dangerously near the rim of the cup she held. Haggard, haunted eyes met his. “I can’t…I don’t…”
Mika’el’s heart twisted.
So broken.
She clamped her lips together and inhaled deeply through her nose. Exhaled. Inhaled again. Then, “How?” she asked.
“You know that one-third of the angel host fell with Lucifer.”
“Ara—” She bit down on her soulmate’s name, grief contorting her mouth. “Yes. I know that much.”
“Their choices pitted them against those who remained loyal to the One. Their own kin. Husband against wife, mother against son, brother against sister. The pain of having to fight those we loved…” Mika’el paused, remembering the agony that had filled Heaven in that dark time, feeling again the One’s own despair. He shook off the memory of his parting from her and returned to his story. “The One offered the angels a Cleanse. An erasure of the memories of soulmates and families, a lifting of their free will. Her intention was that they would no longer need to choose between her and the ones they loved. No more regrets, no more pain.”
Alex’s gaze flickered. “But?”
“With no will of their own, they became dependent on hers, and now that she’s gone, they have nothing driving them anymore. Nothing to fight for. They’re lost, and they’re losing, and I can’t help them. Heaven needs a leader, Alex, and I’m not it.”
The coffee cup dropped to the floor, shattering in a spray of liquid and ceramic shards that shot across the room. The color drained from Alex’s face, leaving lake-blue eyes adrift against skin the color of paper. Bloodless lips parted but made no sound. And what little had been left of the broken woman began to crumble away.
In an instant, Mika’el realized his error. He lunged across the room and seized her shoulders. Shook her. “Damn it, Alex, no. That’s not what I meant. Not Seth. Did you hear me? Not Seth .”
Shock-glazed eyes slid past his, unfocused. Unable to focus. Bloody fucking Hell. He thrust her onto a chair and knelt before her, taking limp hands in his. The cold of her touch knifed to his core. He was losing her.
“Did you hear me? I’m not asking you to find Seth. This isn’t about him, it’s about his sister. Emmanuelle.” He shook her, not as gently as he might have done, desperate to stop her disintegration before she was beyond even an Archangel’s reach. He gathered himself, reaching inward, preparing to chance his connection to Heaven itself. Hoping against hope itself that the Cardinal Rule would not apply where a Naphil was concerned. That if it did, the risk would at least be worth it.
He took a deep breath.
Concentrated his entire being on the woman seated before him.
“Seth has a sister?” Alex croaked.
*
Bethiel stood on the sidewalk below the Naphil’s apartment, staring up at the single square of light in the otherwise dark building. The Archangel Mika’el had lost none of his highhandedness over the course of the millennia. None of his autocracy. Arriving the way he had, in the middle of what had been a private negotiation, taking over as if Bethiel’s wants and needs were of no consequence. The Archangel had simply assumed Bethiel would agree and fall in with his wishes, that he would comply without argument.
As he would have done at one time. Before Limbo twisted him up inside so that he barely recognized himself anymore. Bethiel passed a shaking hand across his brow. Three thousand years of plotting Mittron’s downfall warred with an almost, but not quite, lost loyalty to Heaven. To the One who was no more. To the warrior who fought on in her name.
Mika’el was right that events had grown beyond simple revenge. On a higher level of himself, Bethiel knew that. He even wanted to be a part of it: to do as the Archangel asked, and help in the search for Emmanuelle, the fight against the Fallen, the fight to save humanity. He wanted it badly.
But not entirely.
Because one way or another,
Mika’el’s heart twisted.
So broken.
She clamped her lips together and inhaled deeply through her nose. Exhaled. Inhaled again. Then, “How?” she asked.
“You know that one-third of the angel host fell with Lucifer.”
“Ara—” She bit down on her soulmate’s name, grief contorting her mouth. “Yes. I know that much.”
“Their choices pitted them against those who remained loyal to the One. Their own kin. Husband against wife, mother against son, brother against sister. The pain of having to fight those we loved…” Mika’el paused, remembering the agony that had filled Heaven in that dark time, feeling again the One’s own despair. He shook off the memory of his parting from her and returned to his story. “The One offered the angels a Cleanse. An erasure of the memories of soulmates and families, a lifting of their free will. Her intention was that they would no longer need to choose between her and the ones they loved. No more regrets, no more pain.”
Alex’s gaze flickered. “But?”
“With no will of their own, they became dependent on hers, and now that she’s gone, they have nothing driving them anymore. Nothing to fight for. They’re lost, and they’re losing, and I can’t help them. Heaven needs a leader, Alex, and I’m not it.”
The coffee cup dropped to the floor, shattering in a spray of liquid and ceramic shards that shot across the room. The color drained from Alex’s face, leaving lake-blue eyes adrift against skin the color of paper. Bloodless lips parted but made no sound. And what little had been left of the broken woman began to crumble away.
In an instant, Mika’el realized his error. He lunged across the room and seized her shoulders. Shook her. “Damn it, Alex, no. That’s not what I meant. Not Seth. Did you hear me? Not Seth .”
Shock-glazed eyes slid past his, unfocused. Unable to focus. Bloody fucking Hell. He thrust her onto a chair and knelt before her, taking limp hands in his. The cold of her touch knifed to his core. He was losing her.
“Did you hear me? I’m not asking you to find Seth. This isn’t about him, it’s about his sister. Emmanuelle.” He shook her, not as gently as he might have done, desperate to stop her disintegration before she was beyond even an Archangel’s reach. He gathered himself, reaching inward, preparing to chance his connection to Heaven itself. Hoping against hope itself that the Cardinal Rule would not apply where a Naphil was concerned. That if it did, the risk would at least be worth it.
He took a deep breath.
Concentrated his entire being on the woman seated before him.
“Seth has a sister?” Alex croaked.
*
Bethiel stood on the sidewalk below the Naphil’s apartment, staring up at the single square of light in the otherwise dark building. The Archangel Mika’el had lost none of his highhandedness over the course of the millennia. None of his autocracy. Arriving the way he had, in the middle of what had been a private negotiation, taking over as if Bethiel’s wants and needs were of no consequence. The Archangel had simply assumed Bethiel would agree and fall in with his wishes, that he would comply without argument.
As he would have done at one time. Before Limbo twisted him up inside so that he barely recognized himself anymore. Bethiel passed a shaking hand across his brow. Three thousand years of plotting Mittron’s downfall warred with an almost, but not quite, lost loyalty to Heaven. To the One who was no more. To the warrior who fought on in her name.
Mika’el was right that events had grown beyond simple revenge. On a higher level of himself, Bethiel knew that. He even wanted to be a part of it: to do as the Archangel asked, and help in the search for Emmanuelle, the fight against the Fallen, the fight to save humanity. He wanted it badly.
But not entirely.
Because one way or another,
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