Metatron speared upward, fury vibrating through him as he hurled his body into the darkness, every muscle rigid. How dare she? She was a woman, worthless, just one of the temptresses who had brought the Fallen to their miserable existence, and yet she’d managed to trick him. He’d been convinced she was dead, and if Cain hadn’t shown up at the beach and refused to leave, he would have made sure of it, finished the job if necessary. Instead Cain had stood there questioning him, and in the end he’d had no choice but to retreat, angry and frustrated but reasonably certain she was dead. She wasn’t. At least he could take cold comfort in the reasonable assurance that Cain didn’t suspect him. Cain would trust his word. He already knew that Cain was irrational when it came to the seer, and he wouldn’t agree that she needed to be silenced before she interfered with their plans. Cain thought he could control her. Cain was a fool. Women were irrational, weak, ruled by their emotions.
