Grigori 1 - Sins of the Angels by Linda Poitevin

Author:Linda Poitevin
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Penguin Group USA, Inc.
Published: 2011-08-09T22:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-ONE

Verchiel paused outside the Highest Seraph’s door. She did not want to be here, did not want to speak to Mittron again—did not want to deal with any of this. She rested her forehead against the oak barrier between her and certain confrontation. How could she have allowed this? Could she not have foreseen what would happen? No matter that Mittron commanded the obedience of nearly every angel in Heaven, herself included, she should still have fought harder against what her every fiber had told her was wrong.

Should have, but once again hadn’t.

She sighed, raised her head, and knocked.

“In,” came Mittron’s disembodied voice.

She pushed open the door.

“You look unhappy,” Mittron greeted her from beside the window, his bearing aloof, his eyes cold.

“The mortal who attacked the woman—”

“Is dead. I know.”

Verchiel’s heart missed a beat. The event had only just occurred; did Mittron have another angel monitoring Aramael? Monitoring her? “You know?”

“I ordered it.”

She felt for the door frame behind her and leaned against it. “You! But that would be”—she caught back the word murder and finished instead—“interference of the most direct kind.”

“I didn’t order him killed, for goodness’ sake. Only that he be allowed to do as he wished, to take his own life.”

“But—”

“The man’s mind was destroyed by what happened, Verchiel. He would never have recovered. Allowing his death was a mercy rather than interference. It will have no effect on the pact. Besides, we couldn’t risk him telling the woman what he had seen. It would have raised too many questions.”

Verchiel’s lips tightened. The Highest Seraph’s shortsightedness astounded her sometimes. “Perhaps, but his death will raise other questions. Many others. The woman already suspects something about Aramael’s presence there, and this will only make matters worse.”

“Really, Verchiel, you worry too much. Our only concern with the Naphil is keeping her out of Caim’s hands. She is of no import beyond that.”

Verchiel glowered at him. “And Aramael? Is he of no import either? With all due respect, Mittron, your interference makes an already impossible hunt even more difficult for him.”

Mittron’s gaze sparked amber fire. He drew tall. Threatening. “You overstep, Dominion.”

Verchiel wrapped her hands into her robe and gritted her teeth against a retort. Former soulmate he might be, but he was also her superior, and continuing to question his judgment would only lead to a formal reprimand and certain suspicion regarding Seth’s imminent involvement in the whole mess. If she truly wanted answers to the increasing number of questions she had, or to assist Aramael, she would do well to back down while she still could.

Swallowing her indignation along with her pride, she inclined her head. “You’re right, Highest. Forgive me.”

“Are we going to have a problem with seeing this assignment through, Verchiel? If so, perhaps you should consider removing yourself and letting someone else take over.”

Verchiel raised an eyebrow. As if any other Dominion would agree to take on Aramael. She was the only one of her choir who wasn’t petrified beyond words by him. But when she opened her mouth to share the observation, she hesitated.

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