“I changed my mind.” His tone made it clear that he wasn’t going to discuss it further, and she shrugged.

“You’ll need to give her a better reason than that. When she’s ready to talk to you, that is. Shall I tell her you saved her?”

“Given our recent history, I doubt she’ll be impressed. I’ll tell her myself if I decide she needs to know.”

Allie nodded, then lapsed into a meditative silence. Strangely enough, he felt comfortable, sitting in the darkness with Raziel’s wife, watching the tide roll in. He could feel the last of his resentment slipping away. Sarah was gone, and the best way he could honor her and what they’d had together was to let go, move on.

He closed his eyes, and for a moment he could almost feel her hands on his shoulders, her lips brushing a kiss on the top of his head, her heavy silver braid brushing against him. He kept his eyes closed, soaking in the benediction, and then she was gone.

He opened his eyes, to discover they were wet and stinging. He blessed the darkness, but he knew Allie could see anyway. He cleared his throat. “Shouldn’t someone be checking on her?”

“Gretchen is there. I wouldn’t have left her if she hadn’t stabilized. You know that, Azazel.” Her voice was only faintly accusing.

He deserved it. “Yes,” he said. He had to say it, and for some reason it didn’t gall him. Perhaps it was Sarah’s blessing. “Thank you, Allie. Thank you for saving her.”

He half expected her to make light of it, but she simply said, “You’re welcome.”

“Raziel wonders what will happen to her.”

“She belongs here. She’s like a newborn—this is her new life, her memories, old and new. We’ll find a way to work her into the community.”

She didn’t ask him if he minded. It was no longer his decision. He’d ceded leadership to Raziel and gone on his quest, his quest to destroy the Lilith. Now he was simply one of the Fallen. And she would be here. Hating him.

“As it shall be,” he said, using the old words.

“As it shall be,” Allie murmured formally. She glanced over her shoulder. Raziel had come to join them, standing behind them, and the two of them shared a smile, the sort of secret communication he’d once had with Sarah, and he waited for that flash of anger, of jealousy and rage for all that he had lost.

It was gone. Washed clean. Astonishing, when it had ruled his life for so long.

Allie glanced up at Raziel, and he nodded, putting his hands on her shoulders as Sarah had once touched him, leaning down and placing a kiss on her head. The parallel should have disturbed him. Instead, it began to warm a very cold place inside him.

“You’re weak, Azazel,” Allie said after a moment. “I can feel it. You’ve been running on sheer nerves. It’s been much too long for you, and you know it.”

He shook his head. “I’m not ready to go up to the house or go through the ritual.”

“No need,” she said. And held out her slender wrist.

He glanced up at Raziel in surprise, but Raziel simply nodded. “You need it,” he said.

It was against the laws of Sheol to partake of the Source without the full ritual, but now Raziel made the laws. And things were already changing, with Rachel, with him. He wanted to fight the clawing need, to reject this woman, but he couldn’t. His need was too strong. He took her wrist in both hands, hesitating a moment. And then bit, delicately, as his fangs extended, and the blood was thick and sweet and healing.

He stopped before he was sated, careful not to push things, and released her arm with the traditional words of thanks.

“Are you certain you’ve had enough?” she asked, as both healer and Source. He nodded, feeling the strength course through him, filling him with steely power. “Then I’ll go check on my patient.”

As she moved back to the house, he realized that at some point she’d attained the perfect grace that went with being the Source. He could see it and admire it now.

Raziel took her abandoned seat. “I take it you don’t hate her anymore. That’s a good thing, brother.” He followed Azazel’s gaze out to the sea. “And you’re at full strength now, I presume. I have a question for you. Allie has decreed that Rachel will stay here. Does that mean you will leave?”

He thought about it. She would hate him, and the sight of her would bring a deep, inexplicable pain. A pain he wasn’t going to run from. He’d run from pain for long enough. “No. I will stay.”

Raziel nodded. “Good. I suspect we’re going to need you. I take it the Truth Breakers were unable to unearth her memories of Lucifer?”

“According to Uriel, they succeeded, for all the good it does us. We were fools to think he would actually pass the information along. And that would have been the first part of her brain they scrubbed clean.”

“Naturally. It doesn’t matter. She stays.”

Azazel nodded, rising. “I’ll be in soon.”

The sky was inky dark, the moon barely a sliver. He soared upward, past the clouds and mist that always enshrouded Sheol, into the clear, cool night. The stars were pinpricks of light, and he banked and turned, feeling the wind rush past him like fingers through his hair, kissing his face, and he thought of Rachel far below. He had to let go of her, release her as he had released Sarah.

He pushed upward, higher and higher, and the air grew colder. He could see his favorite perch down below, on the edge of the cliff, but he’d sat and brooded long enough. He was pulsing with the energy Allie’s blood had given him, and he wanted to glide and soar through the sweet-smelling night air, dancing on the wind.

He moved farther out over the ocean, where the waves rolled on top of the water in little ruffles of foam, and he turned, spun, and plunged downward, hitting the icy water in a smooth, clean dive that barely disturbed the surface.

He went deep into the bracing salt sea, and he felt its healing power rush through him, making him whole once more. He breathed in the water, letting it fill his body, his lungs, then moved upward to breathe in air again. He dove once more, and the dolphins were there, the ones he knew. They welcomed him as one of their own as they swam through the currents, turning over in the pleasure of the water, swimming with their friend with the odd fins.

He lost track of the time he spent in the water. The sun was coming up by the time he tired of it, and he pushed upward again, high enough into the air that the heat dried his clothes so that they were stiff and salt-encrusted, and when he landed lightly on the beach, Michael was waiting for him. Michael, the fighter, who never would have let the Truth Breakers take Rachel.

“Welcome back,” he said. “Raziel says you’re here to stay this time.”

“I am.”

Michael nodded. “We’ll need you. The few Nephilim that are left are gathering. Turns out the dumb bastards finally realized they could fly.”

“Wonderful,” Azazel said grimly. For a moment he remembered chaining Rachel in that deserted house in the Australian bush, and he felt sick. In the end, he’d saved her, he reminded himself. He’d saved her twice.

Because he’d tried to kill her twice. He’d been so terrified of a prophecy that he’d been ready to sacrifice her without finding out who and what she really was.

“You’ll be ready to fight?” Michael asked.

He thought of Rachel, lying in the hospital bed, so close to death. He thought of the guilt that smothered him. Exactly what Uriel would want. He needed a distraction, and he needed it now. “I am ready to fight,” he said.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

THE DAYS PASSED. EACH DAY HE asked Allie if Rachel was ready to see him, and each day she said wait, until he thought he’d go mad with it. Once he faced Rachel, he could let go. The prophecy was clearly false, broken. He had been able to turn her over to the Truth Breakers with no hesitation, even if he hadn’t been able to keep from coming back for her. He hadn’t meant to do that. He’d had the vain hope that they would be merciful, but one look and something had cracked.