The Grigori Legacy: Sins Of The Lost Part 34

Chapter 81.

With his wings unfurled to their fullest to protect the woman sheltering behind them, Aramael raised his sword to deflect a jagged piece of metal aimed at his head. "By all that is holy, Seth Benjamin, enough!" he shouted.

Nostrils flaring and chest heaving, the Appointed hesitated. Then, returning Aramael's glare, he let his arms drop to his sides. The power that had pressed in on Aramael subsided to a low, sinister pulse.

"You cannot stand against me forever, Archangel," Seth panted, sweat trickling down his forehead. "I'm not one of you. I'm more, remember?"

"Mika'el stood against your father," Aramael reminded him grimly. "And I will stand against you."

"Mika'el had five others of your kind with him. You have a Naphil." Seth spat the word.

"Fine. If you think you can take me, let's not waste time." Shifting his grip on his sword, Aramael spread his feet apart and settled them into the remains of the thin carpet. "Take your best shot."

Seth narrowed his eyes. Shook his head. "You really do care for her, don't you? You can't help but try to save her. It's a compulsion for you."

"And it always will be."

"Then save her from this."

An ominous rumble sounded behind Aramael, followed by the screech of metal tearing under stress. Alex gasped. Whirling, Aramael lifted his wings up and over her just in time to shield her from the collapse of a section of the floor above them. Concrete chunks showered down, battering outspread feathers hardened against attack. Twisted steel beams followed, and then a desk and- He felt a sudden, sharp pain centered in his back, between his wings. Instinctively, he arched away from it, but it followed, pressing into him, piercing deeper. More pain erupted in his chest. He looked down at the jagged metal he had deflected only seconds before, its now crimson tip protruding from the breastplate of his armor. From the inside. Fury at himself joined his rage at Seth. d.a.m.n it, he should have expected that. Wrapping his free hand around the projectile, he braced himself to pull it through-and then stopped. Stared. Went cold. There, mixed in with his blood, traces of phosph.o.r.escence.

Seth's makeshift weapon had pierced his immortality. His gaze sought Alex's, and he saw his shock mirrored there.

b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l.

Steps sounded behind him. Warm breath stirred against his ear.

"There you have it, Archangel. My best shot. Good enough for you?"

Aramael felt Seth seize the metal projectile and twist it. White heat seared through him. His sword dropped to the floor, and he lurched forward, trying to escape.

Too late.

The metal left his body with a wet, sucking snick. His own roar of agony filled his ears even as a part of him distanced itself, shutting out the pain. His knees buckled, and he dropped to the floor. His voice became hoa.r.s.e, trailed away. Another sound penetrated his awareness.

"Aramael? Aramael! G.o.dd.a.m.n it, how do I get you out of this?"

Alex.

She knelt before him, her hands roving frantically over his armor, trying to remove it, to get to his wound. He tangled his fingers in hers, holding fast, shaking his head. Lifted his gaze to hers. To the terror, the denial, the anguish. Failure swelled in him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Don't. Don't you dare. You're not going to die on me, Aramael. I won't let you." She pulled her hands from his and cupped his face. "You can call someone. Call Michael. He'll-"

The pain in his chest sank deeper, radiating inward, brushing against his core. He swayed and would have toppled but for Alex's hold.

"I can't," he said. "I can't call from here. It's too-"

The word far died on his lips. He had been in Heaven when Alex called him. Somehow her voice had done what no angel's could and reached across two realms to pull him to her side. Not even their soulmate connection could fully explain that.

"Alex." He cradled her face, smearing her cheeks with his blood. "Where is Seth?"

"He's over there, watching. He said-" Her voice broke, and she made a visible effort to recover. "He said he would give us time for our good-byes before he-he-"

"Sh." He laid his forehead against hers. The pain sank into his center. He fought it off. "There's one last thing we can try. I can't call Mika'el from here, but you can. Just like you called me."

"But you and I-we're soulmates-"

"It doesn't matter. He'll hear you. I'm sure of it."

He has to.

The pain took on an exquisite edge that stole his breath. He was running out of time. Pulling his wings over her, he tried to shelter her one last time, if only for a few seconds.

"Call," he whispered, willing her to stay strong. "Call Mika'el."

Her eyes-the color of a summer sky-brimmed with tears, and she covered his hands with hers, squeezing fiercely. Desperately.

"I love you," she said. "I tried not to, but I do. I always have."

He pressed his lips to her forehead, drawing on her warmth to ward off the cold in his core for another instant. Another labored heartbeat. "I know," he said. "Now call."

Her gaze locked with his, and he felt her go still. Felt her reach inside herself, past the fear, past the pain. Heard her whisper the name of Heaven's greatest warrior in the very depths of her soul.

Aramael's world went dark.

Chapter 82.

Mika'el strode through the great hall, angels scattering from his path, the other Archangels fanned out behind him in tight-lipped silence. Raphael followed closest, his glowering disapproval a near palpable weight across Mika'el's shoulders. A justified one.

The One had been gone for less than an hour, and already cracks were appearing in Heaven's foundation. For the first time ever, the others questioned Mika'el's judgment. He slammed a fist against a bookcase as he pa.s.sed by, and a collective gasp went through the hall.

He'd been certain Aramael could overcome his connection to the Naphil, but he'd obviously underestimated the former Power's feelings for the woman. Now his newest recruit was imagining a call for help across two realms, and Mika'el had believed him. Let him go. What in the name of the Creator herself had he been thinking? He had b.l.o.o.d.y Armageddon looming and- Michael.

He stopped in his tracks, and the boulder-solid form of Raphael slammed into his back. Armor clanged against armor, underscored by cursing.

"d.a.m.n it, Mika'el, warn me when you're going to-"

"Quiet." Mika'el held up a hand. "Did you hear that?"

Raphael looked up from buffing a scratch on his breastplate. "Hear what?"

Mika'el scanned the faces of the other Archangels. "A voice. Saying my name. None of you heard it?"

Blank looks met his. Heads shook. He scowled. Wonderful. Now he was imagining- Michael!

His head snapped back. That wasn't just his name, it was his Earth name. One that none in Heaven ever called him. He went still, stopped breathing. Impossible. Not even an angel could send forth a summons between Earth and Heaven. There was simply no way a Naphil, thousands of generations removed from her divinity, could achieve such a thing.

Could she?

He whirled. "Azrael, you're in charge here. Nothing gets past that border, understand? The rest of you, with me."

Raphael caught his arm, fingers almost as dark as the armor on which they rested. "Mika'el, what the h.e.l.l is going on?"

"Aramael is in trouble."

Instinctively, almost as one, every Archangel's hand went to the sword hanging at its owner's side. Including Raphael's. Whatever doubts they might have about the Aramael's appointment to their ranks, he was still one of them. Then Raphael's golden eyes narrowed.

"Wait. I thought he went to Earth. To the Naphil."

"He did," Mika'el said. "And I think she just summoned me."

"It's over, Alex."

The voice struck with physical force, each syllable a hammer blow against Alex's soul. Cowering, she held fast to Aramael's hands beneath the protection of his wings.

Hands still warm to her touch.

Still alive, but barely-and for how much longer?

Feathers shifted above her, and for an instant-a brief, cruel instant-her heart soared. It plummeted again when she saw Seth's fingers grip the limp wing and shove it aside. Aramael toppled sideways, resisting her attempts to hold him upright, landing with a soft grunt amid the rubble on the floor. His hands pulled away from hers and dropped to nestle against dull black feathers. The final loss of physical contact was more than she could bear.

She exhaled on a moan of denial, a harsh, monstrous sound that came from the very core of her being. The place where her soulmate resided. Aramael of the stormy gray eyes and bolt-of-lightning touch; Aramael, who had risked falling from Heaven itself for her; Aramael, who had stood by her and protected her life with his own even after she had chosen another over him.

Another, whose hand stretched down to her now, waiting to pull her to her feet.

Fighting to control her breathing and unlock her throat, Alex stared at the outstretched appendage. Slowly, she looked up, following the arm to which the hand was attached; tracking along a shoulder and then a neck; settling on a face. Calm and expressionless, with no reflection of what its owner had just done. No acknowledgment. No remorse. Nothing.

"It's over," the voice repeated, the face's mouth moving with the words.

Rage obliterated all else. Knocking the hand away, she surged to her feet and shoved against Seth's chest. He didn't so much as sway.

"f.u.c.k you!" she bellowed. She shoved again. Then a third time. And a fourth. Each with more fury, more despair, more impotence. The One had been right all along. Seth's choices were at the heart of all of this: Armageddon, the Nephilim babies, everything-and Alex had lost everything because of those choices. Her sister, her niece, Aramael-even the love she had once felt for Seth himself. All were gone from her world, and she could do nothing to bring them back. Nothing to stop what would come next, what hovered just beyond her ability to reason. Panic licked at the edges of her anger. She stopped shoving and started shaking, vibrating from head to toe.

The emptiness that had once been Seth-funny, wry, loving Seth-reached for her. He held her against his chest, his face buried in her hair, and heaved a deep sigh.

"There," he whispered. "Now you're free. There's nothing to stop you from being with me anymore."

"Don't," she choked back. "Please, Seth. Don't."

"Shh." His hands crawled over her, one tangling in her hair, one stroking her back.

She pushed against him. His grip tightened. It began. A tiny, sharp tingle, sparking along the skin of her extremities, crackling with heat. She writhed against his hold.

"d.a.m.n it, Seth, no!"

He ignored her. The heat slithered beneath the surface and traveled along her nerves, her veins. Trickling at first, then increasing to a rush toward her center. Toward her chest. Her struggles increased tenfold. He paid no attention. The heat pooled, intensified-and turned to pure, liquid agony, as if her very heart were melting.

She tried to scream but had no voice.

Then, through the haze that descended, a hand. Strong. Clamping onto her shoulder. Pulling her back, flinging her away. Other hands catching her, pushing her to the floor. The rustle of many wings. And a voice. Michael's voice. Snarling, furious, agonized.

"In the name of all that is holy, Appointed, what have you done?"

Chapter 83.

Mika'el grabbed a panting Seth by the shirtfront, threw him against the remains of a support pillar, and held him there. He shot a look over his shoulder at Uriel, who was bent over the prostrate Aramael. The other Archangel shrugged and shook his head.

Not dead yet, but nothing we can do, the gesture said.

Mika'el turned back to the creature he held. Fury and an overwhelming sense of failed responsibility rolled through him. Aramael had said something was wrong, and now he was dying because Mika'el hadn't believed him. Hadn't bothered to send someone with him. How in all of Creation had he let this happen? He seized Seth by the throat and slammed his head against the pillar.

"d.a.m.n you, Appointed! What in b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l were you thinking? Aramael is the only one who stood by you. He helped you save his own soulmate, knowing she had already chosen you. Do you have any idea what that did to him? What it cost him? This is how you repay him?"

Seth's gaze met his-empty, awful, wrong. "He interfered," he said coldly. "He tried to protect her from me, but she's mine."

"Mika'el," said Raphael.

Mika'el ignored him, glowering at Seth. "He was right to protect her," he snarled. "She has free will. She doesn't belong to anyone. You know that."

"Mika'el."

"I saved her life, Archangel," Seth spat back. "Twice. My soul touched hers. Twice. A part of me resides inside her forever."

"That doesn't make her-"