As much as Shade’s smugness annoyed her, Sophia had to acknowledge he had just cause. Archangels had spent millennia lording their moral superiority over hell princes.
The archangel’s recent response to Wrath siring Eddie had been exactly the reaction she’d expected from the heaven contingent. She wasn’t surprised Michael had been tight lipped about his latest discovery.
Sophia heaved a sigh. Secrets and evasions were only aggravating the situation. She was well aware that if there were angelic Nephilim, they didn’t belong to her, and that’s about all she could say for sure.
“That’s a big sigh,” Chris said.
Not wanting to get into the political maneuvering between archangels and hell princes, she shifted the conversation to a personal concern. “I think I should withdraw from acting.”
“Why?” Chris looked genuinely confused as he spread his arm over the back of the sofa.
It didn’t need a genius to put this together. “Because there is a creation ending crisis happening. My energy and efforts are required elsewhere.”
Cocking his head, Chris studied her. “Where?”
“The horsemen.” She didn’t think it necessary to spell this out for him.
“Both your people and my people are monitoring them closely,” Chris said. “And the last time an angel got near them…” He raised an eyebrow.
Sophia didn’t need him to finish that sentence. The archangel Ramiel had sent Haziel, a seraph and his second, to check on the horsemen. They’d locked on her power and used it to speed up their rising.
“As I see it,” Chris said. “Until we know how to get near them without feeding them, the best thing we can do is monitor them from a distance.”
He had a point. “Someone should track Pestilence’s movements.”
“Agreed.” Chris nodded. “I’ve got my people on it.”
“That’s dangerous.” Wherever Pestilence went, they would spread disease. All humans were susceptible.
Chris smirked. “We have a few tricks up our sleeves to keep our people safe.” He shrugged. “If any of you or the hell princes get near them, they’re only going to use you as a massive turbo boost.”
“It seems wrong to be doing nothing.” And even worse to be indulging her whim and newest passion.
“You are doing something,” Chris said. “You’re here to protect those baby witches.” His face darkened. “If the rebels get their hands on them, they’re only going to kill them making more amulets.”
Raphael had brought them the news of all those dead witches.
“And giving the rebels access to power is as much an option as feeding the horsemen.” Chris stood and straightened his slacks.
Fear fastened tight claws around Sophia’s throat. Not only for herself but for the billions of humans who would die if the horsemen all rose. “We have to stop this.”
“Yes, we do.” Chris put a hand on her shoulder. “And your part in doing that is minding this hell gate and protecting those children.” He looked intently at her. “It makes no difference whether you act while you’re doing that or not.” Removing his hand, he shrugged. “And take it from someone who does the same thing. No one of us can fix this on their own. We’re going to have to rely on each other, or we’ll never make it.”
Chapter Nineteen
Haziel lay like a contented, satisfied feline in Wrath’s arms as sunlight painted pink and peach smears across the horizon. Wrath’s warm breath huffed across her nape. The dead weight of his arm flung over her made her feel cocooned in his love. The world outside their bedchamber wouldn’t wait much longer to intrude, and then they’d have to get up and deal with an ever-growing list of problems.
Stirring, Wrath grew tense. Voice was raspy with sleep, he asked, “Did you feel that?”
Haziel sent her senses questing. Wrath’s power was greater than hers, and he was more sensitive to power shifts. Then she felt what had woken him. Ancient power rattled the power balance, and a power she recognized only too well. “The horsemen.”
Ancient and grating against her senses, the power swelled.
“Pestilence is awake.” Wrath growled. “Fuck!”
Fuck, indeed. The last time she’d tangled with Pestilence, it had almost cost her life.
Wrath’s seal pulsed with unadulterated fury.
A demon yelled from the courtyard below. Another yelled back, followed by a war cry and the clash of steel.
“We need to go.” Wrath unwound from her and stood. “Pestilence is affecting the seal.” He shoved his legs into discarded fighting leathers. “And my seal is the most stable. Hell knows what Pestilence is doing to the other seals.”
Haziel couldn’t look at him, not prepared to have her suspicions confirmed. “They wake because of me.”
One arm through his shirt, Wrath stopped and stared at her. “Eh?”
“Pestilence used my power to rise.” Haziel had been helpless to fight the horseman, and now they’d all pay the price.
“Angel.” Wrath perched on the bed beside her and tipped her chin up. “This is all on Ramiel.”
“But—”
“He sent you there knowing what the risk was. Pestilence has woken because your fucking archangel couldn’t control his jealous fit. Also this demon rebellion is turning shit inside out.” Wrath kissed her gently. “If I hear you blaming yourself for this, I’m going to turn you over my knee.”
He always had a way of making her feel better. “Is that supposed to be a deterrent?”
