faced Raguel. “This is too serious for just one team to handle.”
“I am inclined to believe it is their synergy that is causing the problem, not a mask.” Raguel adjusted his tie. “I have a meeting with Steve Wynn in a half hour. I wish I looked as good in my suit as you do in yours.”
“Are you kidding me? You’re going to completely disregard what Cain and Eve told you?”
Raguel relaxed into his chair with a sigh. “You heard his story. He was as focused on Ms. Hollis as he was on the hunt.”
“So? He was doing his job.”
“Was he? Or is his heart ruling his head? There is a tremendous difference between happenstance and calculation. Cain hasn’t been trained.”
Reed felt a chill move through him. He knew deliberate obtuseness when he saw it. “You’re gambling with something so potentially damaging that I’m at a loss for words. I don’t understand why you’re not erring on the side of caution.”
“You want my job?” Raguel’s voice was dangerously soft. “Be my guest. Manage the situation as you see fit.”
“With what resources?”
Pristine white teeth flashed within the frame of coffee-dark skin. “With the ones you have at your disposal. I must function within my station. So, too, must you.”
“Your station is greater than mine.”
“Exactly,” the archangel hissed. “Do not forget that.”
The screen went black, leaving Reed in turmoil. He had twenty-one charges in total, including Eve. At any given moment, at least one of them was locked in combat that would lead to death—either the Mark’s or his or her prey. From the heavens, orders streamed down into Reed’s consciousness like water, forcing him to shift through the various threads. He assigned Marks to various hunts based on their experience, location, and a multitude of other factors, not the least of which was the needs of the firm to which he was assigned.
To his knowledge, no handler had ever thinned his charges by setting them on a task of his own design while relying on the others to pick up the slack. Doing so would weaken all of them. Some Marks were better able to handle specific Infernals than others. Assigning a less-talented Mark to the hunt because his more experienced team member was occupied by an unsanctioned task was so dangerous Reed couldn’t believe he was even thinking of it.
But what options did he have?
He could use an Infernal, either one presently working within the firm or one scheduled for vanquishing. He could offer a bargain—cooperation or death. Infernals were survivors; they would do whatever was necessary to keep their lives. But it was not his place to decide which Infernals were worthy of saving and which were destined to burn in Hell. As with his previous option—using Marks—Reed had no idea what the ramifications would be for reaching so far beyond his assigned duties, but he knew they would be dire. He needed someone farther up the food chain than he was. Someone to take the heat, if necessary.
He needed an archangel to assist him.
It wasn’t completely improbable. As long as he offered a perceived benefit, he could solicit help. Cain made devil’s bargains all the time.
Reed avoided the elevator and moved to the reception area instead. He paused before the desk of the elderly Mark who answered Raguel’s phones. “Do we have any visiting firms in the area or one scheduled to arrive shortly?”
The firms always kept each other appraised of visits. Putting two archangels into close proximity required greater security, plus they felt it was their due to be shown deference by whoever was visiting.
“The European firm sent seven Marks yesterday,” the secretary replied. “Sarakiel is scheduled to visit next week.”
Reed nodded grimly. “Thank you.”
Of course it would have to be Sara. God forbid his task should be easy for him.
As he prepared to shift from his present location to her office, Reed steeled himself for the task ahead. She’d want his blood.
It was true. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.
It was a thirty-minute drive to Upland from Anaheim on a good day. To say the freeway traffic in Southern California was horrendous would be an understatement. Stop-and-go speeds added hours to most trips, and accidents often turned highways into parking lots.
Today wasn’t too bad because it was still early afternoon, not yet the time when most residents began their commutes home. Alec stared out the passenger window, the fingers of his left hand brushing back and forth over the denim that covered his knee.