telling him what he could do with his offer. Then she thought about Jen’s daughter, still somewhere out there on the winter streets.
“ Let her go ,” Jen’s voice whispered in her ear.
Never , Alex responded. She straightened her shoulders.
“Right. What do we have to go on?” she asked. “It’s not likely she’ll be using her own name.”
“She will,” Michael said. “It’s her only connection to our realm, and she’ll have had no reason to change it.”
“Apart from not wanting to be found.”
“Only humans have the means to track her through a name, and she’ll have had no reason to expect us to work with you.”
“No reason to expect such interference, you mean?” Alex inquired tartly.
Michael regarded her without answer. She sighed.
“Fine. We have a name and a description. It’s not much, but it’s a start. I’ll get my coat.”
“What about sleep?”
Standing up from the table, she pointed at the smashed bottle in the living room.
“Can’t,” she said, attempting to convey humor with a twist of her mouth. Suspecting she failed. “I’ve run out of sleeping potion.”
Emerald eyes narrowed. Glittered. “That’s how you’ve been getting to sleep? For how long?”
Heat crept into her cheeks, and she turned away. “None of your—”
“How long, Alex?” Michael’s hand closed over her arm, his hold as gentle as it was unbreakable.
Alex stared down at his fingers, then raised her gaze to his. “Since that night,” she said.
“Dreams?”
“You have no idea.”
“That”—he pointed at the broken remnants of the Scotch bottle—”isn’t the answer.”
“Why? Because it isn’t healthy?” She gave a hard laugh and pulled away. “The way I understand it, that’s no longer a problem.”
“I can help,” said Michael.
She started down the hallway to the closet. “Can you undo what’s happened?”
“No, but—”
“Can you take away the memories?”
Silence.
“No,” he said at last. “I’m sorry, but too much has happened.”
“Then no, you can’t help.”
“I can—”
“Let it go, Michael.” Taking her coat from its hanger, she turned to face him. “If you want my help finding Emmanuelle, then you need to let me do it my way, because I’m only just barely holding it together anymore, and I’m not sure how much longer I can keep doing so.”
He regarded her, the impact of his gaze traveling all the way into the depths of her soul. Then he nodded. “All right. Your way. Except for one thing. We need to work from somewhere other than Toronto.”
“No.”
“You’re too much of a targ—”
“I said no .”
“If it’s because of your niece—”
“It’s not just about Nina. I have colleagues here. Friends. They need everybody they can get on the job. I won’t leave them.”
“You’re just one person, Alex. Your presence here won’t make a difference.”
“I’m not leaving.”
His mouth drawn tight, Michael shook his head. “You are hands down the most stubborn human I’ve ever met,” he growled. “And that’s not a compliment.”
Before she could think of a response, he held out his right hand to her, and a familiar sword materialized in his grasp. Alex recoiled, shaking her head.
“I told you—”
“I know what you told me. And now I’m telling you. You’re the one who insists on staying where you’re most at risk. If more than one Fallen One comes for you, if anything happens and I can’t be at your side every second of every day—”
“No.” Alex waited for the knife in her chest to stop twisting. She closed her eyes again, but the image of Aramael’s sword had burned itself into her brain. The memory of its feel into her palm. The sword of an Archangel. She’d held the weapon once before. Used it to stop Seth from killing her soulmate, but she’d been too late. Aramael had died anyway. There on the floor of the destroyed washroom, his blood mingling with Seth’s in the water flooding across
“ Let her go ,” Jen’s voice whispered in her ear.
Never , Alex responded. She straightened her shoulders.
“Right. What do we have to go on?” she asked. “It’s not likely she’ll be using her own name.”
“She will,” Michael said. “It’s her only connection to our realm, and she’ll have had no reason to change it.”
“Apart from not wanting to be found.”
“Only humans have the means to track her through a name, and she’ll have had no reason to expect us to work with you.”
“No reason to expect such interference, you mean?” Alex inquired tartly.
Michael regarded her without answer. She sighed.
“Fine. We have a name and a description. It’s not much, but it’s a start. I’ll get my coat.”
“What about sleep?”
Standing up from the table, she pointed at the smashed bottle in the living room.
“Can’t,” she said, attempting to convey humor with a twist of her mouth. Suspecting she failed. “I’ve run out of sleeping potion.”
Emerald eyes narrowed. Glittered. “That’s how you’ve been getting to sleep? For how long?”
Heat crept into her cheeks, and she turned away. “None of your—”
“How long, Alex?” Michael’s hand closed over her arm, his hold as gentle as it was unbreakable.
Alex stared down at his fingers, then raised her gaze to his. “Since that night,” she said.
“Dreams?”
“You have no idea.”
“That”—he pointed at the broken remnants of the Scotch bottle—”isn’t the answer.”
“Why? Because it isn’t healthy?” She gave a hard laugh and pulled away. “The way I understand it, that’s no longer a problem.”
“I can help,” said Michael.
She started down the hallway to the closet. “Can you undo what’s happened?”
“No, but—”
“Can you take away the memories?”
Silence.
“No,” he said at last. “I’m sorry, but too much has happened.”
“Then no, you can’t help.”
“I can—”
“Let it go, Michael.” Taking her coat from its hanger, she turned to face him. “If you want my help finding Emmanuelle, then you need to let me do it my way, because I’m only just barely holding it together anymore, and I’m not sure how much longer I can keep doing so.”
He regarded her, the impact of his gaze traveling all the way into the depths of her soul. Then he nodded. “All right. Your way. Except for one thing. We need to work from somewhere other than Toronto.”
“No.”
“You’re too much of a targ—”
“I said no .”
“If it’s because of your niece—”
“It’s not just about Nina. I have colleagues here. Friends. They need everybody they can get on the job. I won’t leave them.”
“You’re just one person, Alex. Your presence here won’t make a difference.”
“I’m not leaving.”
His mouth drawn tight, Michael shook his head. “You are hands down the most stubborn human I’ve ever met,” he growled. “And that’s not a compliment.”
Before she could think of a response, he held out his right hand to her, and a familiar sword materialized in his grasp. Alex recoiled, shaking her head.
“I told you—”
“I know what you told me. And now I’m telling you. You’re the one who insists on staying where you’re most at risk. If more than one Fallen One comes for you, if anything happens and I can’t be at your side every second of every day—”
“No.” Alex waited for the knife in her chest to stop twisting. She closed her eyes again, but the image of Aramael’s sword had burned itself into her brain. The memory of its feel into her palm. The sword of an Archangel. She’d held the weapon once before. Used it to stop Seth from killing her soulmate, but she’d been too late. Aramael had died anyway. There on the floor of the destroyed washroom, his blood mingling with Seth’s in the water flooding across
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