn’t say any more,” Eve murmured. “Cain shares my thoughts and memories. Whatever I know, he eventually finds out about.”
“Ah, I see.” Ima gave her knee a gentle squeeze. “Thank you for the warning.”
“Will you be okay?”
“Adam and I have been together forever. That’s not going to change now.”
“I hope I see you again. A longer visit, perhaps.”
“I would like that.”
Ima hugged her. A few moments later, Adam did the same, albeit with some awkwardness. Then Alec shifted away with them. The parting was bittersweet for Eve. She’d spent only enough time with them to learn that she wanted to spend more.
Knowing there was much to be done before the morning dawned, Eve returned to her condo. Sydney was cooking chili in the kitchen, Reed was on the phone with his insurance company, and Montevista was in the shower. Once again, Eve kicked off her heels, hoping it would be for the last time tonight. She was beat. She pushed them under the console table by the front door and padded down the hallway to her office.
Ishamel was there, sitting at her desk and staring intently at the computer monitor. He leaned back when she entered and sighed. That sound softened him in her eyes, as did the sight of him sans jacket and waistcoat.
“Hi,” she said.
“How are you?”
She hummed a noncommittal sound. “I’ve been better.”
“I found what I think you were looking for.”
“Oh?”
The mal‘akh gestured at her monitor. She rounded the desk to see what he was referring to.
Frozen on the screen was a grainy image of Sarakiel in sunglasses, sitting at a picnic table in what looked to be a public park. Across from her sat another blonde woman and a large dark-haired man.
Eve asked, “What am I looking at?”
“Sarakiel.” Ishamel pointed at the familiar figure. “This is Asmodeus. And this is Lilith.”
Eve’s mouth formed an O. She leaned in closer. Unfortunately, not much was distinguishable aside from body type and hair color. She couldn’t get a good idea of what Adam’s first wife looked like, much to her disappointment. “That can’t be good. How did you get this?”
“Raguel is gone. Two archangels are on his turf. I thought it’d be wise to keep a close eye on things in his absence.”
She straightened. “You rock.”
“Now it’s your turn,” he said. “Tell me what this means.”
Moving over to the futon, Eve sat with her legs tucked beneath her and explained what Mariel had told her.
She finished with, “Trading a handler would knock twenty-one Marks off their game, but only temporarily. I can’t see that being worth trading Gadara for. Unless the handler was Abel.”
“That ups the ante considerably,” Ishamel agreed. “Exactly. And leave it to a demon to tell Abel to his face that he was being traded.”
“How did you narrow the culprit down to Sarakiel?”
Eve shrugged. “It’s a woman thing, I guess. We can be vindictive when slighted.”
“You’re taking a risk telling me this,” he pointed out. “You are all expendable to me, if that’s what it takes to get Raguel back.”
“Right.”
“So you must have a plan.”
“I guess you could call it that.” She smiled. “Clusterfuck also works.”
Ishamel nodded. “Count me in. What do you need from me?”
“An odd location for a meet, Cain,” Sabrael murmured. “The most popular place to commit suicide in the United States. Is this a message of some sort?”
“Nothing so morbid.” Alec blinked and engaged thick tears, protecting his eyes from the seraph’s brilliance. “Eve pointed it out while watching a television show about witches.”
“Far from morbid,” the seraph said wryly, “I think that qualifies as romantic.”
The view from the top of a Golden Gate Bridge tower was unrivaled. The waters of San Francisco Bay shimmered with the city lights and the sea breeze was cold, damp, and brisk. It kept Alec’s head clear, which he appreciated.
Sabrael took a seat beside him, his powerful legs dangling over the edge: “Are you enjoying your ascension?”
“For the most part.”
“Am I here to be thanked?”
Alec’s mouth curved. “I have a few questions, if you don’t mind.”
“What would happen to me if Raguel came back?”
“Ah. . . Excellent question.” Sabrael turned his flame-blue gaze on Alec. “I was not expecting something so thoughtful.”
“Glad I could surprise you.”
“What do you think will happen?”
“I don’t know. Will I die?”
Sabrael laughed. It was a gorgeous, heavenly sound. Unique to the seraphim. “My dear Cain. I doubt Jehovah could afford to lose a Mark of your talents. You are irreplaceable, I would say.”
“Good to know.”
“However, you would lose the North American firm and all that comes with it.”
“Everything, then,” Alec clarified. “Would I return to the way I was before? Would I at least be restored to a full mal’akh?”
“You misunderstand me. I would see to it that you retained your archangel gifts, despite the lack of responsibilities that usually accompany them.” The seraph’s voice took on a biting edge. “Do not forget that you owe me, Cain. No matter what task I decide upon, having you as an archangel is of greater benefit to me.”