the orchestrator of this whole fucking mess still had to pay.
And Bethiel still intended to make him.
CHAPTER 19
“LET ME MAKE SURE I have this straight,” Alex said. “In five thousand years, all of Heaven hasn’t been able to find Emmanuelle, but you think I can. How?”
They sat at the dining room table, she and Michael, the stench of spilled Scotch wafting between them. Michael leaned forward in his chair, elbows resting on knees, fingers clasped.
“Verchiel—Heaven’s executive administrator—has pointed out to me that you have connections we don’t,” he said. “Humanity’s technology can take a search global, and you’re our fastest way to access that capacity.”
Heaven had an executive administrator? Why did that not surprise her? No wonder human bureaucracy was so entrenched.
“But you have a whole network of Guardians. Surely they’d be more effective than our technology.”
“Normally, yes.”
Alex raised an eyebrow at his reticence. “But not in this instance?”
“Not if she isn’t in the company of humans who have Guardians, no.”
Not in the company of …the breath whooshed from Alex. “But the only humans who don’t have Guardians are the descendants of the Nephilim,” she said slowly. “Like me. Either that or they’ve—”
“Turned their backs on their Guardians,” Michael finished. “Yes.”
Alex’s back stiffened, and she narrowed her eyes. “Criminals turn their backs on their Guardians, Michael. People who have made really, really bad decisions in their lives. Repeatedly.”
“Yes.”
The wall clock ticked into the long silence that followed. Just past four a.m. A mere eight hours since Jen had died. An hour since Bethiel’s appearance in Alex’s apartment. A half hour since Michael nearly sliced off her head. Balefully, she eyed the remains of the Scotch bottle littering the living room floor.
“You’re serious,” she said, determined to focus on one crisis at a time. “You really mean to put her in charge.”
“I can’t put her anywhere,” Michael replied, “any more than I can force Seth to stay where he is right now. All I can do is ask her, and hope she agrees.”
“And if she does? How can you possibly think this will go well? She’s hanging out with mortals who have turned their backs on anything to do with Heaven, Michael. On morality itself. Does that not tell you anything?”
A muscle flickered at the side of Michael’s jaw. “It tells me she doesn’t want to be found.”
Alex threw her arms wide. “And that should tell you something, too.”
“It does.” Emerald eyes scowled at her. “It tells me I need your help to find her.”
She stared at him for a moment, then shoved back her chair and stood. Hands on hips, she paced the floor, everything cop in her bristling with warning. Was Heaven that desperate? Had it really come down to pitting brother in Hell against sister who might very well belong in the same place? She glanced over her shoulder at the whiteness of Michael’s knuckles, the rigidity of the wings at his back.
“You’re certain about this.”
“I’m certain we have no choice but to try.”
She stopped at the living room window. Outside, snow fell heavily into the city night, shrouding the cars parked below, muting the street lights. Heaven losing to Hell, a Nephilim army poised on the fringes of humanity, Seth waiting to reclaim her. She blew out a long, slow breath. What more could go wrong…right? She swung to face Michael, still at the table.
“And you’re sure she’s here? There’s no chance she might be—?”
“Dead? No. That we would have known.”
The flat note in his voice piqued her curiosity, but he didn’t give her a chance to pursue it.
“Well?” he asked. “Is Verchiel right? Can you help us find her?”
His earlier words hung in the air between them, both a promise and a threat. “ Bethiel can’t protect you, but I can .”
She thought about refusing. Thought about
And Bethiel still intended to make him.
CHAPTER 19
“LET ME MAKE SURE I have this straight,” Alex said. “In five thousand years, all of Heaven hasn’t been able to find Emmanuelle, but you think I can. How?”
They sat at the dining room table, she and Michael, the stench of spilled Scotch wafting between them. Michael leaned forward in his chair, elbows resting on knees, fingers clasped.
“Verchiel—Heaven’s executive administrator—has pointed out to me that you have connections we don’t,” he said. “Humanity’s technology can take a search global, and you’re our fastest way to access that capacity.”
Heaven had an executive administrator? Why did that not surprise her? No wonder human bureaucracy was so entrenched.
“But you have a whole network of Guardians. Surely they’d be more effective than our technology.”
“Normally, yes.”
Alex raised an eyebrow at his reticence. “But not in this instance?”
“Not if she isn’t in the company of humans who have Guardians, no.”
Not in the company of …the breath whooshed from Alex. “But the only humans who don’t have Guardians are the descendants of the Nephilim,” she said slowly. “Like me. Either that or they’ve—”
“Turned their backs on their Guardians,” Michael finished. “Yes.”
Alex’s back stiffened, and she narrowed her eyes. “Criminals turn their backs on their Guardians, Michael. People who have made really, really bad decisions in their lives. Repeatedly.”
“Yes.”
The wall clock ticked into the long silence that followed. Just past four a.m. A mere eight hours since Jen had died. An hour since Bethiel’s appearance in Alex’s apartment. A half hour since Michael nearly sliced off her head. Balefully, she eyed the remains of the Scotch bottle littering the living room floor.
“You’re serious,” she said, determined to focus on one crisis at a time. “You really mean to put her in charge.”
“I can’t put her anywhere,” Michael replied, “any more than I can force Seth to stay where he is right now. All I can do is ask her, and hope she agrees.”
“And if she does? How can you possibly think this will go well? She’s hanging out with mortals who have turned their backs on anything to do with Heaven, Michael. On morality itself. Does that not tell you anything?”
A muscle flickered at the side of Michael’s jaw. “It tells me she doesn’t want to be found.”
Alex threw her arms wide. “And that should tell you something, too.”
“It does.” Emerald eyes scowled at her. “It tells me I need your help to find her.”
She stared at him for a moment, then shoved back her chair and stood. Hands on hips, she paced the floor, everything cop in her bristling with warning. Was Heaven that desperate? Had it really come down to pitting brother in Hell against sister who might very well belong in the same place? She glanced over her shoulder at the whiteness of Michael’s knuckles, the rigidity of the wings at his back.
“You’re certain about this.”
“I’m certain we have no choice but to try.”
She stopped at the living room window. Outside, snow fell heavily into the city night, shrouding the cars parked below, muting the street lights. Heaven losing to Hell, a Nephilim army poised on the fringes of humanity, Seth waiting to reclaim her. She blew out a long, slow breath. What more could go wrong…right? She swung to face Michael, still at the table.
“And you’re sure she’s here? There’s no chance she might be—?”
“Dead? No. That we would have known.”
The flat note in his voice piqued her curiosity, but he didn’t give her a chance to pursue it.
“Well?” he asked. “Is Verchiel right? Can you help us find her?”
His earlier words hung in the air between them, both a promise and a threat. “ Bethiel can’t protect you, but I can .”
She thought about refusing. Thought about
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