Sins of the Angels by Linda Poitevin Page A

trailed off and shivered. “You had to be there, Staff, it was downright weird.”
    â€œYou’re sure that’s what he meant.”
    â€œWe’re here, aren’t we?”
    Roberts said nothing for a moment, then muttered, “Shit.”
    Oh, she’d second that, all right.
    â€œNow can we ditch him?” she asked, her tone light but not entirely kidding.
    â€œYou know I don’t hold much stock in the whole woowoo thing,” Roberts said.
    She counted on it.
    â€œBut nothing about this case remotely resembles normal, and right now, I don’t care if the guy’s a card-carrying member of the fucking Magic Wand Society,” her staff inspector continued. “He came within a hair of nabbing our killer, and if there’s any chance he can get that close again—”
    Alex swallowed bitter disappointment. “You’re serious.”
    â€œWith six bodies? You bet your ass I’m serious.”
    God damn it to hell.
    â€œWell, then, can we at least put him with someone else?”
    â€œI’m not going to start screwing around with partnerships in the middle of this, Alex. You’re a big girl. I’m sure you can figure out a way to work with the guy.”
    â€œThat’s it? That’s all you have to say?”
    â€œUnless you need another direct order, yes. That’s all I have to say.”

    ARAMAELWATCHED THE dozen or so people swarming over the scene, collecting every particle that hadn’t been swept away in the storm of Caim’s strike. Behind him, he felt the tug of Alex’s presence, sensed her every move as though a cord ran between them.
    Between a Power and a Naphil.
    With an effort, he restrained himself from putting a fist through the brick wall at his side. The very idea he could feel any connection to a descendant of the Grigori—worse, let that connection interfere in a hunt—was insupportable. Unforgivable.
    It flew in the face of Heaven itself.
    Aramael felt Alex’s approach and knew he’d become the subject of her attention again. The thought sent a tingle along his limbs. His breath locked in his lungs, denied exit by the heart lodged at the base of his throat. Bloody hell, he couldn’t let this continue. Not if he wanted to catch Caim.
    He heard her stop behind him and clear her throat. Hated himself for the sudden damp of his palms. He drew the shreds of defeat about himself, using them to rekindle the anger he needed to stand against her.
    He turned on her. “I told you not to follow me. I told you to stay on the sidewalk.”
    Aramael watched her flare of surprise give way to annoyance. Good. Anger was good. Familiar. Better by far than the vulnerability he had glimpsed following his survival of the shooting. A vulnerability that had, in turn, stirred in him a feeling that had taken several long minutes to identify.
    Because Powers didn’t feel compassion any more than they felt connections. Not for any mortal, but especially not for a Naphil.
    Alex crossed her arms, responding to his challenge. “Are you telling me you actually expected me to let you go it alone? You’ve been watching too much television, Detective Trent. Real cops don’t work like that. You and I are partners . We work together. As a team.”
    Aramael scowled at her. “You don’t understand.”
    â€œThen enlighten me. You can start by explaining why the hell you told Roberts you didn’t see the suspect.”
    Too late, Aramael tried to hide his surprise. She’d seen Caim? He’d been so caught up in the frustration of losing his brother, he hadn’t considered the possibility.
    She nodded, as if she’d read his thoughts.
    â€œI only caught a glimpse before you shoved me back, but yes, I saw him. Because you told Roberts you didn’t see anyone, however, he now thinks stress is interfering with my judgment. So I repeat: why did you lie to