by Nalini Singh
In the calm, she found her center again.
Discipline. Serenity. Learning.
The three foundations on which she’d built her chosen life.
Wild silver eyes and a sword dance that still made her breath catch.
Andromeda shook her head, fisted her hands, and closing her eyes, drew deep of the crisp air of a mountain dawn. There was no room in her life for Naasir’s brand of wildness; she only had two precious weeks to build emotional shields tough enough to survive five hundred years in hell. Those shields had to be created of absolute discipline and steel will.
Feeling the slap of wind against her cheek that signaled a nearby angelic landing, she opened her eyes. She was determined to be polite in spite of the rudeness of such a close landing, but her polite smile disappeared the instant she saw the razor-sharp cheekbones and red-streaked dark gray wings of the black-haired angel bare inches in front of her.
Xi. One of Lijuan’s generals.
Andromeda didn’t hesitate; she stepped backward off the cliff and snapped out her wings . . . but Xi hadn’t come alone. Panic buffeted her as her wings were caught in the fine threads of the net that had been waiting for her. There was no chance to recover or to go for her blades. They had her tightly wrapped within heartbeats.
Then the entire team dropped to the bottom of the gorge at dangerous speed. She screamed the whole time not out of fear but in an effort to give the guards sounds to follow, though her pragmatic side told her it had all happened too fast. The guards probably hadn’t even made it to the top of the cliff yet. And there was little chance of anyone else hearing her—almost no one flew this low in the gorge, so low that she could feel the spray of water from the thundering river beneath.
Xi’s men and women had to have been watching her, had to have learned her habits.
Her hard-fought discipline and allegiance to order and routine had been used against her.
Face pressed uncomfortably against the netting, she managed to insinuate her hand down her side to her thigh and pulled out one of her two blades. It was viciously sharp but when she tried to hack at the netting, she made no progress. Metal filaments, she realized. That was why the strands felt like they were cutting into her skin. She wasn’t getting out of this until Lijuan’s people unwrapped her.
She worked to hide her knife again. Since she never practiced in the public training areas, Xi might not be aware that she wasn’t a soft target. If they didn’t search her on landing at Lijuan’s Refuge stronghold, she could use the blades to help in her escape. While not as confident with them as with a sword, she’d been sparring with Venom since his arrival and he’d taught her a few sneaky tricks.
However, as the minutes passed and the terrain changed below her, she realized they were leaving the Refuge. Her heart chilled at the only possible explanation. She was being taken directly to Lijuan’s citadel, a place where she had no friends, no allies, and that was reputedly far from all civilization.
A place where the living were sacrificed, and the dead walked.
5
Naasir caught Andromeda’s scent on the breeze as he went outside, was about to follow it when he saw a small body flying frantically not far from him. Frowning because he knew the cub was far too young to be up so early and because he could smell the acrid bite of fear, he ran after the child and lunged up to catch one small ankle in his grip.
Sam cried out as Naasir drew him down, but then threw his arms around Naasir’s neck, his glossy black curls atumble and his black-tipped brown wings drooping over Naasir’s arm. “Naasir, Naasir, they took Andromeda!”
Naasir went motionless. “Who took her?” he asked the boy.
Chest heaving, Sam tried to get the words out. “An angel with gray and red wings,” he said on a gasp. “I thought it was a game but the angel and his friends wrapped Andromeda up in a net and took her away!”
Naasir had been moving at high speed toward Sam’s home even as he listened to the boy. “Which way did they go?” Only one angel had wings of red-streaked gray and that angel was allied to Lijuan.
Sam pointed, his brown eyes huge. “I could see them even though they went all the way to the bottom where I can’t go. I promise I saw them.”
“I believe you.” The direction taken by the enemy squadron didn’t lead to Lijuan’s Refuge stronghold. It led out of the Refuge altogether.
Blood hot with the need to hunt, to track, Naasir ran through the open door of Sam’s home. The very small cub’s mother was in the kitchen and her mouth fell open at seeing Naasir’s tiny burden. “Sameon! I thought you were still in bed.”
Sam dove into his mother’s arms. “I was going to sit on the cliff and watch Galen’s squadron but then I saw the bad angels take Andromeda. They were mean to her, Mama.”
Hugging her trembling son close and rubbing his back, Sam’s mother met Naasir’s eyes, her own gaze dark with worry.
“I will find her.” With that promise, Naasir raced out and followed Andromeda’s scent to a point on the cliff where it disappeared without a trace. She’d either flown off in an effort to evade Xi and his squadron, or been pushed off.
A few steps to the left and he confirmed it had been Xi who little Sam had seen. The general’s scent was familiar to Naasir after the years Naasir had spent in the Refuge. Xi’s scent, too, disappeared without a trace.
Aware he was racing against time, Naasir ran to the weapons arena where Galen was readying his squadron for an early-morning drill. The weapons-master took his men and women immediately into the air on hearing Naasir’s report, arrowing out on the flight path Sam had indicated.
Naasir didn’t stop. He made his way to Astaad’s Refuge territory and quickly located Dahariel. For the cruel, dangerous angel to have taught Andromeda to fight without ever making any demands on her pointed to a deeper emotional connection than Andromeda realized.
Dahariel was not known for his kindness.
The other man’s gaze glittered with ice on hearing Naasir’s report. “I’ll take my squadron to join Galen’s,” he said, his tone as cold. “You’re certain Sameon saw what he believes he saw? He is only a child.”
“Yes.” Sam didn’t lie and he was clever. “I’ll search the Refuge in case Xi doubled back and hid her here.”
A sharp nod and Dahariel lifted off on powerful wings patterned like those of an eagle, in shades of brown and black. It was possible the aerial pursuit would catch up to Xi and his men—had Illium been here, that would’ve been a certainty. But the blue-winged angel was in New York, his speed unavailable. And Xi had a head start. All he’d have to do to evade detection was take an atypical route or set down in a hidden area until nightfall.
Teeth gritted, Naasir snuck into Lijuan’s Refuge territory. There was no sign of Andromeda. Neither was there any sign of her in the Refuge territories of any of the other archangels. Her scent was freshest at the clifftop and even that had faded by the time he completed his intensive ground search.
Galen’s and Dahariel’s squadrons didn’t return until after the sun fell and the stars blazed.
They didn’t have Andromeda.
Naasir knew she had to be halfway to China by this point. To find her, he’d have to penetrate the lair of nightmare.
6
Raphael was sweat-slicked after a practice session with the dual blades he liked to use in combat, when Montgomery came out into the yard of Raphael and Elena’s Enclave home. It overlooked the Hudson, and across it, the steel and glass of Manhattan. Yes, Montgomery? he said without stopping the fury of the blades.
His consort would be bitterly disappointed to return home from her hunt to discover he’d taken time for a session. She loved to watch him, but even Elena, brave and brash and magnificent, didn’t attempt to join him. “I can’t so much as separate out your movements, you’re so fast when you do that,” she’d said the last time she watched him, her eyes sparking with unhidden appreciation. “And I’m quite fond of my head and would like to keep it attached to
my body.”
“As would I,” he’d said before taking her to the grass for another kind of sweaty, heated battle.
The truth was that no one in his territory could do this particular exercise with him. Not even his deadly second. Of the archangels, Neha alone had the skill, speed, and strength. The others preferred different weapons, but the Archangel of India and Raphael had sparred together with dual blades once upon a time, Neha slender and fluid in combat leathers as she attacked and defended in equal measures.
Raphael didn’t regret executing Neha’s daughter for her crimes, but he did regret that it had so badly damaged his relationship with an archangel who, for all her stiffly traditional thinking and occasional cruelty, cared for her people and did not hesitate to share her knowledge with younger archangels.
Sire, Montgomery replied even as those thoughts passed through Raphael’s mind in a matter of split seconds. Galen wishes to speak with you. He says it’s a matter of urgency.
Raphael was already moving toward his study before Montgomery added that last. Galen only ever made contact if he had something to say. Entering the study, he saw Galen’s face on the wall screen. “What is it?” he asked his weapons-master.
“Xi has taken Andromeda,” Galen said, then told him the details.
Putting down his blades on his desk as he listened, Raphael wiped off his face using a towel Montgomery brought in. The chilled glass of water the butler offered was also welcome. The vampire left the room straight afterward, but even had he stayed, Raphael would’ve felt no concern.
Montgomery’s loyalty was without question.
“Naasir’s already on his way to China,” Galen said, the harsh angles of his face set in grim lines. “He caught a ride with my squadron to the airport. The jet’ll take him as far as Japan, after which he says he has his own methods of crossing undetected into Lijuan’s territory.” Galen shoved a hand through the deep red of his hair. “He refused backup, said anyone but Jason would get them both caught.”
“Wait,” Raphael said and, splitting the screen, contacted Jason. “Where are you?”
It turned out Raphael’s spymaster was in Neha’s territory, right next door to Lijuan’s. “Mahiya isn’t yet ready to return to her homeland and talk to her mother,” the black-winged angel said, speaking of his mate. “But she asked me to check up on her.”
“I need you to meet Naasir.”
When Raphael laid out the reason why, Jason’s skin pulled taut over his facial bones, the intricate Polynesian-inspired tattoo that covered the left side of his face suddenly stark against his brown skin. “There’s a reason I’ve always told Naasir not to try and get into Lijuan’s citadel.”
Galen, able to hear the conversation since Raphael had looped him in, nodded. “He’s too reckless, with no care for his life.”
That wasn’t quite true; Naasir did care for his life. He simply had no fear. As a result, he took far too many chances for Raphael to be certain he wouldn’t be caught by Lijuan—and unlike when Naasir had been a child, Lijuan wouldn’t forgive the trespass. “You’ve been in the citadel,” he said to Jason. “Can Naasir get in?”
“Yes.” Not in its usual queue today, strands of Jason’s black hair blew across the curves and fine dots of the ink that marked him. “He’s also stealthy enough to get away with it, if he doesn’t allow his more primal instincts to take the lead.”
“That might be a problem,” Galen said, his hands on his hips and tone rough with concern. “He was adamant that Andromeda is his responsibility.”
Galen had good cause to worry. Once Naasir took on such a task, he’d die before failing. “Go,” Raphael ordered Jason. “Track him down, and help him break out the scholar.” He knew Jessamy’s apprentice wouldn’t have been harmed . . . or not badly harmed in any case. Lijuan wanted the information Andromeda held in her head.
And her blood was that of Lijuan’s closest ally.
“Sire.” Jason signed off.
“Is the scholar likely to cooperate with Lijuan to save her skin?” Raphael asked Galen.
“No.” A response that held not the slightest hesitation or doubt. “Every time I’ve spoken to her on the subject of Alexander, she’s been adamant in her distaste for what we all believe Lijuan intends to do.”
“Lijuan’s Refuge stronghold?”
“It stands—she’s left a full squadron there and they’re bristling today.”
Raphael had believed Lijuan understood the lines she’d crossed when she precipitated a battle in the Refuge, but clearly her arrogance left no room for the rules that bound their race. “How long is Andromeda capable of surviving in Lijuan’s citadel?”
“Not many know that she’s a fully trained and capable warrior,” his weapons-master told him. “So she’ll survive—but I don’t know if she’ll survive whole. Lijuan’s methods of persuasion can be horrific.”
In Galen’s pale green eyes was the knowledge that no one who experienced Lijuan’s brand of “hospitality” ever came out the same.
7
Andromeda had forced herself to stop struggling during the journey. The futile action would only tire her out and leave her defenseless when they reached their destination.
Do not be stupid. That is the first lesson of battle. Think.
Repeating Dahariel’s words silently in her mind, she lay painfully quiescent.
As it was, Xi’s squadron did stop twice. The first time, it was in an ice-strewn cave only about an hour out from the Refuge. And though they stayed there until daylight had faded from the skies, Xi didn’t release Andromeda, despite her repeated requests. She finally worked out that they wanted her tied up and ready to go should they have to make a rapid departure.
Stiff and cold after so many hours in such discomfort, she was almost grateful when they did finally take off again. At least this way, she had fresh air. The second stop came deep into the night, on a small island that was a dot in the ocean. She might have been tempted to fly off, but her wings were severely cramped from being crushed in the net, and she knew her speed in flight was nowhere close to Xi’s. Better to bide her time, to be smart and wait for a better opportunity.
“I can fly,” she said after the short rest period when she’d been given some water and trail bread to replenish herself. “There’s no need to truss me up like a chicken.”
Xi didn’t answer, just threw a blindfold in her direction. “Or I can blind you,” he said conversationally when she balked. “Given your age and the complexity of eyes, they’ll probably take three months or so to grow back.”
A trickle of cold sweat rolled down her spine. “I’m sure your archangel wouldn’t be well pleased by such abuse.” Lijuan needed her.
“You don’t need eyes to tell my lady what she needs to know.” The general stared at her, his own eyes as dark and hard as onyx. “Which will it be?”
She put on the blindfold, wondering once again why evil wasn’t ugly. Her grandfather with his skin of deep gold and hair of richest brown, had been beautiful before the ravages of disease, would be again when his body healed. A mortal poet had once written of him, saying:
My heart’s blood for but a single instant
My soul for the agonizing glory of his touch
Such beauty is not meant for mortal eyes
It maddens. It ravages. It murders.
Xi, too, was a very handsome angel and she knew he had no dearth of lovers. Long ago, before she’d realized the cold heart that beat in his chest, she’d admired his form in flight—he was a sleek and beautiful machine, his one-of-a-kind wings starkly beautiful.
Yet even as she thought of his nature, she knew that to his squadron, he wasn’t evil. To them, he was simply a loyal general serving his lady. The fact his lady had proven she had little regard for the lives of the people she professed to rule, and yet Xi still followed her, that was what made him evil.
“How can you justify it?” she said to him when he hauled her up to her feet.
No answer as
he lashed her wrists together.
Her blindness made her bold. “Giving your allegiance to an archangel who turned her people into the walking dead?” The reborn were nightmares given flesh and set free to feed, to infect, to murder. “If that alone is not crime enough, she feeds from the lifeforce of her subjects and leaves them dry husks.”
As a scholar and apprentice teacher who worked under Jessamy, Andromeda had access to reports filed by both sides of the fierce battle above New York. Each had used different words, but neither disagreed on the basics: Raphael’s side said Lijuan had fed on the lifeforce of her people until she was glutted with power.
Andromeda could still remember the line in the report that had made her skin chill: Her mouth was rimmed with blood after she lifted it from the neck of her sacrifice.
Lijuan’s side had stated that her soldiers had volunteered in droves so their archangel could gain glory. In this, the soldiers had found honor beyond mortal or immortal ken, leaving a proud legacy for those of their bloodline.
In this case, Andromeda had a feeling both reports were equally true.
One side had seen horror, the other side honor.
She couldn’t fault Xi for the reports he’d personally filed: he’d been brutally honest in terms of the wins and losses of battle. He also hadn’t attempted to make it seem as if Lijuan had won—though he had softened her fall, as would any loyal general, saying that his lady had retreated from the field of battle so that she would be strong for the war to come.
His interpretation was strikingly different from the report filed by Illium. Raphael’s lead aerial commander had stated that Raphael “blew Lijuan to smithereens,” though Illium, too, had made a note that Lijuan may or may not be dead: Zhou Lijuan is an archangel and they do not easily die.