Sins of the Son: The Grigori Legacy (10 page)

“We can’t win, can we?” she asked.

“Not the way we’d hoped, no. But we can try to mitigate the damage.”

“By forcing Lucifer’s hand? The moment Seth is dead, there will be nothing to stop the Light-Bearer from engaging us in immediate war.”

“Except a Nephilim army.”

The cold sickness rose again in Verchiel’s belly. “He grows their numbers.”

“And the longer we put off war, the greater those numbers will become.”

“You don’t plan to wait for him to strike the first blow.”

“I do not.”

“The One won’t allow it.”

“The decision is mine.”

“But if Lucifer finds out we’ve assassinated his son, we forfeit the agreement. What then?”

Mika’el looked over his shoulder. Emerald eyes blazed from a face that might have been carved from granite, it had gone so still. So hard. “Then,” said Heaven’s greatest warrior, “we face consequences none of us ever imagined. The Power’s whereabouts, Seraph. Now.”

A
lex clipped her visitor tag to her blazer lapel and followed Dr. Riley into the elevator. The psychiatrist hadn’t said a word since their exchange in the vehicle, other than to issue terse directions when she wanted Alex to do something.

“In here.”

“Over there.”

“Sign this.”

And now, “This way.”

Alex’s mouth tightened. If the good doctor was trying to wear her down, it wouldn’t work. She had ample experience at waiting out the most stubborn of suspects—and little patience with people who tried to get into her head. She’d spent a lifetime protecting her innermost secrets; she wasn’t about to cave after a half hour with some shrink who had her panties in a twist.

She settled against the elevator wall, careful to keep her body language non-confrontational. Arms at her sides, rather than crossed; posture relaxed; expression neutral. She thought about the man she was about to see. No. Not a man.
Not if it was Seth, and she was almost certain it was. The picture had been too clear for any doubts, no matter what she’d told Dr. Riley. She flicked a glance at her silent companion. When she could no longer avoid the issue, what would she tell the psychiatrist?

Whatever she decided to say, it wouldn’t go over well.

Nor could it be the truth.

The elevator doors slid open and Alex glanced at the illuminated display. Eleventh floor. This was it. She took a deep breath and wiped her palms against her jacket. Dr. Riley’s sharp gaze tracked the movement. Alex dropped her hands again, determined not to add to the other woman’s arsenal.

They walked down the corridor to the nurse’s station. The security guard handed over a key and pressed a button to release a door to their left. Alex raised an eyebrow.

“You locked him up?”

“For his own safety as well as ours. We don’t know who he is or where he’s from, or that he doesn’t have a violent background.”

Sudden doubt reared in Alex. She couldn’t imagine Seth remaining locked up like this. Maybe it wasn’t him after all. Or worse, maybe it was, and something had gone terribly wrong. More wrong than simple amnesia.

How could Heaven’s contingency plan save humanity if he had no powers?

Realizing Dr. Riley stood in the open doorway, waiting, Alex hurried to join her. Riley raised an eyebrow, but Alex ignored the unspoken demand for explanation and trailed the doctor into the ward. On the other side of the door, a woman stood, pressed against the wall, dressed in a hospital gown. Sharp eyes peered out from behind strands of gray hair, tracking Alex. Gritting her teeth, Alex wondered if she would ever leave the memories of her mother behind.

Riley touched her arm. “I should have warned you,” she said. “Are you all right?”

Alex pulled away from both the touch and the unexpected compassion. Bell had told her? That son of a bitch. She’d
have his balls on a platter for this.
Patient confidentiality, my ass.
“I’m fine,” she said. “Thank you.”

Riley studied her for a long moment, gaze frankly assessing, then nodded. “Right. Let’s go meet our John Doe, then, shall we?”

Alex shoved the past back into the mental closet where it belonged and followed Riley. When she got back to Toronto—
if
she got back—she would skewer Dr. Bell for his unprofessional conduct. Reaching the end of the hall, Riley inserted the key into a door on the left-hand side and pushed into a room.

Alex drew a deep breath and followed. Inside, she scanned her surroundings with a cop’s attention to detail that was as much a part of her as her own skin. Walls and ceiling painted institution green, floor tiled beige. Ceiling light flush-mounted behind a protective metal grate. Bathroom, no mirror, off to one side. A basic cot in one corner, bolted to the floor. One window, grated, across from where Alex and Riley stood.

And one man at that window, his back to Alex, standing almost exactly as he had when she’d first seen him on her front porch.

Seth.

Alex stared at him, ignoring Riley’s watchful presence at her side. He was just as big as she remembered. Just as powerful. And, at first glance, just as imposing. But even before he faced her, she sensed a change in him. An emptiness.

The aura that seemed to reduce the rest of the world’s size in comparison to him was gone, along with the overwhelming presence that had once made her want to back away even as it had threatened to draw her in. She met his gaze across the room and saw—nothing. No recognition, no interest, no spark of identity.

He stared at her for several long moments, and then left the window and shambled toward her. Not even his gait remained as she remembered.

Seth on the outside.

Empty on the inside.

Loss tightened Alex’s throat. Her last hope, her last possible connection to Aramael, dissolved in the pale afternoon light of reality.

Stopping in front of her, Seth’s gaze locked with hers. She waited, and then, without warning, he smiled—a familiar, crooked, quirky half smile—and reached out to brush a strand of her hair back from her face. A bottomless sadness opened in his dark eyes.

“Alexandra Jarvis,” he whispered.

Elizabeth Riley’s keys hit the floor. Seth’s eyes followed the sound, lifted to the psychiatrist, and then grazed over Alex, empty once more. Shuffling back to the window, he resumed his vigil.

Riley cleared her throat. “Well. I guess that settles it. He’s who you thought.”

Alex nodded, her mouth too dry for speech. She sensed Riley’s gaze on her, but couldn’t pull her own from Seth’s broad back. Couldn’t shut down the memories his touch had triggered.

Aramael. Caim. Hatred that had spanned millennia. An encounter with evil that had left her torn and battered and clinging to life by a gossamer thread. Murder. Seth’s hands, healing her. And a loss so profound she was certain she would never recover.

“Detective.”

Riley touched her arm and Alex jumped, her reverie shattered. She stared at the shorter woman, who peered over her glasses in return.

“Are you all right?”

Alex forced a nod. A smile. “Fine. Thanks.”

But she wasn’t fine. Didn’t know what she was, but it wasn’t anywhere near fine. Whatever she’d expected coming out here, it hadn’t been the discovery that she was nowhere near as strong or put together as she’d believed. Or that Heaven’s contingency plan had failed before it began.

“Hmm. Well, I assume you’re ready to talk to me now you’ve identified our John Doe.” Riley stooped to retrieve
her keys and, without waiting for an answer, tugged open the door. She stood, holding it wide, and looked askance at Alex.

Alex cast a last glance at the broad-backed man at the window. “I’ll be back soon,” she said.

The hollow Seth gave no indication he heard.

R
ILEY LED ALEX
to an office tucked away behind the nurse’s station they’d passed when they’d come in. Alex declined coffee, accepted water, and settled in to wait for the inquisition, still with no idea what to say that would even half satisfy the questions she saw behind Riley’s eyes. The doctor settled into the chair behind the desk.

“Seth Benjamin,” Alex offered.

Riley shot her a sharp look. “What?”

“That’s his name. Seth Benjamin.”

Riley made a notation on a pad of paper before her. “What else?”

They call him the Appointed. He’s an angel…or something like one. He saved my life. He’s here to stop Heaven and Hell from going to war. To save humanity from annihilation.

“Nothing.” Alex sighed. Setting the glass of water on the edge of Riley’s desk, she leaned forward to rest her elbows on her knees. She rubbed a hand over her eyes. “I really don’t know anything about him. He was a—friend of a friend. I only met him a few times.”

Riley’s gaze burned a hole into the top of her skull. She didn’t look up. It was true, after all. Beyond Seth’s name and the fact he could heal mortal wounds and disappear in the blink of an eye, she knew nothing about him.

God damn. It would have been
so
much simpler if she’d turned out to be nuts rather than tapping into this whole divinity thing. A nice padded cell somewhere sounded pretty good at the moment.

“And this friend?” the psychiatrist asked.

“He—” Alex waited for the spasm in her heart to pass. “He’s gone.”

“Gone. As in dead or disappeared?”

A little of both, Alex supposed. But again, a truth better kept to herself. She opted for the answer she hoped would bring fewer questions. “Dead.”

“Dr. Bell didn’t mention anything about you having lost a friend. Have you told him?”

Alex considered pointing out to Riley that Bell had no business mentioning anything, but decided it was unwise to antagonize the woman. She would deal with Bell later.

“No. It was—complicated. And very personal.”

“I see. And Mr. Benjamin? How did he fit in with this friend?”

“I’m not sure. Like I said, I didn’t know him well.”

“But well enough to recognize his picture and fly across the country on your own
personal
time to see him.”

At last Alex raised her head. She sat back in her chair and reached for her water. “Well enough for that, yes.”

“And well enough for your name to be the first and only thing he’s uttered since we found him.”

“Apparently.”

“Detective—”

The phone on Riley’s desk rang, cutting off what Alex was certain would have been the beginning of a lecture. Not that she would have blamed the psychiatrist. She’d handled enough evasiveness in her own career to know exactly how frustrating it could be. If she were in Riley’s shoes, she’d be lecturing, too. Or threatening.

Riley lifted the receiver. “Elizabeth Riley.”

Letting her attention drift away from the doctor, Alex studied the room, noting the multiple diplomas hanging on the wall behind the desk, the file cabinet in one corner, the lush greenery sitting on the windowsill, and the lack of any other personal clutter or ornamentation of any kind. Not so much as a vase or a photo stood anywhere in sight. Lifting a brow, Alex looked over her shoulder at the shelves behind
her but found nothing except books—in alphabetical order according to author, no less.

Her gaze settled on the file cabinet, its lock button pushed in to secure the contents.
Seth is in there. Everything Riley knows about him. Maybe with details that can help me figure out what went wrong…

A sharp note in the psychiatrist’s voice tugged Alex’s attention back to the woman behind the desk.

“Well, the ultrasound technician was wrong, then, wasn’t she?” Riley said to the person at the other end. “How is she doing?” Her frown deepened. “Of course. Yes, I’ll be there in about—” she glanced at her watch, then at Alex. “Hold on.”

She placed a hand over the receiver.

“I have a patient who’s just gone into labor under somewhat unusual circumstances. She isn’t handling it at all well—can you take a cab to your hotel?”

“Of course.”

“Five minutes,” Riley said into the phone. She hung up and stood. Taking her keys from her pocket, she dropped them onto the desk. “You’ll need your luggage from my car. Leave the keys at the information desk downstairs when you’re done. And the name of your hotel. And, Detective, just so you understand, we are far from being done here.”

Alex reached for the keys, noting that one of the bunch looked like it might fit a file cabinet. She weighed temptation against consequences; the possibility of the Apocalypse against Riley’s reaction to finding her rooting through confidential files.

The Apocalypse won.

“Doctor, is there a washroom I can use before I head out?”

Already on her way to the door and thoroughly distracted, Riley waved a vague hand. “Down the hall, first left turn, door on the right. If you get lost on the way out, one of the staff will direct you.”

The psychiatrist disappeared out the door. Alex waited, jingling the keys she held, watching the hands on a wall
clock inch forward. When five minutes had passed without Riley returning, she stood, took a deep breath, crossed to the file cabinet, and inserted the key. Hoping to hell the doctor didn’t have a video camera set up to record patient appointments, she released the lock.

A hand closed over her wrist.

“J
esus Christ!”

Alex wrenched her wrist from Seth’s grip, her heart threatening to explode from its new residence in her throat. Dark, fathomless eyes met hers. She drew a ragged breath and sagged against the file cabinet she’d been about to invade.

“God damn it, you took twenty years off my life—wait. How did you get in here?” She glanced past his shoulder at the office door. No attendant waited. She looked at Seth again. “Seth? How did you get out of your room? It was locked. And there’s a security—”

“Seth,” he repeated, his gaze clouding. His brow furrowed.

“That’s your name, yes. Seth Benjamin.”

He extended a hand and Alex stiffened when his fingers traced the scars left by Caim’s claws. Seth tipped his head to one side.

“Alexandra Jarvis. I know you.”

“You remember?”

Again a cloud passed across his eyes. “I don’t know remember.”