Archangel's Heart

by Nalini Singh

  "Ibrahim is mine," Neha confirmed, crouching down again to touch his hand gently with her own before she rose. "A vampire seconded to Lumia was also said to have deserted out of boredom."

  "Two," Michaela snapped. "Two of my most talented young angelic warriors, seconded here as squadron leaders for a short term because Lumia is considered a prestigious position and I wanted them to have that experience on their records."

  I keep forgetting she's an actual archangel, Elena said. One who obviously rules well since her territory is stable. Then she says something like that.

  Never forget no archangel is one-dimensional. It was a lesson that could well save her life one day.

  "One," Titus said in his booming voice. "A young vampire who disappeared without a trace and who, it was told to me, had been aggressive before he strode off into the darkness never to be seen again."

  In the end, the Cadre confirmed they'd lost a total of at least twenty-five vampires as well as ten angels over the centuries since Gian took leadership. Most of the latter had been seconded as squadron leaders.

  The number wasn't much in the grand scheme of things, but fighters with enough promise to be sent to Lumia were considered valuable assets and many had personal relationships with their archangels--or with the weapons masters of those archangels. They had been missed. The only reason no one had connected the dots was because the disappearances and deaths had been spread out across many archangelic territories and over centuries.

  "Why did they die?" The question came from Alexander, and it was directed not at Gian, but at Jean-Baptiste. "Did Gian boast of his reasons?"

  Once more, even in the face of an Ancient's regard, the vampire held his ground.

  Any archangel would be proud to have your grandfather in his forces, hbeebti.

  Pride tinged the silver-rimmed gray of his consort's eyes when she smiled at him.

  "They began to ask questions," Jean-Baptiste said.

  "Liar!" Gian's attempt at a yell was only a slightly louder rasp that everyone ignored, their attention on the vampire who was Elena's blood.

  "All of the ones who are gone were highly intelligent," the other man said, "and they weren't willing to look the other way when they realized Lumia was breaking the rules that permit it to be a self-governing society."

  Shoulder muscles bunched and his feet set firmly apart, he said, "The current squadrons are all privately sourced and paid for with the money the Luminata bring in with them when they pledge to Lumia--it means there is no risk the men will have any loyalty but to Lumia."

  Majda spoke into the pause, gripping at the back of her husband's forearm and voice trembling. Yet she would not be silenced. "He calls himself the King of Kings, a man beyond the reach of anyone on this earth."

  Michaela would've fried Gian on the spot if Raphael hadn't held up a hand. "I call blood debt."

  Everyone froze.

  He waited for a challenge, but what he got was an incline of the head from Neha. "It is obvious you have a right to the blood debt." Her eyes flicked to Elena, Majda, and Jean-Baptiste. "For the sake of formalities, do you claim the two vampires as family?"

  "Yes." He turned to Favashi. "Will you dispute?"

  A shake of her head. "Jean-Baptiste's term of service at Lumia ended four decades ago. He is free to choose his allegiance."

  "The copy of your consort is young, Raphael," Michaela said, hip cocked, one hand placed on that hip. "She remains within her Contract period, will have to serve it out to whoever owns her."

  Jean-Baptiste closed his hand tightly over his wife's as Majda's face went white. Jaw rigid, he said, "Gian Made her by force. There is no Contract."

  His words were live grenades thrown into the room. The Making of vampires was strictly regulated. Each archangel had his or her own rules, but there were rules. Angels couldn't simply go around Making vampires; they needed the permission of at least one of the Cadre, though that permission might be given once and hold for millennia.

  There were meant to be no vampires in the world who did not trace back to at least one of the Cadre, even if the thread was a nebulous one where the Cadre member would not interfere in the vampire's existence except in very rare circumstances. It had to do with the balance of the world, with blood and with life.

  "He lies," Gian said again. "She is Charisemnon's."

  This time, Raphael knew they couldn't simply ignore the words.

  Unexpectedly, it was Raphael's mortal enemy who handed Majda her freedom. "Do you think me a fool?" Charisemnon said to Gian, his voice full of rage. "I will not be used by a mere angel who wishes to meddle in the affairs of his betters. The woman is yours, Raphael."

  Raphael turned to Majda. "Choose your allegiance--you are not under Contract, but you must be under archangelic oversight until you have passed ten decades as a vampire."

  Despite the fact Jean-Baptiste was free and clear of his own obligations to serve an archangel, he came immediately to kneel in front of Raphael. He had his hand clasped around his wife's, and though it was apparent she didn't understand the rules, she followed him without hesitation.

  "I swear to be loyal. My blood is your blood," Jean-Baptiste said, his wife repeating the words. "My life is yours to command. I will serve no other but you."

  Raphael nodded at the two to return to their previous positions. "Gian is mine to punish," he said flatly. "However, the wider question of Lumia remains."

  "Raze it," Favashi said, exposing the steel core that lived beneath her soft, elegant surface. "There should've never been a place on earth that wasn't under Cadre control."

  Charisemnon nodded. "We are the masters of this world."

  "If I may . . ." The hesitant words were spoken by Donael, the eons-old angel having been hovering on the edge of the circle since the beginning.

  Neha looked at him with a coldness that spoke of the poison that was her greatest weapon. "Speak, Donael. I give you this opportunity only because I knew you once as a man of great wisdom."

  *

  Bowing his head lower than Elena had ever before seen one of the Luminata bow to anyone, Donael said, "The Luminata play an important role in angelic society. We are the seekers of knowledge and the keepers of art, and we are the one group that can call the Cadre to a meeting when things reach a breaking point as they have in Lady Lijuan's territory."

  He breathed deep, exhaled. "Ending us will leave a vacuum. And even should we put all that aside, angels need a space where they can come to find their souls, a place where the mind can be free."

  Elena felt her lips twist at that pretty little speech, but she kept her silence. Surprisingly, it was Hannah who broke it, the other woman having come in with Elijah. "I would speak," she said quietly. "Not as Elijah's consort, but as an artist."

  When no one in the Cadre interrupted, she said, "I have been absorbed in the Gallery since we arrived. I found great joy in this place that safely houses so much of our artistic history."

  Elena saw Donael begin to smile. But Hannah wasn't done.

  "However," she said, "even as I studied the astonishing array in the Gallery, I was aware that few eyes ever get to see these works of art." A frown lay heavy on her elegant features. "The Luminata have become a more and more closed sect in the time since I have been Elijah's consort, until ordinary angels do not believe they have the right to come here and interrupt the brothers' contemplation."

  No smile on Donael's face now, nothing but an insulted stiffness.

  "That is not right," Hannah said. "If the Gallery is a library of the greatest art produced by our people, then angelkind should be able to visit at will, should be encouraged to visit. It disturbs me that the Luminata seem to consider these treasures their own and that they, and they alone, are the ones who decide which works will be displayed and which won't."

  The other consort's gaze went to beyond Elena. "I would ask that Aodhan also be permitted a voice."

  "He is an artist," Caliane murmured. "A respected student of the Humming
bird. I would hear his thoughts."

  Aodhan rarely spoke when he was with a larger group, but today, he said, "Lady Hannah speaks true. It is also regretful that the Luminata have discarded artworks without any oversight.

  "While I was visiting with the healer who has been helping Ibrahim"--he indicated Laric's small form, the healer almost hiding behind Aodhan--"I discovered a damaged painting by the Hummingbird. Laric saved it from a room that seems to act as a gathering place for things bound for destruction, was told he could have it as it was no longer good enough for the Gallery."

  The reaction to his revelation was visible and audible. Even Titus, who Elena hadn't thought was particularly artistically inclined, fisted his hands. Illium's mother is far more important to angelkind than I understand, isn't she?

  Raphael's response held a gentleness he only ever betrayed when speaking about the Hummingbird. She is a treasure, broken perhaps beyond repair, but a treasure nonetheless.

  44

  "If we have made mistakes," Donael said into the dangerous quiet, "we are happy to mend our ways. If the Cadre says the Gallery should be open to all angelkind, then it will be opened."

  "That is the problem, Donael," Astaad said, his fingers stroking his goatee. "The Luminata should have come to that conclusion themselves. What is the goal of luminescence if not wisdom?"

  Elena wanted to speak so badly that she could feel the words shoving at her throat, but she'd learned a few things about angelic politics in the time since she'd become Raphael's consort. Her voice could well work against her interests--many of the Cadre still viewed her as too mortal to understand immortal concerns.

  She held her silence. For now.

  "You set yourself up as rulers in my territory," Charisemnon said, his eyes hot with a rage that had never died down. "How do you excuse this?"

  Donael bowed low again. "There is no excuse."

  "Pretty words." Michaela's green eyes glowed as if backlit. "You are one of the oldest and most respected men here, and yet you expect us to believe you did not know of your brethren's traitorous actions?"

  "I focused too deep on my own luminescence," Donael said, apology in every line of his body. "I let Gian and his coterie run things because it was easier than arguing and because it permitted me to walk the path without distractions."

  "As far as I'm concerned," Elena muttered under her breath, "he's as culpable as Gian."

  Wildfire blue eyes met hers. "I agree, Guild Hunter. But we must let this run through--there are certain rules to be observed."

  "That is akin to a general leaving his troops in the care of a lower-ranked soldier," Titus said, folding his arms across his massive chest, his muscles bulging under the cream-colored linen of his shirt. That color reflected the feathers at the inner curve of his left wing, before they darkened slowly into a golden honey shade at the primaries, the change so gradual that it was impossible to say where one color ended and the other began.

  His right wing was the opposite: golden honey at the inner curve, flowing out into pure cream primaries.

  "The Gallery is a custom-built construction that has survived countless earth shakes, storms, and rains," Favashi pointed out, dismissing Donael without a word. "Should it survive this storm, there is no need to destroy it even if we erase the Luminata."

  "Agreed." That came from every one of the Cadre.

  The Luminata, meanwhile, were beginning to turn a little green--and Donael no longer looked so confident in his self-appointed role as speaker for the sect. But he spoke again. "We cannot all be blamed for the actions of the few."

  Alexander stirred. "He is correct in one respect. We should separate the ones who truly seek luminescence from the ones who are here only because Lumia provides them a safe haven from angelic law."

  "Elijah," Raphael said. "The mortal women we discovered, we need to speak to them."

  "I will fetch them," Hannah said and disappeared from the room in a sweep of wings, to return a bare minute later, Josette and Sahar having clearly been stashed nearby.

  The two were dressed in simple but exquisite gowns that must've come from Hannah, their hair braided neatly. Fear made their faces stark, their movements ragged as they followed Hannah to stand between her and Elijah.

  "Can you identify the Luminata who visited you?" Hannah asked without prompting.

  The women trembled.

  "No harm will come to you." It was Michaela who spoke. "You have the promise of the Cadre."

  Josette's amber eyes met Elena's at that instant. Elena gave her a slight nod.

  "Yes," the Frenchwoman whispered. "I know the ones who came to me." She named them one by one. "I was willing," she added in fairness. "They said I could go afterward."

  Space appeared around certain Luminata as their brethren drew away in a whisper of robes.

  Finishing her list, Josette whispered to Sahar, who nodded and, standing up straight, began to recite her own list. "Two don't give name, say to call him 'Master.'" Her descriptions of those two were very precise.

  More spaces opened up.

  In the end, the women marked twelve Luminata, not counting Gian--who appeared to have saved his sadism for Majda and Jean-Baptiste.

  Faces holding no arrogance now, nothing but terror, the twelve marked men obeyed an order to join their leader, all going down on their knees, heads bowed.

  "We strayed off the path," one whispered. "Please forgive us."

  Elena recognized that rough voice. Gervais. The man who had referred to the Luminata's victims as "sluts and toys." Gritting her teeth, she gripped Raphael's hand hard to keep herself from stabbing the bastard right through his lying mouth.

  Blood spurted from his mouth in the next instant.

  Elena jerked, wondering if she had thrown the knife. Then his eyes began to bleed, as did his ears. She didn't know which archangel in the circle had done that, but as his body fell twitching to the floor, his brethren began to beg for mercy.

  "Silence!" Alexander's voice filled the air, cutting off all other sound. "I do not care for mortal concerns except in my own territory," he said, "but I care that vampires were Made without permission, that immortals were murdered, and that the Luminata believe themselves beyond all oversight. That ends today."

  "First," Caliane murmured, "we must dig out every piece of the rot. Thirteen alone could not have done this." She began to sing, a haunting, beautiful song that brought tears to Elena's eyes and had Majda and Jean-Baptiste clinging to each other.

  The most interesting affect, however, was on the Luminata.

  A number seemed compelled to drag themselves to join their marked brethren, some literally crawling there on their hands and knees as they fought the pull, their faces distorted into a mask of horror as Caliane stripped away their free will.

  For the first time, Elena couldn't bring herself to care. These men had stolen others' free will; the punishment suited the crime.

  Caliane stopped singing when the group in the center had grown to twenty-seven and no other Luminata crawled forward. "These are the ones who abused and murdered mortals, and who killed the vampires and angels who would not look the other way." She flicked out a hand and twenty-six bodies, including Gervais's yet-twitching form, turned to ash under the searing white of her power.

  Gian stared unblinking at where his brethren had knelt.

  "You may not care about mortal concerns outside your lands, Alex," Caliane murmured, "but I have always believed that we rule only if we prove ourselves rulers."

  Heart thunder in her ears, Elena swallowed to wet a dry throat. Jesus, Raphael. Your mother doesn't play games.

  She is too old for it. Pure ruthlessness in his tone. And her song does not lie.

  Oh, I'm not sorry the bastards are dead.

  "There is a second layer of rot," Elijah said into the stunned silence.

  "Yes. The ones that knew and did nothing, though they did not participate." The Archangel of India looked around at the Cadre. "We must make certain decision
s."

  Whatever happened next, it wasn't vocalized, but Elena could feel the violent energy in the air as the Cadre spoke mind to mind. It was Caliane who pronounced the judgment. "The Cadre is agreed. Lumia will continue to exist, as will the Luminata."

  No one shuddered in relief, well aware the hammer was yet to fall.

  "Only Luminata who have joined the sect in the past fifty years are permitted to remain--we judge that these novices are apt to be untainted by corruption and offer the best hope for Lumia's future. The rest are exiled forever from Lumia."

  Donael fell to his knees, his face crumpling into near-tears. "Mercy, my lady."

  Caliane's eyes held no pity. "If you are a true seeker, you do not need Lumia. You will find luminescence on a rocky mountaintop or on sandy soil or in a ragged hut in the forest. You do not need the comforts of this place."

  It was a harsh judgment.

  "There is no appeal," Charisemnon added, his tone unbending.

  "And," Alexander said, "Lumia will now be under direct Cadre oversight, watched over by a group formed of angels and vampires from each of our territories. The private guard will be disbanded."

  "As for the charge given to the Luminata to call the Cadre to meet," Neha said, "you still hold this charge for it is unlikely the issue will come up again in the near future. By the time it does, it is the Cadre's hope that the Luminata will be back on the right path."

  Raphael, the townspeople. We made a promise.

  Trust me, Elena-mine.

  Always. With not just her life, but the lives of all those she loved.

  There were a number of other comments by the Cadre. It was as things appeared to be winding down that Raphael spoke. "We cannot leave the situation with the town as it is."

  "Not all of us have a soft spot for mortals," Michaela said with silken venomousness.

  Thank God, Elena thought to herself. Michaela had been acting a little too likable. Good to know she was still a bitch.

  "It is a town only of mortals."

  That fact caused several frowns.

  "An imbalance that could spread." Alexander looked at Caliane.

  His fellow Ancient nodded. "Such an imbalance has led to mass bloodshed in the past. When you isolate a group of prey, it is an invitation to a certain class of vampires."