The Grigori Legacy: Sins Of The Lost Part 30

Chapter 69.

Verchiel dropped to her knees beside the frail figure outstretched on the floor. She placed the back of her hand to the One's parted lips, exhaling her own breath only when she felt warmth stir against her skin.

"Who else knows?" she demanded.

The Virtue who had come for her shook her head. "No one, Highest. When I found her like this, I came straight to you."

Thank all of Creation for that. Sliding an arm under the One's shoulders, Verchiel looked up at the Virtue.

"You'd be more help getting her up than just standing there, Sachiel."

"Oh! Oh, of course."

The pet.i.te angel stooped to support the One's other side, and together they lifted her from the floor. Dark eyes, heavy with worry, met Verchiel's.

"She's . . . awfully light," Sachiel murmured.

Insubstantial, Verchiel mentally corrected her. The word you want is insubstantial.

"Put her on the chaise," she directed.

Together they carried their Creator across the room. Pale silver eyes fluttered open as they laid her gently onto the chaise longue. The One looked between them, confusion furrowing her brow, and then her gaze settled on Verchiel.

"My dear, sweet Verchiel," she murmured sadly. "I think all might truly be lost."

Verchiel's stomach made a sickening lunge toward her toes. She leveled a glare at Sachiel, now at the foot of the chaise. "Mika'el," she snapped. "Find him. Now. And, Sachiel, not a word to anyone else. Am I clear?"

The Virtue nodded vigorously and scuttled from the room. Reaching down, Verchiel grasped the blanket folded near the One's feet. She shook it out and placed it over the tiny figure, tucking it tenderly into place. Then she perched on the edge, beside her Creator.

"You should rest before you try to talk," she said. She took the One's hand in her own, trying hard to still the flutterings of panic in her breast. Did they have time to let her rest, or . . . ?

"What can I do?" she asked.

"I'm afraid there's nothing anyone can do. Not anymore." Anguish clouded her silver eyes. "I thought I would be all right once Seth took back his powers, but I underestimated the effect on me. I'm worn out, Verchiel. Weak. Lucifer's army has been born, and now he will destroy everything I have ever created, everything I have ever loved, and I won't be able to lift a hand against him."

The One gave a bitter laugh and raised her free hand, frail and almost translucent. "At the rate I'm fading, I won't have a hand to lift. And all because I waited too long. Trusted too much. Loved too completely."

The One's eyes drifted closed as Verchiel sought words of comfort. But if such words existed, she couldn't find them. Not when she knew what was in store for humanity and angelkind alike. For all of them. She stared out the window at the gardens, gripping the One's hand and hoping that her presence brought some modic.u.m of ease, until a small sound from the doorway drew her attention. Sachiel.

She raised an eyebrow, and the Virtue tiptoed in, glancing anxiously at the resting figure on the chaise.

"Did you find him?" Verchiel asked.

The Virtue shook her head. "He and the others are patrolling the h.e.l.lfire. I've sent a messenger, but it will take time."

She would have to handle this on her own, then. Verchiel waited for the tightness in her throat to subside before she dismissed Sachiel. The One's eyes opened and followed the Virtue's departing form. Then she withdrew her hand from Verchiel's and tucked it beneath the blanket.

"I think I'll rest for a bit," she said. "When Mika'el returns, will you send him to me?"

"Of course." Verchiel rose and then impulsively, swiftly, stooped to press her lips to her Creator's forehead. "Just so you know, none of this changes how much we love you," she whispered, her voice fierce. "Forever."

The One turned her head away.

Verchiel remained beside her for a few seconds more, staring down, hurting for herself and the others, but mostly for the One. To have been so much, so great, so powerful, and then-this. Condemned to fade away with agonizing slowness, knowing that all she had created would fade along with her? It was wrong. Verchiel lifted her chin.

It was wrong, and it wasn't going to happen.

Not if she could help it.

Chapter 70.

Alex stared at the television screen long after someone-she didn't see who-switched it off. Silence hung over the room, heavy with unease, thick with disbelief. Beside her, Joly rubbed his mustache, making a harsh rasp of sound in the stillness. Alex inhaled. Exhaled.

"How many?"

Roberts's voice made her jump. She looked around and found him standing gray-faced and grim at the edge of the group.

"How many?" he repeated. He waved at the television. "Of them."

Them. The babies. Babies who would become soldiers in Lucifer's army against humanity.

"A lot," she said. She hesitated, debating the wisdom of holding this conversation in front of the others. But if the media were already reporting the births, there seemed little point in hiding what she knew from the people she worked with. The people she trusted most in the world. Especially when it was only a matter of time before the numbers became obvious.

Her gaze swept over her colleagues, returned to Roberts. "Eighty thousand."

"Eighty . . ." Joly trailed off. His shock was mirrored in the others' faces.

Roberts cleared his throat. " "d.a.m.n," he said. "And the women-?"

"All of them."

"What the h.e.l.l, Jarvis?" Abrams shoved himself upright from the desk he'd been leaning on. "How can you know numbers like that? What do you know that you're not-"

Their supervisor cut him off. "Not now, Abrams."

"But-" Abrams met Roberts's hard look and subsided with a mutter.

Roberts turned back to Alex. "This is why Ottawa wants you."

"Yes."

"Can you do anything?" he asked.

"I've already told them everything I know, so . . . no. I can't."

Her supervisor studied the floor at his feet. "My hands are tied, Alex. The order is signed by the security minister himself."

d.a.m.n Boileau.

"I'm not going. Not until I find Nina."

Alex watched Roberts's mouth compress. At last he nodded.

"I'll tell them," he said. "Is there anything else I need to-"

A shudder rippled through the floor. Before anyone could do more than look puzzled, Homicide's main door blasted inward. It sailed halfway across the room, narrowly missing Raymond Joly's head before landing at their feet. Detectives and office staff alike scrambled for whatever cover was nearest. Almost as one, those that were cops drew their weapons and pointed them at the man standing in the doorway. All but Alex, whose heart turned to lead.

"Seth," she whispered.

Chapter 71.

Lucifer approached the lone figure waiting by the water, crimson robes billowing about her. Innate caution kept his gaze roving the deserted land and seascape, but he saw no other presence, angelic or otherwise. Felt nothing amiss. His hand closed over the folded note handed to him by one of the Fallen a few minutes before. He was still reeling from its receipt. Heaven's Highest Seraph, requesting an audience with him.

Not even demanding.

Requesting.

He reached the angel at the sea's edge and stood beside her. "You wanted to see me."

"Yes. Thank you for coming."

He raised an eyebrow. Shot another suspicious look at their surroundings. "Please and thank you. Not words I ever expected to hear from the Highest Seraph."

"She's dying, Lucifer."

Shock threatened to drop him to his knees before he shook it off. Don't be ridiculous. She can't mean- The Highest Seraph turned to him, her face lined with weariness, worry, despair. His shock returned, ricocheting through his soul with the speed of an Archangel's sword and wreaking nearly as much damage. He staggered, caught himself, managed to remain upright. He was the Light-bearer. He would not fall before one of Heaven.

"I don't believe you," he said. I can't believe you. "She is the One, the Creator of All. She can't just die."

Destroy herself in the process of ending him, perhaps, but die?

"She can, and she is."

"But-how?"

"Seth. The powers he gave up were damaging the Earth. Controlling them, stabilizing them, took everything she had."

"He took his powers back. We all felt it. She'll recover."

The Seraph shook her head. "I hoped for that, too, but it's getting worse. She's . . . fading. She doesn't have much time left, and she no longer has the ability to do what she'd hoped."

"To what, lead Heaven against me?" he snarled. "You think I'm going to feel bad about that?"

"She wanted to bind with you."

It wasn't the response he'd expected. It wasn't even within the realm of what he might have imagined.

"Bind with me?"

"She never stopped missing you, Lucifer. You are her Light-bearer, her helpmeet, her other half. There was-is-no other way she can be with you again."

Odd, how difficult it had become to breathe. He flared his nostrils. Narrowed his eyes. Regarded the Seraph with suspicion. "What exactly are you asking of me, Seraph?"

"I'm asking you to do what she cannot."

"Give up my fight, you mean?" He gave a bark of laughter. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? Did Mika'el put you up to this? Or was it she herself?"

"Neither of them knows I've come to you, and it's not about giving up the fight, it's about understanding that there is no more fight. Not for you, and not for her." Her pale blue eyes regarded him steadily, sadly, seeing far more of him than he would have liked. "Everything you've done, everything you are-all of it is because of the love you bear for her. Because you hope-have always hoped-that she would see her folly and return you to her side. But now-Lucifer, if she dies without you now, you'll have lost one another for eternity."

The words, stark and untempered, drove the wind from him as nothing else could have done. He walked away, to the very edge of the water washing onto the sand in slow, rhythmic waves. It was a trick. It had to be a trick, because it couldn't be real. The One couldn't simply stop existing.

But if he believed, even for an instant, that the Highest Seraph told the truth, that she might be right- A great, shuddering breath rose in him. He had to know. Had to see for himself. Then he would decide what to do. He turned back to the crimson-robed angel who waited.

"The Archangels?"

"Patrolling the h.e.l.lfire, but I have sent for Mika'el."

He looked out over the water again. There would be risks. A chance that the Seraph lied to him, that this was all an elaborate trap. He examined his heart to see if the knowledge changed anything. It did not. He still needed to know.

"Understand that I make no promises," he said.

The Highest Seraph nodded. "I know."