Archangel's Consort

10

Evening shadows lay heavy on the horizon when Elena walked out across the lawn behind Raphael’s—their—home, heading for the edge of the cliff beyond the trees. After leaving the Tower earlier that afternoon, the intimacy of those moments on the balcony a tight warmth in her chest, she’d called a delighted Sam using the Web link in the library.

“Ellie!” His grin had stretched from ear to ear. “You didn’t forget me!”

“Of course not.” Laughing as he bounced in his seat, those wings that looked too big for his body rising and falling in excitement as loose black curls tumbled over his forehead, she’d asked him how his day had gone.

“Father took me flying again!”

Since Sam had been forbidden from using his wings for another month, his father had begun to carry him up into the sky in his arms, his love for Sam a fierce thing no one could miss, in spite of the fact that he was a man of few words. “Was it fun?”

An enthusiastic nod. “He can go so fast.”

Their conversation had lasted half an hour, with Elena exchanging a few words with Sam’s mother as well. The tiny angel with hair of the same lustrous blue black and wings of dusty brown streaked with white, still touched her baby with protective care, but she smiled just as often—and for the first time, Elena truly believed that the small family would be okay.

She’d spent the remaining time doing flying drills, all of them geared to build up her muscles, with an oddly subdued Illium. Having discussed it with Keir, Raphael had told her that she wouldn’t be able to achieve a true vertical takeoff without wing strength of a kind she simply did not have. It was a physical impossibility.

“Your immortality,” he’d murmured as they stood on the balcony, “has not yet grown deep enough into your cells. But,” he’d added, “given your hunter strength, you may well be able to learn to do a bastardized version that relies not on the power of your wings, but on sheer muscle.”

It’d be a much harder road and each takeoff would hurt like a bitch even after she mastered it, but Elena wasn’t about to be a sitting duck, not if she could do something about it. Maybe she was an immortal new-Made, she thought now, trying to see through the straggling clouds, but she would not be easy prey.

There.

The magnificent breadth of Raphael’s wings came into view as he descended to join her on the clifftop, the tips flaming as they caught the last vestiges of a sun that had finally made an appearance late that afternoon. “You go to visit the Guild Director and her family?”

Pushing off strands of hair that had escaped her braid, she said, “Come with me.”

A slow blink. “They are your closest friends, Elena. They wish to have you to themselves for this night.”

“I’m becoming part of your world—come become part of mine.” She saw the surprise on his face, saw, too, that he’d very much not expected the invitation.

His body was a hard wall of muscle against her as he pulled her close, until her breasts pressed against his chest. “What will Sara and Deacon say to that?”

She ran her hands down the wings he spread for her, indulging in the ability to touch him as she pleased. “Not scared of a couple of hunters are you, Archangel?”

A flare of absolute blue as his lashes lifted. They may choose to sever their friendship with you rather than welcome me into their home. You cannot forget the actions I took in the Quiet.

“No.” But she also knew something else beyond any shadow of a doubt. “You have your Seven. I have my friends—they’d cut off their right arms before they’d shove me out into the cold.”

Such loyalty, Raphael thought. He wouldn’t have believed mortals capable of it except that he had known Dmitri when he was human ... and he had known Elena. “The invitation is very welcome,” he said. “I will accept it another day. Tonight, I must remain here.”

Pale gray eyes sparked with intelligence. “What’s happening?”

“I have a meeting with Aodhan.”

“Here? In New York?”

“I, too, am surprised.” Aodhan preferred the seclusion of the Refuge. “We meet at the Tower.”

Tucking back another flyaway strand of hair, his consort looked him full in the face. “I want to talk to you about something else, too.”

“What would you have of me, Guild Hunter?”

“I don’t need a bodyguard anymore—Illium’s trick today with the helicopter seems to have gotten the message across to the media hounds.”

You are my heart, Elena. He would not allow anything to happen to her.

She took a step back. “No chains, Raphael.”

He closed his hand around her nape, refusing to permit her to distance herself. “I have allowed you much freedom, but on this I will not budge.”

Temper sparked off her. “It’s not up to you to allow me anything. I’m your consort. Treat me as one!”

Yet she was so very mortal still—even the Angel-born remained vulnerable for over a hundred years, and Elena had started out mortal. Immortality had barely kissed her blood, had had no real chance to intertwine with her cells. You will not win this argument, Hunter.

“Fine, but it’s one we’ll continue to have every single day till you start acting reasonable.”

Until her, no one had challenged him on this level. Until her, no one had loved him with all the strength in this hunter’s soul. “According to Dmitri, the most sensible act would have been to kill you the instant we met.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Stop trying to distract me.” Breaking his hold with a move he hadn’t expected, she picked up the small bag he’d noticed at her feet. “Raphael?”

Catching the suddenly somber note in her voice, he lifted his eyes to the changeable mists of her eyes. “Hunter.”

“Don’t clip my wings. It’ll destroy both of us.”

With those disturbing words, she dove down across the Hudson. As he watched her disappear toward Manhattan, aware that Illium would trail her to the Guild Director’s home—where another of his Seven had stood watch for hours to ensure no unwelcome surprises—he knew she was right. She would never be happy in a cage. But after the events that had almost stolen her from him not once, but twice, he wasn’t sure he had the ability to set her free.

Elena shoved the argument—and the reason behind it—to the back of her mind as she came to a smooth landing in front of the brownstone that was Sara and Deacon’s. Her best friend dragged her inside an instant later ... where Elena got a welcome surprise. “You bought the neighboring town house!” They’d taken out the facing walls of both homes, then closed the small gap between the two buildings by extending one of the houses.

Since Elena hadn’t noticed anything from the outside, they had to have recycled the materials removed during the demolition of the walls to build a seamless exterior over the extension. Fantastic as that was, it didn’t compare to the inside—the entire first floor was a massive open-plan space that flowed into the kitchen.

“Yep.” Sara beamed, her rich coffee-colored skin all but glowing. “With the way Deacon’s business is going, we could afford it so we decided why not.” A pause. “More important, I wanted my best friend to feel welcome in my home.”

Swallowing the knot of emotion in her throat, Elena put down her bag to wander over the gleaming wooden floors covered with Navajo rugs that matched the warm, earth-toned color scheme of the house. “It’s gorgeous, Sara.”

“Deacon did most of the renovation himself—Zoe and I just held boards, took him the occasional nail, and generally supervised.” A big grin.

“I know you chose the colors.” Feeling totally at ease, she spread her wings. “It’s—”

“Oh, God, Ellie,” Sara said on a gasp, clutching the back of the sofa. “Each time you do that, I start to feel faint.”

Elena was laughing at the look on her friend’s face when a big, bad-ass man with deep green eyes, golden skin, and dark hair walked into the room, a little girl cradled in the crook of his arm. “Deacon.” Smiling, Elena moved close enough that he could tug her into a one-armed embrace.

He held her for several long seconds. “It’s good to see you, Ellie.” Quiet, powerful words.

Looking up, she met the eyes of the child who’d tucked her head shyly against her father’s neck. “Hello, Zoe,” she whispered, amazed at how big Sara’s baby had become in the year and a half since Elena had last seen her.

Sara came over then, picking up one tiny hand and pressing a kiss on Zoe’s palm. “This is Auntie Ellie, Zoe.”

That was when a massive hellhound of a dog came around the corner, heading straight for Elena. “Slayer!” Laughing as he jumped on her, intent on loving her to death, she looked up to see Zoe giggling.

It made her want to tug the girl into her arms and pepper that precious face with kisses, but she was a stranger to Zoe right now. A stranger with bribes. “I have presents for you,” she said after Deacon pulled Slayer off with one hand.

Eyes the same dark color as Sara’s went wide with interest.

Giving Slayer a final scratch that had his tail wagging triple-time, Elena went to her bag and took out the handcrafted doll she’d bought from one of the artisans at the Refuge. Zoe took it with careful hands, rising away from her father’s shoulder to pat at the doll’s thick curls.

“What do you say, baby girl?” Deacon prompted.

Zoe’s “Thank you” was shy.

Elena said, “You’re welcome,” and retrieved the collection of angel feathers she’d been saving since she woke from the coma. Startling gold and white, blue edged with silver, midnight and dawn, shimmering gray, a sweet, beautiful brown, and an incredible crystalline white, they made Zoe hold her breath. When Elena lifted her hand, her goddaughter stared in wonder ... then closed one fist gently around the feathers. “Papa. Down.”

Obeying the order, Deacon bent to put her on the floor. Feathers in hand, Zoe toddled over to the coffee table and put her treasures on the glass so she could admire them one by one, the doll held close to her side. Slayer, having been banished to sit by the mantel, sidled around to stand next to his favorite human being.

Sara touched her hand to Deacon’s heart when he wrapped a heavily muscled arm around her shoulders. “Didn’t you have something for Ellie?”

“Let me go grab it.” Kissing his wife on the nose, the former bogeyman of the Guild prowled out of the room after ruffling Zoe’s tiny curls.

“I got you and Deacon gifts as well,” Elena said. “From the Refuge. Found a gorgeous collar for your monster dog, too.”

Sara took her hands, squeezed. “The best gift is you, here. I missed you so much.”

Elena had to look down for a second to blink away the surge of emotion. Sara wasn’t her blood, but she was her sister in every other way that mattered. “I had a run-in with Jeffrey.” It spilled out, the one subject she hadn’t been able to talk about when they’d met earlier, the wound too raw. “He’s furious that the girls have been targeted because of me, and I can’t blame him.”

Sara’s jaw tensed. “That’s—”

“He’s right this time, Sara.” Guilt twisted through her, a hard, abrasive rope. “But at least that’s something I understand. What I don’t know is why he wants to meet me tomorrow.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“No, I—” That was when she felt a small, baby-soft hand patting at her feathers with unhidden wonder. “Hey, sweetheart.” Looking down into that adorable face, she decided to push Jeffrey, the murders, her frustration with Raphael’s protectiveness, out of her mind and just enjoy spending time with the family of a friend who’d opened her heart to Elena when she’d been nothing but a scared girl without home or hope.

I’ll watch over you, she promised Zoe silently, though the thought of surviving her best friend was an aching sorrow in her heart. Over you and all who come after you. Sara’s blood.

Having received the message of Aodhan’s arrival, Raphael swept down across the sparkling nightscape of Manhattan to land on the wide Tower balcony outside his office—where the angel stood waiting. Unlike Illium, who even with his remarkable wings and eyes of gold, managed to walk among mortals, Aodhan would never fit easily into this world. He was cut in sparkling ice, his wings so bright as to almost hurt human eyes, his face and his skin seeming to be created from marble overlaid with white-gold.

Michaela, that devourer of men, had once said of Aodhan, “Beautiful—but so very cold, that one. Still, I would like to keep him as I would a precious gem. There is no other like Aodhan in the world.”

But Michaela saw only the surface.

Raphael walked to the edge of the space that had no railing, running his eyes over his city. “What did you discover?”

Aodhan tightened his wings to avoid any contact as he came to stand on Raphael’s left. “I cannot understand,” he said instead of answering, “how you can live surrounded by so many lives.” A stark curiosity underlay his every word.

“Many cannot understand your preference for solitude.” He watched as a number of angels came in for landings on lower balconies, their wings silhouetted against the night sky. “You surprise me with this visit, Aodhan.” The angel was one of Raphael’s Seven for a reason, but he was also damaged.

“It is . . . difficult.” Aodhan’s expression was haunted in a way that not many would’ve understood. “But your hunter ... She is so weak, and yet she fought the reborn with unflinching courage.”

“Elena will find it amusing that she is an inspiration.” Yet she would also understand what it meant for Aodhan to take this step, his hunter with her mortal heart.

Aodhan was silent for another long moment. “East,” he said at last. “Naasir and I both believe the Ancient Sleeps in the Far East.”

With Galen in charge at the Refuge, Raphael had set Aodhan and Naasir the task of searching for clues as to the location of the Sleeper who might well be his mother. However, he hadn’t expected any kind of an answer so soon. “Why?”

“Jessamy tells me that when an Ancient awakens, it is not a process of a few days or even weeks. It can take up to a year.” His crystalline eyes, fractured outward from the pupil, reflected a thousand shards of light as he spoke. “Yet not one of the Cadre sensed this.”

Raphael understood at once. “Because the region falls in Lijuan’s shadow.” Any fluctuations in power in that area had been attributed to Lijuan’s evolution. “Keep searching.” The temptation to join the hunt was strong, but after having been absent from his Tower for so long, he couldn’t leave it for what might turn out to be weeks—too many covetous eyes were trained on his domain.

Aodhan bent his head. “Sire.”

As the angel began to expand his wings in preparation for flight, Raphael stopped him with a single touch on the shoulder. Aodhan froze.

“Talk to Sam.” Knowing the demons that tormented the angel, Raphael broke the contact. “Elena gave him a dagger. Legend says the ruby in the dagger was a gift from a sleeping dragon. It may be nothing—”

“But it may denote knowledge of an Ancient.” Aodhan’s wings glittered in a stray shaft of moonlight as he hesitated. “Sire, I would come to this city again.”

“Are you certain?”

“I have acted the coward for centuries. No more.”

Raphael had been there when Aodhan was found, had carried the other angel in his arms the hours it took to reach the Medica and Keir. “You are no coward, Aodhan. You are one of my Seven.”

Aodhan glanced back toward the office, in the direction of the wide shelves of deep ebony that lined one wall. “Why do you not display one of my feathers? My wings are as unusual as Bluebell’s.”

Raphael raised an eyebrow. “Illium is a performer.” While Aodhan, like Jason, preferred the shadows.

As he watched, Aodhan pulled out a perfect, glittering feather and walked inside to place it beside the heavenly blue that was Illium’s. Raphael inclined his head when the angel returned. “After this task is done, you will move here.” Manhattan was still reeling from Elena’s return—Aodhan’s presence might just bring the city to a standstill. But that was a problem for another day. “If you and Naasir are able to narrow the search area to a specific locality, call and wait for me. Do not approach.”

“If it is her . . . you believe she will kill.”

“My mother is the specter in the dark, Aodhan, the nightmare that whispers in the hindbrain.” And he was her son ... the son of two archangels gone insane.