"Jen?" Alex held the cell phone away to make sure the call was still connected. She put it back to her ear. "Are you still there?"

"I-you-" Jen paused. "You don't know."

"Know what?" Alex saw Roberts emerge from his office, scan the room, focus on her. He pointed, then jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. You. In here. Now. She nodded and held up a finger. One minute. She returned her attention to her sister, who hadn't answered. "Jennifer, what don't I know?"

"I thought-it's past ten. I thought you would have found out by now."

"I just got into the office. We had a shooting last night-" Alex broke off and shook her head. None of that mattered. Not to Jen, anyway. "Can we speed this up? Roberts wants to see me. What haven't I found out yet?"

"You know I love you, right?" Jen asked. "And I'd do anything for you. You know that."

The blood in Alex's veins turned cold. Slowed to a sluggish trickle. "What's going on, Jennifer Abbott? What have you done?"

A defensive note entered her sister's voice. "It's for your own good, Alex. You've been under so much pressure since-since the fire and everything. And I'm not the only one who's worried."

"Jennifer."

"Jarvis!" Roberts still stood in the doorway. "Today!"

He turned and disappeared into his office, giving her a clear view of the desk within, the chairs in front it-and the gray-haired woman seated in one of those chairs. Alex lowered the phone from her ear and slid it closed on her sister's rambling explanation as the woman turned.

What in h.e.l.l was Elizabeth Riley doing in Toronto?

"You don't look particularly pleased to see me." Elizabeth Riley stayed seated as Alex stepped into Roberts's office and closed the door. Her sharp blue eyes watched Alex from behind wire-framed gla.s.ses.

"I'm not. I mean, I am, but-" Alex paused, took a firmer grip on the thoughts milling through her brain, and tried again. "Did Henderson send you? Is he all right? What's wrong?"

"He was fine when he dropped me off at the airport last night, and nothing is wrong." Her lips pursed. "Well," she added, glancing at a stoic Roberts, "nothing more than usual, anyway."

"So you're here because . . . ?"

"Dr. Riley is here at the force's request," Roberts said, and her gaze flew to his. Or tried to, except he refused to meet it. "Please. Sit."

She remained standing, fingers locked over the back of the chair beside Riley. The force's request? Understanding gelled. Her sister's phone call. Jen had known about this. She'd been in on it. They'd all been in on it: Jen, Roberts, Riley, Henderson-it was a G.o.dd.a.m.n conspiracy. Alex scowled, but Roberts held up a hand, cutting her off.

"I'm going to get straight to the point, Detective. Dr. Bell went over my head to the chief. I've been told that you either voluntarily put yourself into therapy or I'm to suspend you."

She actually rocked back on her heels for an instant, so startled was she by the announcement. She gaped at her staff inspector. "You're serious. When did you find out?"

"The same day I returned you to duty."

Alex did a quick calculation and realized with a start that what seemed a lifetime ago had only been three days. So-the closer Armageddon got, the faster time pa.s.sed? Great. And now she was to be saddled with Riley and "therapy" as well? She favored the psychiatrist with a baleful look but directed her words to Roberts. "You couldn't have told me then?"

"It wouldn't have made a difference. This was out of both our hands."

"Still-"

"Besides, given all that's going on, it might not be a bad idea."

All that's going on? Alex stood for a long moment without responding, going first cold, then hot. An iron band closed around her chest. Tightened. You have no G.o.dd.a.m.n idea what's going on.

Roberts continued. "Dr. Riley is here because you need the support. I know the signs of trouble, Alex, and I'm seeing them in you."

Aware of Riley's keen observation, Alex lifted her chin and stepped back from the chair's support. "I don't have time for this. I have files to-"

"Make time." Roberts's uncompromising voice stopped her at the door. "I meant what I said about not wanting to lose you."

Then don't make me dredge up things that are best left buried.

"Staff-"

"It's an order, Detective."

Anger flared inside her. Sudden, icy, raw. The tiny little cracks that had begun forming in her facade over the last few days widened. Roberts and Riley wanted her to talk? To share her secrets? Fine. She spun to face them.

"Maybe you're right," she said. She flicked a look from her boss to the psychiatrist. "Maybe I do need to get some things off my chest. What do you suggest we start with, Dr. Riley? Oh, I know. How about the nightmares I keep having about eighty thousand Nephilim babies being turned into Lucifer's army against humankind? That has to be worth a session or two, don't you think? Or maybe we should talk about how my angel soulmate has been put in charge of protecting me from the Fallen One that's been following me. Too complicated? No problem, I have lots of other issues we can discuss instead. In fact, here's a real doozy. Why don't we talk about how I haven't been able to let the One's son touch me because I can't get past his father raping me?"

Roberts made an odd choking noise and went pale. Riley regarded her narrowly.

s.h.i.t. She hadn't intended to blurt out that last one.

"Alex-" Riley began.

"Don't," she grated, hating that the door at her back was all that held her upright. "You could have backed me up from the start, Riley. You could have told him everything he needed to know over the phone."

"No. I couldn't. Not in good conscience," the psychiatrist said, "and not when I agree with him. I told you in Vancouver that you can't keep pretending you can do this alone. You need to talk-"

"No," Alex snarled. The remainder of her facade shattered, raining across her psyche in shards and drifting dust. "I don't. In fact, you know what? I don't need to do any of this. Not anymore. I'm done. With you, with them, with everything. As far as I'm concerned, the entire G.o.dd.a.m.n world can go to h.e.l.l."

She wrenched open the door and stalked out of Roberts's office through the silence, past the stares, and away from Aramael.

Chapter 32.

b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l. Aramael stared after Alex as the outer office door swung shut behind her. The shock of a dozen mortals lay like a weighted blanket over the room. Only a few had been close enough to Roberts's office to hear her actual words, but those words would spread faster than wildfire when people began talking. Murmurings had already started. b.l.o.o.d.y, b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l.

Aramael hesitated, torn between going after her or attempting some kind of mitigation in her wake. No. Like it or not, he would have to leave Alex unprotected for an instant. Heaven itself needed to get involved in this crisis. This-all of this, including Alex right now-was beyond his ability to contain. He strode toward the file room at the back of the office and, as soon as he was out of sight of prying eyes, pulled out of the mortal realm.

Verchiel, blessedly, was in her office and on her feet the instant she saw him.

"Aramael! The woman-what's wrong?"

"We have a problem." He filled her in on the past few mortal minutes. "We need to do some kind of damage control. The mortals-"

"You know we cannot interfere like that."

He scowled. "Excuse me?"

"What's done is done, Aramael. It is beyond our control."

"Verchiel, she just told half her colleagues about Armageddon. We cannot sit by and do nothing."

"We can." She held up a hand to forestall his words. "And we must. The mortals are going to have to handle a great deal if Lucifer's plan for the Nephilim comes to fruition. Perhaps it is for the best that they know."

"Then you'll lose her."

"I don't understand."

Clenching his hands, he shoved aside the ache in his chest. "Her relationship with Seth is in crisis," he said. "She's-"

"You haven't-"

"No," he snarled. "I haven't. May I finish?"

Lips pursed, Verchiel waved at him to continue.

"Alex is already dealing with more than any mortal has ever had to. Her outburst today won't necessarily be believed by her colleagues, but it will almost certainly ostracize her from them. If that happens, she's going to break."

A tiny frown appeared between the Highest's brows. "This is speculation on your part."

Aramael thought of the ravage he'd seen in Alex's eyes as she emerged from Roberts's office and realized her words had been overheard. The spark of something in her that he'd watched flicker, gutter, and then die.

"It's fact, Verchiel. If you don't fix this, you'll lose her." The wings at his back fought to unfurl against his next words. He held them-and his voice-rigidly in check. "And if you lose her, I guarantee you'll lose any chance at Seth."

Verchiel stared down at her desk. Then, with a sigh, she rose to her feet. "Go back. Watch her. I'll take care of the mortals who overheard. Mika'el will speak with the woman."

Chapter 33.

Alex slammed into the bathroom stall, sat on the closed lid of the toilet, and stared at the beige metal door. She tangled her fingers into her hair and held tight as a great shudder rolled through her. Then another. d.a.m.n, she'd handled that badly. The memory of her supervisor's shock surfaced. Hysteria bubbled inside her chest. Handled it? Who the h.e.l.l was she trying to kid? She hadn't handled anything. She'd lost it. Totally and completely. Lost it, made an a.s.s of herself, and let her supervisor and Riley in further than she'd ever intended. Further than she'd ever let anyone.

Further than she could afford.

She closed her eyes, recalling the collective shock that had greeted her as she'd stormed out of Roberts's office. She'd raised her voice as she'd struck out at Riley and Roberts-but how loud? How much had her colleagues overheard? She cringed from the memory of her words. Words filled with truths none of them should know, truths that would give Bell all the ammunition he needed to deep-six her career if he heard about them. When he heard. Because given the number of open mouths when she'd stormed out of Roberts's office just now, it wouldn't take long for the grapevine to do its damage.

h.e.l.l.

The exterior bathroom door opened. Closed. Footsteps crossed the tile floor.

"Alex, it's Elizabeth."

Her eyes flew open, and she glared at the beige stall door.

"I owe you an apology," Riley continued. "I should have antic.i.p.ated that things would deteriorate after you left Vancouver. Springing my presence on you in that fashion was badly thought out. I'm sorry."

Badly thought out? It was a G.o.dd.a.m.n ambush.

"Poor judgment aside, however, circ.u.mstances remain unchanged. On Dr. Bell's recommendation, you're required to attend daily sessions with a therapist. Staff Roberts felt-and I agreed-that you might be more comfortable with me than with Dr. Bell. The decision, of course, is yours."

Only with the greatest effort did Alex remain seated and not barge out of the stall. She gaped at the door. After her outburst in Roberts's office, to hear Riley speaking with such calm, such reasonableness, as if Alex was just the run-of-the-mill, overstressed cop- It was no b.l.o.o.d.y wonder the psychiatrist irritated her so much.

Riley sighed and her voice softened. "d.a.m.n it, Alex, I'm not the ogre you think I am. Talk to me. Give me a chance to help you."

Alex blinked away an unexpected haze.

Another sigh from outside the stall. Then Riley returned to her usual brisk, professional self. "Have it your way, then, but I'm not giving up and you're not getting out of this. Bell isn't the only one who thinks you need to talk, and your performance just now only makes me more certain. Staff Roberts has arranged the use of an office for me while I'm here. I'll leave the information on your desk. As there's never any time like the present, we'll start this afternoon. I'll expect you at two o'clock."

Hollow footsteps retreated, pausing at the door. "And, Alex, if you're considering skipping, don't. Not if you want to remain on the job."

Door open.

Door closed.

Alex sagged, body, mind, and soul. So that was it. She'd run out of time and escape routes. If she wanted to have any impact at all on this whole mess, then she truly had no choice. She was going to have to finally succ.u.mb to having someone poke around in her head and, worse, her heart. And she'd have to do so while facing the stares and murmurs behind her back from everyone in the office who'd heard her outburst.

Her brain snagged on one thought that stood out from the rest, and the more she circled it, the more ludicrous it became. She thought she could have an impact? By doing what, running around after a handful of human murderers in the midst of everything the world faced? Who the h.e.l.l was she trying to kid? What difference would her efforts make in a war between supernatural beings that could-and would-wipe out the entire mortal race? What-the outer washroom door opened again.

"Naphil?"

She stared at the beige metal between her and Michael. Now what?

"Are you all right?"

Whatever had begun to give way inside her in Roberts's office snapped. She stood, slammed open the stall door, and glowered at the Archangel in the main doorway. "You have got to be joking."

Michael's dark brows meshed.

"No," she said. "No, Michael, I am not all right. I will never be all right. None of us will be. Your precious One has made certain of that."

Glancing over his shoulder, Michael stepped inside the washroom. He closed the door behind him, keeping one hand braced against it. "Humanity has played a role in this, too, Naphil. You've had free will since your creation. You've been responsible for your own decisions, your own choices, for millennia. Yet look where you are, at what you've accomplished."

"Some of us. Not all."