THIRTY-SEVEN

An Impossible Choice

It was a difficult thing to lie to your beloved, Jack thought.

He did not want her to see how deeply he had been affected by the events that had transpired that evening. It was only through luck that Schuyler had emerged from the underworld unharmed. There was no way he was going to let her out of his sight again, as much as he could help it.

“I’m okay, don’t worry about me,” Schuyler told him, walking out of the bathroom dressed in a baggy T-shirt and jeans. Catherine had offered to lend her some clothes, and Schuyler had taken the opportunity to wash up as well, scrub-bing her face free of makeup so that her face shone. “I would never let anything happen,” she said, and with a small, shy smile, she patted her belly. She had yet to tell him, but she’d told him everything in that smile.

It was as Jack had feared. Dear god, she thinks she carries my child. His heart broke a little at this, and as they walked to the table together he wanted to tell her right then that this was not a possibility—not for him, not for the two of them. It was never in their future. It could not be. It would never be. The angels were not given the gift of creating new life. Schuyler was not pregnant. She was sick. The bond was destroying her, eating her inside and out. The vomiting, the bile, and the blood: it was the sign of the Wasting Disease.

Allegra had fallen into a coma a few years after she’d broken her bond, and before she’d lost consciousness she’d displayed the signs of this same disease. Jack had seen her files, had read the symptoms—they were the same as the ones Schuyler displayed: nausea, vomiting, blood. He’d believed the bond would destroy him, would weaken him, but this was so much worse. The bond was destroying his beloved, just as it had claimed Allegra. The Bond Would Claim Its Own.

But Jack kept his feelings to himself. This was his problem, his darkness that he had brought to her life, and he would take care of it. He had already asked for so much in asking her to love him.

“Does anyone want more tea?” Catherine asked. After dis-closing the truth about the Petruvians, conversation had dropped, although the gatekeeper did not seem perturbed by their reactions. In her mind, she was carrying out the work of her Regis, orders of the Archangel, and was far from at fault.

But Jack had other things on his mind than the Nephilim.

“Tea?” Catherine asked again.

“Yes,” he said quickly.

“I’ll get it,” Schuyler offered, standing up and walking to the kitchen.

Jack was glad for the opportunity to have a word alone with Catherine. But the gatekeeper spoke first.

“You know, your sister was here. I saw her descend into Helda’s kingdom,” Catherine said with a conspiratorial smile.

“When?”

Catherine named a date, and it was roughly the same time they had arrived in Cairo, Jack thought. “I want to speak to you about Azrael,” he said.

Catherine nodded. She looked pointedly at the bonding ring he wore on his finger. It was not one worn by the Fallen.

It was man-made, a human ring, ordinary. “Of course. You seek to break your bond. To free your love from Gabrielle’s fate, I imagine?”

“Yes.” He looked tired and sad, but there was a flash of hope in his eyes. “You were there when the bond was made.

You know what I am up against. Can you help me? Tell me, is there any other way?”

Catherine wiped her mouth with a napkin and did not answer.

Jack continued to press his case. “Because I do not want to kill my sister. It is the only way to stop her. The blood trial will mean only one of us is left standing. But I cannot bring her harm. I will not have her death on my hands. But I don’t want her to kill me or my… my wife.” At the mention of his mate, his face softened with love.

Catherine sighed. “The only way to end a bond is to serve a task of allegiance to the one who consecrated it. He alone can unmake what was made. Who sealed your fate?” From Jack’s troubled face, Catherine knew the answer. “Your former master. Well then, you know what you have to do. Find Lucifer and offer him your services in return for an Unmaking.”

“Is that my only choice? Serve Lucifer or kill Azrael?”

She nodded. “I’m afraid so.”

“Then it must be,” he said, and his face was full of sorrow; for even though he did not love her anymore, Azrael was part of him. But if he had to destroy her to keep Schuyler alive, he would do what he had to do.