Sins of the Warrior (40 page)

She shook her head. “No,” she said.

Emmanuelle frowned. “No, what?”

“No, I don’t want you to take my immortality. I want to stay with—” Too late, Alex remembered she spoke not only to the ruler of the universe, but also Michael’s own soulmate. Shit. She flushed hot, then cold, bracing for the fallout.

But no divine retribution rained down on her head. Instead, Emmanuelle regarded her with…hope?

“You’re certain?” she asked. “Forever is a very long time, Alex. You’ll still have your memories, you’ll still face losses. And Mika’el…Mika’el will have demons of his own to deal with. It won’t be easy for either of you.”

“Wait.” Alex shook her head in confusion. “You don’t mind? But you—he—”

“I rule Heaven and Earth,” Emmanuelle said. “Even if Mika’el hadn’t fallen, he was right. We’ve seen how badly partnerships end in my line of work.”

Alex couldn’t argue that.

“But that doesn’t mean he shouldn’t have someone,” Emmanuelle continued. “He cares for you, Alexandra Jarvis. And you’ve made it clear you care for him. It won’t be easy for either of you, but together, I’m hoping you both might find more than just survival.”

Alex looked at Michael again. They’d both survived so much. Lost so much. Given so much. Was it really enough on which to build an eternity together?

“Well?” Emmanuelle asked. “The choice is yours.”

Alex slid her arms out of the jacket and handed it back to Emmanuelle, then she turned and walked toward the waiting Archangel. She had no illusions about this. As she had once been connected to Aramael, so would Michael remain connected to Emmanuelle for as long as the two of them existed. But Michael himself had once told her that the soulmate system was imperfect—as flawed as the soulmates themselves were.

As flawed as the Heaven that had created it.

Michael watched her approach, his emerald gaze dark and haunted.

“You’ve made your choice, then,” he said when she reached him.

Alex nodded, and the shadows in his eyes deepened. Powerful wings quivered at his back. He looked past her to where she’d left Emmanuelle. Even before he frowned and his gaze flicked back to her, Alex knew the god was gone.

“I don’t understand,” he said.

Alex held her hand out to him, palm up. “I chose you,” she said simply.

Raw longing shone from Michael’s eyes, but it warred with something darker, and he shook his head. “I’m not what I was, Alex. What I did today—it changed me.”

“I know.” Her hand remained steady between them.

“Why?” he asked.

The words
because I love you
hovered on Alex’s lips, but true as they might be, she held them back. After all she and Michael had been through, all they had done, a declaration of love seemed too easy. Too trite. Each of them had lost a soulmate, a part of themselves, and the place that should have been theirs in life. Their coming together was more than just love. It was all that remained. It was inevitable. It was—

“Right,” Alex told her Archangel. “Because it’s right.”

The emerald gaze held hers for a long, silent moment, and then, at last, Michael lifted his hand and placed it in hers.

Choices
.

ALEX WATCHED THE PLUME
of dust growing closer. Sensing a presence at her shoulder, she looked around to see that Father Marcus had joined her at the top of the stairs. He, too, gazed into the distance as the motorcycle brigade drew nearer.

Alex nodded at the building behind them. “Everyone here?”

Marcus rolled his eyes. “Here, yes. Happy about it, no. Did we really have to haul the Archbishop of Canterbury out of bed and transport him here in his pajamas? And having all those imams in the same room…”

“The Archbishop was issued the same invitation as everyone else,” Alex pointed out. “And the same warning about what would happen if he chose not to attend under his own steam. As for the Imams, I think Emmanuelle can handle them.”

“It’s my nerves I’m more concerned about at the moment,” muttered Marcus. He shook his head. “So many different factions, so many opposing views…things aren’t what one would call amicable in there.”

“And they’re even less amicable out here,” she reminded him. “Marcus, the entire world very nearly came to a premature end, and not just because of the war. You saw how humanity reacted. And now that everyone knows angels and Heaven are real, those idiots”—she jerked her head toward the building and its occupants—”are in a pissing contest over who owns the rights to them. Seriously?”

Marcus took a deep breath and let it out on a sigh. “Religion is a funny thing,” he began.

“Religion,” Alex interrupted, “has no place in the face of truth.”

“Is that what Emmanuelle will tell them?”

Alex watched the long line of bikers come into view. They rode in two lines, side by side, except for the woman alone at the front.

“Among other things, yes.”

“It won’t solve all the world’s problems,” Marcus said. “Especially once she leaves.”

“It’s not supposed to solve all the problems. Humanity is supposed to do that for itself. Choices, remember?”

“But informed ones.”

“Now you’re getting it.”

The line of bikes pulled up in front of the sweep of stairs. Kickstands settled into place. Helmets came off. The woman on the lead bike, a plain, matte-black Harley with a warrior angel engraved on its tank, swung her leg over the leather seat and, eyes hidden behind sunglasses, stood looking up at Alex and Marcus.

At the building her angels had erected for the express purpose of this meeting.

The site had been chosen with care. Kept secret from all but a handful of media invited to record the session. Too isolated for the masses to flock to it. Accessible enough for the participants to reach by car—and for the bikers accompanying Emmanuelle on her final ride.

It would be the one and only time Emmanuelle would expose herself to humanity as the ruler of Heaven. Afterward, the building would come down to ensure it didn’t become another place of pilgrimage the world didn’t need, Emmanuelle would return to Heaven, and the angels who had remained to help restore the cities most damaged by the war would follow her.

Life, in short, would return to normal.

Or at least, its new version of normal.

Alex excused herself to Marcus and walked down to meet Emmanuelle.

“Nice ride in?”

“You have no idea.” Leaning back against the bike, Emmanuelle stripped off her gloves and tucked them into a pocket of her leather jacket. She ran a hand over the seat beside her. “I think I’ve missed riding the most out of everything here.”

“You could always take it with you. There must be places in Heaven you can ride.”

“One day, maybe. I don’t think poor Verchiel could handle it just now, though.” Emmanuelle grimaced. She slid her sunglasses up to rest on top of her head. “She’s having enough trouble with me refusing to wear robes or answer to ‘Eminence’.”

Alex smiled. “She’ll come around.”

“I suppose. In the meantime, don’t be surprised if I drop in for tea now and then when I come back here for a ride.” Emmanuelle’s iridescent eyes turned to her. “If that would be all right with you and Mika’el, of course.”

Alex met her gaze steadily. “You’re always welcome, Emmanuelle.”

Heaven’s ruler gave a tiny nod of acceptance. Appreciation. Shared respect. Then she cleared her throat. “Speaking of Mika’el, how is he?”

“Currently putting Mumbai back together, I believe.”

“I didn’t ask where, Alex.
How
is he?”

Alex hesitated, thinking of the hollowness that continued to haunt Michael’s emerald eyes. The torment he still carried in his soul—and probably always would. She weighed the responses she might make.
Darker than he was before. Lost. Alone even when we’re together. Broken but trying
.

The truth was that falling had nearly destroyed Michael, but he had survived, and he was strong. Stronger than any of them. She shrugged one shoulder.

“He’s getting there,” she said.

Emmanuelle’s mouth tightened, and she looked away, nodding understanding. Alex changed the subject.

“Any word on Jezebel and the…child?”

“Nothing so far. I’m not sure we’ll find them, to be honest.”

Alex shuddered at the idea of Lucifer’s spawn remaining at large in the world. Emmanuelle put a hand on her arm.

“Jez is a good person,” she said. “And you’ve more than proved that a Naphil doesn’t have to make bad choices. So there’s always hope.”

“Sure,” Alex said. “We’ll go with that.”

Emmanuelle snorted at the skeptical tone, then with a sigh, straightened up from her leaning post against her Harley. “Well, I suppose I’ve kept them waiting long enough. Time to go lay down some new laws.”

“You know they won’t be very receptive.”

“Are you kidding? I’m counting on it.” Emmanuelle removed the elastic from her ponytail and shook out her long, dark hair. “God isn’t just a woman, but a biker chick? This will be the most fun I’ve ever had.”

Grinning, she slid her sunglasses back into place and started up the stairs.

“They’ll make demands,” Alex warned. “They’ll want things from you—you know what they’re like.”

They
. Humans. Would it ever not be unnerving that she didn’t identify with her own race anymore?

The new normal.

Emmanuelle stopped halfway up the stairs and turned back to her. A ray of sunlight broke through the clouds, highlighting her and the path she took. She smiled.

“I’m leaving them my finest angel and his immortal consort, Alexandra Jarvis,” she said. “I can give them no greater gift than that.”

She went up a few more stairs, then stopped again, looking back over her shoulder.

“You will look after him for me, won’t you?”

Alex smiled up at Heaven’s ruler, thinking of the Michael she was coming to know so well. His strength. His compassion. His fragility. Thinking how easy it was to make the promise to be with him.

“Forever,” she said.

ALSO BY LINDA POITEVIN

#

The Grigori Legacy Series

Sins of the Angels

Sins of the Son

Sins of the Lost

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The Ever After Series

Gwynneth Ever After

Forever Grace

LINDA POITEVIN
IS A
writer possessed of both a light side and a dark one. On the dark side, she’s the author of the 
Grigori Legacy
, an urban fantasy series featuring a hard-as-nails cop caught up in the war between Heaven and Hell. In her lighter moments, she writes the sweet and funny 
Ever After
 contemporary romance series. And when she’s not plotting the world’s downfall or next great love story, she’s a wife, mom, friend, coffee snob, gardener, walker of a Giant Dog, minion to the Itty Bitty Kitty, and avid food preserver (you know, just in case that whole Zombie Apocalypse thing really happens).
She loves to hear from readers and can be reached through her website at
www.lindapoitevin.com
.