Read Online Sins of the Lost by Linda Poitevin - Free Book Online Page B

Archangel, Mika’el. He has walked among the humans before, and is less likely to draw attention to himself.”
    “He still feels a connection to her.”
    Her lips pursed. “Another reason it should be him. The others will follow orders as best they can, but in their eyes, the woman remains tainted by her bloodline. None will fight harder to keep Samael away from her than he will. None will give up his own life for hers.”
    “Is that what we want? An Archangel giving up his life for a Naphil?”
    “Of course not. But if Hell is interested in her, then you can’t risk her, either. Not until you know
why
they’re interested.”
    Twisting the chair back and forth again, Mika’el studied her. “You never used to be this”—he hesitated to use the word
cold
—“pragmatic.”
    “I never used to be responsible for Heaven trying to save the world, either. I don’t
like
what I suggest, but neither do I see a choice.”
    Verchiel rose with a rustle of robes. Crossing to the door, she reached for the handle, then looked over her shoulder. “And, Mika’el, just so you’re clear, you
will
need the Naphil’s courage. If we’re to convince Seth to return to his rightful place here, with us, you’ll need all the courage she possesses and more.”

Chapter 15
    The scuff of boot against rock snagged Aramael’s attention. He looked down the mountainside to see Raphael emerge from a crevice. The Archangel’s dark skin was almost indistinguishable from the black armor he wore, making him little more than a massive shadow amid the many other shadows.
    Albeit one with a sizable grudge.
    Raphael paused and stared up. Aramael couldn’t see his eyes, but he felt his gaze—and the animosity behind it. He returned to his vigil, resting his right hand on the hilt of his sword. Raphael’s glowering looks over the last few days had made it clear their previous encounter hadn’t been forgotten. Frankly, Aramael was surprised it had taken him this long to get around to a confrontation.
    The other Archangel crested the hill, the reflection of the distant flames of Hellfire dancing across his burnished face.
    “News?” Aramael asked, careful to keep his voice even. Mika’el would be pissed in the extreme if two of Heaven’s protectors went at each other; Aramael had created quite enough conflict in the world without starting something else here now.
    “You know that’s not why I’m here.” Raphael stopped a half dozen feet away.
    Aramael’s fingers contracted on his sword’s pommel. He stared out across the barren wastelands and the band of Hellfire beyond, the last, thinning barrier between two armies sworn to fight to the death. If Lucifer ever got around to taking the first swing.
    “I don’t suppose an apology will do any good, but in the interests of maintaining peace, I’m sorry I called you a bastard. As I remember, the circumstances were somewhat extenuating.”
    If that’s what one wanted to call being ripped out of the human realm by force and handed over to the Seraph responsible for engineering his downfall.
    Raphael shifted his stance, settling his feet more firmly into the sparse, arid soil. “I’ve been called worse, Power. That’s not why I’m here, either.”
    Aramael raised a brow at the other Archangel’s use of his former designation. So that’s what this was about. “Issues with my promotion?” he inquired.
    “Issues with your track record.”
    “You think Mika’el made a mistake.”
    “I think he has a lot on his mind and might not have thought this through as well as he should have. I think you’re more liability than asset.”
    A flare along the fiery border drew their attention. Aramael stared in its direction, waiting. Brilliant yellow turned red, and the ripple of tension across his shoulders faded. If the flare had turned blue, it would have meant an attempted breach. But red was good.
    He looked back at the other Archangel, who still stared across the wasteland. “Was there