Sins of the Son: The Grigori Legacy (22 page)

Henderson’s gun dropped several inches. The Vancouver detective gaped at her. “Come again?”

“I need to talk to Ara—him.” Alex tipped her head toward Aramael. “And I need someone to watch Seth for me until I get back.”

“Back from—watch—” Henderson lowered the gun to his side and stared at her as if she’d suggested they join forces in knocking off a bank. “Damn it, Jarvis, this isn’t some kind of negotiation here and I am not your on-call babysitter. I overheard Ara-whoever he is uttering threats and I am arresting him.
And
I’m taking Seth Benjamin into custody,
and
I’ll be questioning you, too. End of fucking discussion.”

Alex curled fingers into palms. “Remember when you spoke to my supervisor? To Roberts?”

“What the hell does that have to do with anything?”

“Remember what he told you about Seth?”

“Of course, but—”

She uncurled one finger and lifted it to point at Aramael. “He’s like Seth.”

“Alex.”

Aramael’s snarl made her flinch, but she held her ground, because she had to know. She had to find out what he wanted with Seth, to know if she was right about him hunting. And if he was,
why
. Which meant getting him away from here, alone, to answer her questions—any way she could.

Henderson’s scowl deepened. “Like him how? Connected to the serial killer case, you mean?”

“That—and whatever else Roberts said.”

Henderson hadn’t told her much about his exchange with her supervisor, so Alex could only guess at what Roberts
had divulged, but the Vancouver detective’s reticence about the conversation—and the sudden gray tinge in his face now—hinted at a certain level of detail. She waited for him to process her words.

The Adam’s apple in Henderson’s throat bobbed as his thumb toyed with the safety on his gun. He stared, first at her, then at Aramael. At last he cleared his throat.

“You know how this sounds.”

Alex nodded.

“You know how your supervisor sounded. How Father Mar—” He broke off.

Father? As in
priest
? A priest who knew what, exactly? Alex bit back the questions.
One thing at a time, Jarvis.

“I know how it sounds, yes.”

“But you still want me to believe you—to believe this.” He waved his handcuffs at Aramael.

“Just accept it’s possible. Let me talk with him.”

Riley put a hand on Henderson’s forearm and he started, looking down at her as if he’d forgotten she was there. An entire unspoken conversation seemed to pass between them before Henderson grunted. Riley looked mutinous.

“Ten minutes.” Henderson lifted his head to look at Alex. “You have ten minutes.”

“Alex—” Aramael began.

“Don’t,” she said. “I didn’t create this mess, Aramael. You did. I just bought you ten minutes of as much anonymity as you’re going to get. Whether you get more time or not depends on what you tell me. Either way, you’re not going near Seth unless you convince me I should let you. Got it?”

Her wingless soulmate’s mouth went tight. Frustration flashed through his eyes, but he nodded his acceptance and Alex reached for the knob.

“Shit,” she muttered. “It locked itself.” She raised a hand and knocked. “Seth? It’s Alex. I’m locked out. Can you open the door for me?”

Silence.

She knocked again, louder this time. “Seth? Open the door.”

No response.

Making a fist, she pounded. Hard. Harder.

“Seth! Damn it, Seth, answer me!”

Henderson joined her, hammering louder. “Seth Benjamin, open up.”

Still nothing.

“No way we’ll force it without a ram,” Henderson said. “Liz, get the manager. Tell him it’s an emergency and make sure he brings the—”

Aramael’s hand reached between them—Alex would have recognized the strong, tanned forearm anywhere—and shoved the door inward, sending it to the floor with a crash, frame splintered. A slack-jawed Henderson stepped away from the angel. Tightening her lips, Alex pushed past into the room. A second later she confirmed what they already knew.

“He’s gone.”

S
eth moved through the streets with long, angry strides, his gaze flicking from one example of human devastation to another. He’d learned the word while watching the news with Alex the night before; she had explained it as the wreckage remaining after some kind of disaster. While the news had used it in the context of an earthquake on the other side of the planet, it was the word that came to mind as he viewed the world before him now.

Devastation.

Men and women of all ages stood in the street, sat against lampposts and brick walls, and sprawled among boxes and garbage like so much litter on the sidewalk. Studying each as he walked past, Seth saw no life in the eyes that followed his progress, no hope in the faces. A new feeling stirred inside him, something he couldn’t put a name to, but knew was the opposite of the attraction that pulled him to Alex.

Alex, who would be able to explain what it was he witnessed here. Alex, who had restored his ability to communicate again, sheltered him, taught him to trust—and then betrayed him.

Seth’s chest burned. He felt—he didn’t know how he felt. Didn’t know how to identify whatever caused this fire in him and left the sour taste on the back of his tongue. Alex would be able to help him identify that, too, of course, but she was otherwise occupied right now. With the man who had been outside the hotel room door with Dr. Riley. The man she had accused of being
like Seth
.

Seth hadn’t been able to see who she referred to, but her meaning had been clear and had supported his growing suspicions: if
he
was like Seth, then
Seth
was not like others. Not like the ones who had found him and locked him in the hospital. Not like the ones he watched on television or read about in the newspapers or books. Not like the ones he walked past now. Not like Alex.

Seth
was something other. Something different. But what? And why did the knowledge make him ache inside, as if he had lost something vital, something he needed to complete himself? More important, why hadn’t Alex told him when he had asked? Why had she been about to hand him over to the ones he’d escaped while she talked to another who had come for him?

The churning at Seth’s center intensified. He scowled at the thousands of other questions stirring along the edges of his consciousness.

A scuff against concrete snagged his attention as a patched and faded man shuffled after him. An unfocused gaze met his, hesitated, then dropped to the sidewalk as the man veered to the left and crossed the street. Seth stared after him.

“It’s a shame, isn’t it?” a voice remarked from the shelter of a doorway.

Distracted, Seth looked around as a figure stepped from the shadows onto the sidewalk, his blond head shaking in apparent sadness. Apparent, because Seth would have sworn the sentiment wasn’t genuine. His gaze narrowed on the newcomer.

The man strolled closer, stopping a few feet away. His eyes, a startling, intense purple under the streetlight, settled on Seth. “Such a waste, when they fail like this.”

“They?”

“Mortals.” The man nodded toward the street. “Humans. The One’s precious children.”

Seth shook his head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. These are adults, not children—and who is this One?”

The purple gaze sharpened on him. “You still haven’t remembered, have you?” the man murmured.

A vague uneasiness crawled over Seth’s skin. Suddenly missing the comfort of Alex’s presence, he felt the urge to return to her. A nagging curiosity held him. “Do I know you?”

“Yes and no.” The stranger smiled, and a pure and steady light seemed to shine from his face. “I am like you.”

“Like me how?”

“Of another realm, another world. More than they have ever been or can hope to be.” The man indicated the street scene again.

“I don’t understand.”

Another smile. More light. “Then walk with me, Seth born of Heaven and Hell, and I’ll explain.”

Something in the stranger’s voice—or was it in the way his odd inner light turned cold?—made Seth uncertain he wanted to hear what this man had to tell him.
Heaven and Hell?

He shook his head. “I need to get back. Someone is waiting for me.”

“A woman. I know.”

Seth scowled. “How do you know? Who are you?”

“I am Lucifer. Bearer of Light, ruler of Hell, former helpmeet of the Creator of All.” Lucifer’s purple gaze became wry. “And I’m not just like you, Seth Benjamin; I
am
you—or half of you, anyway. You’re my son.”

H
UGH CAUGHT HOLD
of Liz’s wrist as she made to follow Alex Jarvis and the stranger—Aramael—down the street. The psychiatrist opened her mouth to object, but he shook his head at her, focused on the cell phone against his ear.
Waiting. Wishing he’d thought to do this as soon as he’d hung up from Alex’s supervisor yesterday.

“Okay,” the voice at the other end came back on the line. “I’ve got it here. It’s a sizeable file, though—you sure you want the whole thing?”

“I’m sure.”

A sigh. “I’ll have it copied and couriered to you tomorrow.”

Liz tugged at his fingers and he tightened his grip, shooting her a warning frown.

“Tonight,” he told the voice. “Rush.”

A heavier sigh, followed by a grumble. “Why not? It’s not like I have a family to go home to or anything. Fine. I’ll send it tonight. You’ll have it by noon.”

The line went dead. Pocketing the cell phone, Hugh frowned at Liz, who still pulled at his grasp. “Simmer down, Doc. I gave her ten minutes, remember?”

“That was
before
she lost my patient again,” she retorted. “I want to know what the hell is going on, Hugh. Why are you suddenly on Alex Jarvis’s side? And what the hell did she mean about this—this
friend
of hers being like Seth? He told me he worked with her in Toronto.”

Hugh drew her to the side of the hotel entrance, away from the crowd that had gathered: management, guests, cops who had responded to the disturbance of doors being knocked down and guns being drawn. He grimaced. It would take him a month of Sundays to write up all the reports he’d have to file on this. Pushing aside the thought, he focused on the irate psychiatrist.

“Alex didn’t lose Seth, and you know it. He disappeared on his own, just like he did before.” He waved her silent when she opened her mouth to argue. “Let me finish. I think the friend, this Aramael, did work with her,” he said, “and with Seth. At least on the serial killer case. But not as a cop.”

Liz stopped trying to tug free. Her eyes narrowed. “You’re referring to what the supervisor told you.”

“Yes.”

“You know that’s insane.”

“Yes.”

“You have no proof.”

“I’ve requested the case files from Toronto and—” Hugh stopped and compressed his lips. He’d damn near told her about Marcus just then—had only just caught back the story of secret scrolls and divine beings and superhuman half-breeds. As good a friend as Liz might be, she was still a department shrink and wouldn’t hesitate to file a report on him if she thought he’d lost it. Which she almost certainly would if he blurted out a story like the one Marcus had told him.

No, when he told her what the priest had said—
if
he told her—he’d have to make sure she was at least somewhat receptive first. In the meantime, he needed to keep her away from Alex Jarvis. He shook his head in answer to Liz’s statement. “I’m not expecting much in the way of extraterrestrial testimony, so no, I have no proof. Only my gut.”

Liz remained silent for a long time, staring down the sidewalk at Alex and her companion. At last she shook her head. “I spend my days trying to help people who have delusions like this.”

“Disappearing from a locked room isn’t a delusion, Liz. It’s a fact. It happened. Just like all those impossible pregnancies happened. Just like Chiu’s baby happened.”

Just like Katherine Gray killed herself because she couldn’t handle whatever was growing inside her and Jenna Murphy may very well be telling the truth about her attacker.

Hugh didn’t speak the last part, but Liz’s stare—weighing, considering, wavering—told him she was thinking about the other young women, too. Just when he believed she might relent, however, might allow herself to buy into even a fraction of what he had begun to suspect, she pulled free of his hand.

“You do what you have to. I’m going back to the hospital.”

“That’s it? Life doesn’t fit your parameters so you’re going to pretend it’s not happening? You can’t just keep running away like that.”

“I’m not running away,” she said, “but I can’t accept what you’re saying, either. This wouldn’t be the first instance of mass hysteria, Hugh. Or mass hallucinations. The human mind is extraordinarily complex.”

“You don’t really believe that.”

“I believe exactly that. Science—”

“There are some things in this world science can’t explain. Alex—”

“Alex Jarvis is even further into this delusion than you are. I’m sorry, but if you intend to follow her down this path, you’ll have to do it without me.” Stalking away, Liz looked back over her shoulder a final time. “Let me know if…”

“If?” Hugh prompted when her voice trailed off.

Liz’s flat blue gaze met his. “If you decide you want to talk,” she said. “Professionally.”

A
lex led Aramael down the sidewalk to the far end of the hotel. When she’d put enough distance between them and Henderson and Riley, she stopped and shoved her hands into her pockets. A handful of pedestrians hurried past them. Even at half past seven, most carried briefcases or computer bags—stragglers leaving their offices after another long workday.

“He’s serious about the ten minutes,” she said, nodding toward Henderson. “So start talking.”

“It’s not that easy. There are things happening you know nothing about.”

“You mean the Apocalypse?” She almost laughed at Aramael’s surprise. Almost—except, again, it just wasn’t funny. “Seth told me. Before, when he knew who he was. He called himself Heaven’s contingency plan, but he wouldn’t tell me anything else, so I haven’t been able to help him remember. I thought that was why you were here, that you’d come to remind him, to make him better. But I was wrong, wasn’t I?”