Mika'el's fingers splintered the wooden rail in his grip. Despair paralyzed his lungs. The One-he slammed a door against the possibility. No. He wouldn't go there. Not before he'd made sure. He felt the eyes of all present turn to him. Sensed them waiting. He spoke to the Virtue.

"Find the Archangels," he ordered. "I want every inch of the border inspected. I'll meet them on the lookout mound."

That would give him just enough time to check on the One.

He turned away from the gallery below and then swiveled back. "Virtue."

The angel, already halfway out the door again, looked around.

"Send someone to see that the armory is ready," he said.

A second's hesitation, then a nod. Mika'el cast a last glance around the room, meeting the shock in the others' eyes. The resignation. He didn't say anything. He didn't need to. They knew.

They just didn't know everything.

He found the One in the rose garden, seated on the bench where they'd conversed so many times before, face turned up to the sun, eyes closed, hands folded in her lap. His steps didn't falter as he crossed the lawn this time. He didn't slow down. The time for being concerned about disturbing her had long since pa.s.sed.

He stopped before her and cleared his throat.

Her eyes remained closed. "I know you're there, Mika'el."

"The h.e.l.lfire fails. I wasn't sure-"

"My son took me by surprise, but I'm fine now."

"You're certain?"

She gave a soft snort. "Well, I'm as fine as I can be given the circ.u.mstances. How's that?"

He smiled even though she couldn't see him. Even though his heart ached with a ferocity that made him want to put a hand to his own chest. "I suppose it will do."

The One exhaled a fluttery sigh. "He's not coming back, is he?" she asked sadly.

He considered lying. Weighed the possibility of telling her that they couldn't be sure yet. Then he shook his head.

"No. No, he's not coming back."

"I'm sorry, Mika'el. I hoped I would be wrong."

We all did.

"Rest," he said. "Get your strength back. I'll have one of the Virtues bring you tea."

His Creator didn't reply.

Chapter 67.

Alex steeled herself, opened Homicide's door, and stepped inside. A dozen heads swiveled instantly in her direction. s.h.i.t. With it being Sat.u.r.day, she'd hoped fewer people would be in. But given the state of affairs in the city, she supposed she shouldn't be surprised. Roberts had warned everyone there would be ample overtime. A woman emerged from the file room at the back of the office. Even, apparently, for the civilian staff.

Steeling herself for the fourteenth time since entering the elevator in the parkade, she forced her feet to carry her into the room. She stopped at the edge of a gathering and nodded at the television they'd been focused on before her arrival.

"Anything important?" Please, please, please don't let it be a rerun of me surviving the explosion in Ottawa. She'd watched the newscast a dozen times last night after Seth left. It had become more d.a.m.ning with every viewing. Anyone who knew her would recognize her, and judging by the silence that greeted her just now, everyone here had.

Her colleagues exchanged glances, and then Joly spoke up. "You haven't heard this morning's news?"

She shook her head. She usually listened to the radio on the way into work, but not today. She hadn't been able to tolerate the noise. Not with so much already going on in her brain.

"The better part of New York State's sh.o.r.eline was. .h.i.t by a freak wave sometime around two a.m. Up to fifteen feet in some places. There are dozens missing, including a Boy Scout troop."

Alex blinked, trying to process his words. "New York City, you mean?" she asked. "The coast?"

Joly shook his head. "Lake Ontario."

"A freak wave. In Lake Ontario."

"From Irondequoit to Lost Nation State Forest. That's where the scout troop was camping. They're calling it a . . ." Joly looked to his partner for help.

"A meteotsunami," Abrams supplied. "A tsunami caused by weather rather than an earthquake."

"Except there was no storm," Bastion added. "Nothing to cause it. Just the wave and more than a hundred miles of sh.o.r.eline submerged."

And now she had the answer to the question that had kept her awake most of the night. Until sheer, crippling exhaustion had sucked her into sleep-around the same time as that wave had struck New York State. Seth had taken back his powers. He was gone. In spite of the veiled threat he'd made as he'd stormed out-"We're nowhere near done"-he'd come around. Seen her point. And left without saying good-bye. d.a.m.n, but she hadn't expected that.

"You're not going to pa.s.s out are you?" Joly peered at her in sudden alarm. "You just went the color of the walls. Are you supposed to be here today? Shouldn't you be at home resting or something?"

Alex huddled into the coat she hadn't yet taken off. "I'm fine," she said gruffly. "Just tired. I should go check in with Roberts."

Her fellow detectives stepped back to make way for her. She pa.s.sed between them, trying not to feel like she was running a gauntlet. She worked with these people. She knew them. They might have questions, but she was still one of them, wasn't she? They'd still have her back, wouldn't they?

Bastion's voice stopped her. "Jarvis. What Joly told you yesterday. He's right. We'll find her for you. Your niece, I mean."

Tears she hadn't been able to find the night before flooded her eyes. Gritting her teeth so hard they hurt, she nodded blindly, not daring to turn, and somehow found her way to Roberts's office door. Her supervisor looked up at her tap, scowled, and beckoned her inside.

"You look like death," he informed her when she pushed the door open. "Why are you here?"

"Could you stay home?"

He sighed and waved her to a seat. "Fine. I needed to talk to you anyway."

Her heart stumbled. Jen? She hadn't called the hospital to check on her, hadn't been able to work up the stomach for it. The thought of her sister tied to a bed- "Jarvis?"

She realized Roberts had been speaking to her. "Sorry, I didn't hear."

"I asked who you p.i.s.sed off in Ottawa. You've been seconded to the RCMP ant.i.terrorism unit. They've set up a-"

Alex bolted upright. "That son of a b.i.t.c.h. I told him I wouldn't go!"

Roberts, his mouth still open to speak, regarded her. Then he stood, crossed the room, and closed the door, shutting out the others' voices, the ring of a telephone, a bark of laughter that was horribly out of place in her world.

"Sit," he ordered. "Talk."

She threw herself back into the chair, wincing at the pull of fabric against the st.i.tches on her thighs and abdomen. "Where do you want me to start?"

Roberts returned to the desk but not his chair. He sat on the edge, one leg dangling, arms crossed, jaw set. "At the beginning," he said. "And I want all of it. It's time."

It took ten minutes to undo all the good accomplished by Michael's little memory-wipe trick two days before-and then some. She started with Caim and Aramael, continued with Seth and Michael and Lucifer, finished with the missing scrolls, her visit to Ottawa, and what Boileau had told her about the children at the study centers-now also missing. When she was done, Roberts remained silent for long seconds, hands on hips, staring out the window behind his desk.

"So let me make sure I have all this straight," he said at last. "Heaven and h.e.l.l are at war on some other plane, but the fighting might spill over to here. Seth, who you've been living with for the past three weeks, is the son of G.o.d and Lucifer-"

"The One," Alex corrected.

Roberts shot her a dark look. "Whatever. You think he's taken back his powers, which might have caused the disturbance in Lake Ontario last night, and gone back to Heaven."

She nodded.

"And now we've lost track of these Nephilim children, and your niece . . ." He shook his head slowly. "You're sure it was Lucifer."

"Positive."

Roberts stared out the window in silence. Then, quietly and succinctly, said, "f.u.c.king G.o.dd.a.m.n son of a b.i.t.c.h."

That pretty much encompa.s.sed it, all right. Alex waited through another silence. She'd had weeks to pull together the details she'd just given her supervisor. Weeks to absorb the new reality of her world. He didn't have that luxury. Roberts scrubbed a hand over his head and swung around to face her. His hands went back to his hips.

"I think I prefer Ottawa's alien theory," he muttered. "At least we might have been able to fight back. But if you're right about this, about angels and Lucifer and Armageddon-how the h.e.l.l do we protect ourselves from that?"

"We don't. The war is between Heaven and h.e.l.l. We have no control over it and wouldn't want to get involved even if we could. What we need to focus on is the human reaction. World Health can cry virus all it wants, but once the rest of the babies are born-"

"Wait. There are more?"

She thought back over her explanation and realized she'd left out that little detail. Probably because it had become so personal now that Nina-she shied away from the idea. Bracing herself to deliver the news, she met her staff inspector's gaze as steadily as she could while wanting nothing more than to crawl under the desk and hide. From him, from the world, from the chaos, from the pain she knew still waited for her whether she found her niece or not.

The door opened, and Bastion's stammer preempted her. "The news-the babies-"

Without a word, she left Roberts to trail in her wake as she followed her colleague out to join the others. She knew what she would hear before she came in range of the newscaster's voice.

Knew, because it had been three weeks since the alley in Vancouver. Three weeks since Lucifer had announced his plans for an army.

Which meant the Nephilim pregnancies had reached term.

All eighty thousand of them.

Less Nina.

Chapter 68.

Striding up the boulder-strewn hill, Mika'el scanned the waiting Archangels and jabbed his finger at Uriel. "Report," he barked.

The fair-haired Archangel didn't so much as blink at the peremptoriness. "Major flickers along the entire length, but it's holding. For now."

"Was it down long enough to get a look at the other side?"

"Word is still coming in, but so far we think in the neighborhood of ten thousand."

"Ten-" Michaela's step hitched. He stopped and scowled. "That's a fraction of their number. Where in b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l are the other ninety?"

"Nearly ten thousand are held in Limbo," Gabriel offered.

"That still puts them down eighty."

"Perhaps they're just not all waiting along the h.e.l.lfire border," Zachariel said. "We're not keeping our entire force there, either."

"No, but we have a great deal more there than they have. Sam-" Azrael shot a quick look at Raphael, whose expression had gone stony, then continued. "Samael knows how we think, and he's too good a strategist to leave their front line so weak."

Mika'el flexed his fingers, stiff inside their armored gloves. His glare pa.s.sed over the group once, twice, and then a third time. He scowled. "Where the h.e.l.l is Aramael? Did he not get an invitation to the party?"

"He did," Raphael said. "I delivered it myself."

Mika'el considered asking if the other Archangel had delivered anything else at the same time, such as an incapacitating beating, but he refrained. Raphael had made his views on Aramael's appointment clear, but he was still one of them. Still an Archangel. He would follow his orders to the letter, whether he agreed with them or not.

Aramael, on the other hand- He'd deal with that issue later. "I think Azrael is right. The Fallen have been waiting more than four millennia for the h.e.l.lfire to weaken, so they won't be just lounging around somewhere. If Samael doesn't have them on the front line, where are they? What are we missing?"

"The Nephilim," said a new voice.

Mika'el glowered over his shoulder. "You're late."

"Verchiel had news she thought you would want." Aramael climbed the last few yards to join them. "Some of the Guardians have reported that the Fallen are watching the pregnant women. They're stopping them from harming either themselves or the babies they carry. Verchiel has sent word to all the Guardians to check in on their wards and report back to her, but I'd say chances are good that's what's keeping the Fallen otherwise occupied at the moment."

Of course. Lucifer would be taking no chances with his army. Mika'el stared out over the barren sweep of land below their vantage point. "If that's the case," he said at last, "this standoff could end at any moment. Let's be ready."

He watched the others depart, each to his or her own duties, and then, turning toward the h.e.l.lfire, he launched himself into the air.