Archangel's Heart

29

Landing at Lumia approximately forty-five minutes after the others would’ve returned, he and Elena made to go to their suite, while Aodhan requested leave to seek out a healer and artist named Laric, whom the Luminata called Stillness because of his unwillingness to speak.

“According to our source, he isn’t usually out at this time of the afternoon,” Aodhan told him. “But I still wish to attempt to make contact.”

“Go. Talk to him,” Raphael said, holding the splintered blue-green of Aodhan’s eyes as the three of them stood alone in the courtyard. “But remember, you have found your voice. And that voice is beloved by more than one person.”

A slight nod. “I will not lose my way, sire.” Pausing for a heartbeat, he added, “I want to live in a way I did not live for two hundred years. I kept myself in a cage and that is a truth I must accept and get over.”

And Raphael realized Aodhan wanted to help Laric rather than become like him. “We will be in our quarters for an hour, then we’ll head back to the township. It’s apt to be dark by the time we return.”

“I’ll ensure I’m present to provide escort.”

Raphael made a snap decision. “There’s no need. Stay here,” he ordered this member of his Seven who was so very luminous that sometimes, he blinded people to his brutal intelligence. “Listen. Learn.”

“Sire.”

Wings brushing Elena’s as they split with Aodhan and began to head in the direction of their suite, Raphael was surprised to see a Luminata walking toward them who pushed back his hood and beamed at Elena in a most un-Luminata way, something in the openness of his face putting Raphael in mind of the pure innocence of a child.

“I have found it, Consort!” He lifted a rolled-up piece of paper before seeming to collect himself and incline his head respectfully toward Raphael, the pale hue of his eyes bright and the dark brown of his skin flushed. “Archangel.”

“Raphael,” Elena said with a smile, “this is Ibrahim. He promised he’d look for a historical map of Lumia for me.” She touched her hand to the slender male’s forearm in a silent thanks that made Ibrahim’s smile even more incandescent.

“Ibrahim,” Raphael said in greeting. Why a historical map?

Taking the map from Ibrahim, Elena replied to his mental comment the same way. If the Luminata are hiding things, I didn’t think we’d get access to a current map, but we can extrapolate from an older one.

Or, Raphael pointed out, depending on the age of the map, we may see what’s missing or what’s been added.

Elena’s eyes gleamed in appreciation of his point, before she returned her attention to the Luminata who continued to glow with that inner purity so rare among the sect. “Did you find this in the Gallery?”

Ibrahim shook his head. “There is a dusty old room where—” Glancing around, he ducked his head and lowered his voice. “It’s where the archivists in charge of the Gallery stack damaged items or things that are not seen as fit for display.” A wince. “They never tell the artists and I don’t know if that is a kindness, or if it’s because they don’t want to expend time and energy on restoring items they deem inferior.”

How did you win this Luminata’s trust so quickly? It was obvious Ibrahim was struggling with having shared what he had, his expression heavy with guilt, yet he had shared it nonetheless.

Ibrahim’s new, Elena responded, and I get the sense he’s questioning his vocation now that he’s been here a while—he’s sniffed out the corruption but he’s having trouble coming to terms with the fact his heroes have feet of clay. I just gave him an outlet.

“Thank you for searching,” she said to the Luminata, placing her hand on his forearm again for a second—her demeanor appeared almost protective to Raphael. “This map will make it much easier to explore the stronghold. Not that we’ll have long.”

“No?” Ibrahim’s face fell. “You are leaving?”

“Tomorrow, I’m afraid.” She held out her arm, offering it in the grip of warriors.

Ibrahim took her hand between the two of his instead, like a scholar or another of a gentler vocation. “It has been an honor, Consort. I hope you will return to Lumia one day.”

“I hope so, too.” Smile gentle, Elena held the rolled-up map to her side as they left the Luminata to continue the walk to their room.

Placing it on a small decorative table set with a mosaic of semiprecious stones once they were inside, she turned to slide her arms around his waist. He wrapped his wings around her in turn, cocooning them in privacy both because he didn’t trust these walls, and because he liked having his Elena so close.

Sliding his hands up from her waist to her wings, he said, Where does it hurt the worst?

Elena listed the areas with the pragmatic knowledge of a hunter who saw her body as a tool she had to keep in fighting condition. Absorbing the information, he spread his hands over two parts of her wings and reached for the energy inside him that was life. His hands glowed with a slight blue fire that was concealed by his wings.

Sighing as the energy sank into her, Elena rested her head against his chest, shifting until she was right over his heartbeat, as if listening to it. “Even though it frustrates me that we have to leave tomorrow, I’m glad, too. I really don’t like this place,” she murmured in a tone that was soft, private. “I can’t point to any one thing as the reason why, but—”

“I feel it, too.” While the warmth of her against him settled his protective urges, his skin continued to prickle with an awareness of subtle wrongness. “I spoke to my mother as we were flying back. She says in the past, the Luminata had vampiric border guards as well. The complement was never only angelic.”

“The change fits with what we were talking about earlier, doesn’t it.” Elena kept her head against his chest as he moved his hands to different parts of her wings, easing the strain and healing muscles that might’ve sustained microtears. “Only . . . vampires given that position would be pretty solid, not the type to go nuts even if they figured out the Luminata were ruling their own little mortal colony.”

It was an excellent point.

Then she made another one. “Maybe it’s because while angels seem to revere the Luminata enough that even the Cadre’s left them alone for a long time, vampires would be more clear-eyed.”

“Especially,” Raphael murmured, “vampires of the age to be stationed here. It’s far too sleepy a region to send experienced warriors—they’d consider it a punishment. I know Galen tended to send no one over two hundred and fifty.”

“It’s a place to get a little seasoning, then move on.” Elena nodded. “Vamps like that probably wouldn’t see the Luminata as anything but a bunch of angelic monks. No reverence, no looking the other way.” She began to play her fingers up the inner surfaces of his wings, the caress an intimate one between consorts. “I feel back to normal wing-wise.”

“Good.” Giving her one last pulse of healing energy, he bent his head.

She lifted hers as if he’d spoken, the kiss they shared a soft brush that was about connection, about being one in this place filled with outsiders, not all of whom wished them well. Raphael wanted to do so much more with his consort, but time was their enemy today. “I do not like abstinence,” he said against her lips.

Laughter in her eyes. “Great minds.” She ran her hands down his chest, his leathers soft under her touch. “We’ll make up for it when we’re back home.”

The dark gold of her skin pulled taut over her cheekbones, her laughter erased between one pulse and the next. “I don’t want you to go to China.”

“I must.”

“I know. Doesn’t make me any happier. The entire thing could be a giant trap.”

“It’s possible—but I don’t think even Lijuan is delusional enough to take on two Ancients at once, forget about the rest of the Cadre.”

“Since Her Creepiness thinks she’s a goddess, that fact lowers my worry levels by point one percent at most.” She touched her fingers to the Legion mark on his temple, and where her fingers brushed, wildfire sparked, as if drawn to her. “Shall we look at the map when we’re away from here? I can carry it easily in the same sheath as my crossbow bolts.”

Raphael nodded, aware the sheath had a cover she could zip up to protect her bolts from falling out during flight. It’d do as well to protect the map. “You need fuel first.”

“I’ll have a couple of energy bars.” She went to her travel case and opened an inner pocket to retrieve the bars. “I’d rather buy food from the marketplace. It’ll give us an excuse to talk to people, too. And then I don’t have to change to go to the Atrium.”

Catching the bar she threw over, Raphael bit into it.

It was as they were about to leave five minutes later that Elena said, “It would’ve been useful if I could’ve had a translation of what the woman in the marketplace told me.” It had clearly been important enough—and dangerous enough—that the woman hadn’t wanted Riad to hear it.

“I don’t suppose you have a local contact who can translate Moroccan Arabic,” she said jokingly. “And oh, someone who you trust to give us the correct translation.” It was the latter that was key, because the Luminata no doubt spoke the local language.

Raphael’s lips tugged up a little. “You will not like the answer, hbeebti.”

Surprised by his comment, she parted her lips to ask him to explain, then groaned. “Don’t say it.”

“I’m afraid I must—Tasha spent many years in Morocco once upon a time. She speaks the language flawlessly.”

Gritting her teeth, Elena said, “Can you contact her mind to mind, get a translation? And oh, damn, I’ll need to reschedule my walk with Caliane, too, since we won’t be back in time.”

“Of course I can contact Tasha. But I will not.”

“It’s fine.” Elena waved a hand. “I won’t do the jealous lover thing. She just annoys me because she’s so damn impressive.”

Raphael cupped her jaw. “She is not my warrior.”

Spreading her wings, Elena pressed her hand over his heart. “I really can handle it, Archangel.”

“I know. But I would not play with Tasha’s heart, either. Warning her about the painting was a courtesy that could not be misconstrued as anything more personal. This may cross a fine line.”

Elena remembered what Aodhan had said about Tasha watching Raphael with the eyes of a lover, nodded. If the other woman did still have feelings for Raphael, it wouldn’t be fair to give her hope that it might ever be reciprocated.

“But,” Raphael said, “we can go see my mother, speak to Tasha there.”

Raphael contacted Caliane as he and Elena left the suite. Mother, Elena needs to consult Tasha on something. We would like to meet you outside in an open space.

His mother’s response was immediate, the purity of her voice the song of his childhood. So you feel the eyes in this place, too, my son, she said. There is a garden that Tasha discovered, if you would meet us there.

Raphael got the instructions, told his mother they were on their way.

He and Elena ran into Gian not far from the garden. “Archangel, Guild Hunter.” A deep smile, not even the faintest incline of his handsome head. “May I offer any assistance? I know Lumia can be a maze.”

“My mother says there is a garden nearby,” he replied, noting Gian’s subtle insolence and disguised condescension while deliberately downplaying his ability to navigate Lumia. He had incredible power, but strategy and intelligence still counted in a battle.

Especially against a foe on home ground.

The other man’s smile appeared genuine, but Gian had been alive a long time, had headed a secretive sect for hundreds of years. A sect that was meant to change leaders every five decades. Nothing in Gian’s face could be trusted.

“Yes,” Gian said, smile holding, “it’s just down this way.” The Luminata began to lead them there, all helpfulness. “Did you enjoy your flight to the town?” he asked Elena.

“Pretty place.”

Gian nodded, expression serene. “Yes, I hear that is so.”

As if he’s never been there. Total BS if he was involved with Majda. Elena’s blade of a voice in his mind. He lies while breathing. I can’t believe I almost fell for it.

Touching his hand to her lower back, Raphael stroked gently. He has had a long time to perfect his public persona, hbeebti.

I wonder if he fooled my grandmother, too. No doubt in her now, that the woman in the miniature was her blood.

Having seen the similarity, Raphael had to agree with her conclusion.

Maybe, Elena continued, Majda ended up in Paris because she realized what he was too late. But who fathered my mom? Where’s the vampire in the family tree? It could be several generations back.

She was a hunter who’d caught the scent. And she was magnificent.

Even as his consort thought of the hunt, the hallway opened out into a courtyard that held a manicured garden, the hedges so neatly cut it was mathematical. It’s unlikely, Raphael said in response to her supposition about her vampiric ancestor. He’d have had to be under two hundred to have sired a child, but while he was clearly strong, I know of no vampire of that age who would have power enough for the kiss of his blood to last beyond a second generation.

“Many of the brothers find it calming to work in this garden,” Gian told them at the same time. “It’s a little too sedate for me”—a smile that was grace embodied—“but we all find different paths to luminescence.”

Spotting Caliane’s snow-white wings on the other side of the garden, Tasha’s copper ones beside her, Raphael said, “It seems my mother has beaten us here.”

“Thanks for being our guide.”

Gian’s eyes glowed at Elena’s words. “I hope you both enjoy your walk,” he said, but he was looking only at Elena. “The garden is beautiful at sunset.”

Raphael ran his hand down his consort’s stiff spine after Gian disappeared down the hallway, ice coating his words when he spoke. “He looks at you with covetous eyes in front of me.” The only reason Gian wasn’t dead right now was because he had answers to Elena’s questions.

She closed her own hand over the edge of his wing, stroked down in a firm caress. “Don’t let him get to you. Even if we have to come back after the world settles down, we’ll expose all his secrets.”

It was a promise.

“Mother.” Having reached Caliane, Raphael greeted her with a kiss to the cheek.

His mother, her hair a fall of midnight down her back and her body clad in a flowing gown of white with the barest tinge of green on the edges, smiled and slipped her arm through his, but not before she turned to Elena and said, “May I steal my son for a few minutes, Consort? I have missed him.”

“Of course.” Elena’s tone was gentle in a way Raphael knew his mother didn’t realize—and neither, he was certain, did his hunter. Elena had a soft spot for his mother now that it had become clear how much Caliane regretted what she’d done to Raphael.

It wasn’t only that, of course.

His consort would do anything to see her own mother again, couldn’t find it in her heart to hold on to anger against Caliane.

Knhebek, hbeebti.

Elena’s response was a kiss against his mind before she fell back with Tasha.