Alec hadn’t come to her for help and clearly didn’t want it, but she wouldn’t let that hold her back. If he came apart at the seams, it would be bad for everyone. Especially for him. She had no doubt the other archangels would kill him.
“Hey.” She perked up. “You said he doesn’t understand what’s happening to him. He came to see you, didn’t he? He wanted your help.”
“Everyone comes to me for help.” He shrugged. “I don’t always have the answers, but I appreciate being kept in the loop.”
“What answers was he looking for today?”
“Actually, I called him down here to talk about your tengu friend. But we also talked about his unsuitability for the position of archangel.”
Eve frowned. “Unsuitability? I think he’s perfect for the job. He always takes command of the situations he walks into and he knows this job better than anyone.”
His mouth curved. “Cain is a hands-on sort of Mark. He’s best in the trenches. There are others who would have been better suited to give interviews to the press and sit in an office.”
“Maybe that’s his problem.”, she suggested. “Maybe he just can’t handle all the periphery stuff. Just listening to the amount of information flowing through Abel’s brain makes my head hurt. It’s like standing at the base of Niagara Falls. I can’t bear more than a few seconds of it. And Cain skipped right over that section of the information superhighway and jumped headfirst into the part where he’s getting a gazillion times more info than that. That could drive a person crazy.”
“I suppose. Although I’ve met other archangels who’ve disliked it and they didn’t fall off the deep end.”
Eve thought of the archangels—Sarakiel, Raguel, Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, Uriel, and Remiel. They’d all seemed very comfortable with their jobs. “Which ones? How did they get over it?”
“Chamuel had a hell of a time. I don’t think he ever got over it. There were others, but their names escape me now.”
Leaning over the table, she asked urgently, “There were more than the seven I’ve met? Abel has a theory about a possible cap on their number. If he’s right, we need to know what happened to the others.”
“Your guess is as good as mine.” Hank’s voice remained raspy and steady. “All I know is that shortly after the firms were created the number of archangels rapidly diminished until only seven remained.”
“Why? We need to— Ow!” Eve caught her head in hands. “Shit. . . migraine.”
But she didn’t get migraines. Hank stood and came up behind her, touching her shoulders. As the pain bore deep, she curled over the table. Then, as suddenly as it had struck, it disappeared. Leaving behind Alec, who was searching through her brain like a spreading flame, licking along the surfaces of her memories.
Alec.
Where have you been?
He sounded just as angry as he’d been before. It had to be exhausting, carrying around all that fury.
Searching for you, she gasped, still reeling from the force of his entry.
Don’t. Not safe.
Let me help you!
He began to withdraw in a rush. Eve caught him with both hands, but it was hopeless. He moved too quickly, like smoke sucked out by a vacuum. In an instant, he was gone.
Eve bolted upright. The back of her head cracked into Hank’s chin. He cursed and stumbled back.
“Sorry’ she cried, jumping to her feet so quickly the chair fell back and hit the floor. “Jeez, Hank. I’m sorry!”
“Bloody H. Christ!” he snapped, holding his chin. “Don’t apologize to me. Are you all right?”
She almost ran a hand over her face, then remembered that she was wearing makeup. “It was Alec— Cain—digging around in my brain.”
“He hurt you?”
Hank’s tone alarmed her, so she quickly explained. “He was trying to share information. The other archangels believe that Raguel is dead, but Cain doesn’t. He thinks Raguel is alive and that’s why he’s so messed up. He believes that the number seven is an absolute when it comes to archangels.”
“You were in great pain,” he insisted, releasing his chin to grip hers. He turned her head from side to side. He snapped his fingers and a handkerchief appeared. He pressed it to her right nostril. “Your nose is bleeding.”
“It was like he had to punch his way in,” she mumbled through the cloth.
“He’s your firm leader. He shouldn’t have to ‘punch his way in’ to you. . . Ah!” A look of discovery crossed over his face.
“What?”
“Try reaching him again.” Hank rushed into the darkness. He shouted over his