Archangel's Legion gh-6
Page 17
Elena said nothing, knowing he needed her to listen now.
“Once I did, I vowed not to look back, only forward.” This time, his grin was self-mocking. “I don’t manage it all the time. You’ve seen me manfully brooding—not sulking—enough times to know that. But,” he added, “I try to be conscious of any downward spiral, and I’ve found ways to enjoy my life outside of the job. Case in point: the hot brunette. Just because I can’t fuck doesn’t mean I don’t understand pleasure.”
“V, that never crossed my mind,” she said honestly. “Especially after I walked into your Academy room to ask if I could borrow a pen and found Neve Pelletier screaming in orgasm.”
A dazzling grin. “One of my proudest moments.” Moving his chair away without warning, he rolled to another bank of computers and made a call before returning. “Sorry, saw something come in Sara might be interested in.”
“You have eyes in the back of your head?”
“Exactly.” Gaze flicking once more to the Candidate confirmation, he said, “If I become a vampire, I can’t be Guild.”
“Of course you can.” Elena had already thought this through. “You won’t be able to do what you do now—divided loyalties and all that—but you’re hunter-born. We’re rare and every one of us is needed.”
“I’ve had no training—”
“You’ll have all the time in the world for training,” she reminded him. “Vamps are near-immortal.”
“Who’s going to take care of all this?” His glance took in the room. “You said it yourself. No one else can do what I do.”
“No,” Elena admitted. “But you think anyone in the Guild is going to begrudge you for making the choice to take your life in another direction?”
“That’s not the point. That info I just passed on to Sara—it means she knows the situation might be hostile and that it should be assigned to a team. If I’m not here, that intel isn’t picked up and people die.”
Wincing, Elena admitted the truth. “I got confirmation you could be a Candidate a few weeks ago. The reason I’m only telling you now is because Sara had to work out how to cover your absence if you decided to go for it.”
“Oh?” A dangerous glint in his eye.
“She realized she’d need six trained people to do what you do on your own.”
The glint turned into a smug smile. “I told you I was indispensable.”
“Yeah, yeah. Anyway, we were hoping that if you do decide to accept the Candidacy, you’d train your replacements before you go.”
Vivek was silent for a long time, his eyes on the form. “A hundred years of slavery to have the use of my body.” It was a whisper. “A hundred years at the mercy of some random immortal who might decide to treat me like a pet dog.”
“The angels aren’t stupid. You’re highly gifted—no one is going to want to put you in any kind of a menial position.”
“I won’t be able to hunt straightaway, though, will I?” A frown. “Will I even be a hunter after I’m Made?”
“I have no idea.” Elena wasn’t going to lie to him about anything. “So far as anyone knows, none of the hunter-born have ever been Made—except me, and, well, I’m kind of a special case.”
“So I might gain the use of my limbs, but lose my hunting abilities and the Guild.”
“Yes, the risk is a big one.” Only Vivek could decide whether or not it was worth it. “I can tell you one thing, though: you won’t be under the command of some random angel—you’ll be attached to the Tower, directly under the command of whichever of the Seven is in charge at the time.”
“Pulling strings for me?”
“What did you think? I’d leave my friends to hang?” She glared at him until he had the grace to look sheepish. “Raphael understands loyalty as well as any one of us. So do the Seven. The fact that I’m taking care of my own isn’t exactly a news flash.” Stretching her wings, she resettled them. “But I’m not being unselfish here, so don’t give me a halo.”
“Friends,” Vivek said slowly, “are important. Especially to an immortal in a place of power.”
“I knew the hot brunette had left you with a few brain cells.”
“If I do go through with this and come out with my hunting skills intact, then what?”
“Angels love hunters,” Elena said. “Your skills will be used, though not necessarily always as they would be by the Guild.” A blunt fact. “You’ll have to keep secrets from the Guild, and your time will be the Tower’s first, but I have a promise from Raphael that you can remain on the Guild rolls.”
Vivek flicked off the screen. “You’ve thought about everything.”
“No, V, I haven’t. I can’t. Only you can do that.” He was the one who’d be stepping into the unknown, into what could turn out to be a hundred years of hell regardless of her promises. “I just wanted you to have every bit of information I could give you.”
“Let’s finish this game,” he said at last.
Elena pointed to the board. “You made ‘cat’ while I made ‘zygote.’ The game is so over it’s prehistoric.”
Vivek laughed, his cheeks creased with lean male dimples that were an unusual sight, his eyes brilliant. And she knew, whatever his choice, their friendship would survive.
* * *
Raphael saw Elena glance at his temple as they took to the clouds minutes after landing in Japan, their intent to ride the winds for the final segment of the journey to the ancient city. “There’s been no change,” he said to her, flying close enough that they could speak.
“Good.” She drew in long breaths of the cold winter air, the mountainous forests of this part of Kagoshima spread out below them. “I always forget how untamed it is here,” she said, her wings a dramatic splash of color against the dark green when she dropped beneath the cloud layer.
Flying nearer to the forest giants, she skimmed the treetops with a grace that would’ve been unexpected in one so young in angelic terms had she not been a hunter, her body and mind used to tough physicality. Her flight startled a herd of wild horses, who went galloping off into the mists that hung over the forests from a recent rainstorm. Did you see?
Sweeping down to join her, he said, When I was a babe growing up in Amanat, my friends and I would race the horses kept in the city at that time.
Laughter in the air, her hair afire in the mountain sunlight. Did you always win?
No, that’s why it was so much fun. It was the first time in an eon that he’d recalled that memory, buried as it had been under centuries of power and politics.
Look at the treetops, he told Elena, glimpsing movement. Our curious friends are back.
Careful to maintain her height, Elena peered downward. He knew the instant she spotted the monkeys that always emerged somewhere along their flight path to Amanat—her delight unhidden, she appeared the girl she’d never had the chance to be, anointed in the blood of her sisters at an age when she should’ve been making a pest of herself to those same sisters.
There’re some more to the left, she said, her mental voice a whisper. They’re pointing at us.
Staying at his current altitude as she dared go a little closer, her white-gold primaries catching the light, he kept an eye out for threats. A day before the ball, there were apt to be any number of very dangerous people already in and around the city. And they all knew Elena was Raphael’s heart.
* * *
The strange shield of energy that usually protected Amanat not in evidence today, they flew straight through to land at the edge of it. Settling her wings, Elena followed the wild blue of her archangel’s eyes to a vampire running along the defensive wall that surrounded the ancient city.
Elena’s credentials from the Guild had always borne the legend Licensed to Hunt Vampires & Assorted Others. The historical licenses framed in the Guild library, yellowed and crumbling, all noted the same—but the funny thing was, aside from Elena’s blue-moon hunt of Uram, the men and women of the Guild didn’t hunt anything except vampires.
Today, however, as she watched Naasir loping atop the wall with a strange, liquid grace that made him appear boneless, she had the feeling she didn’t know as much as she thought. “What,” she said to Raphael, “is he?” Regardless of having visited Amanat more than once by now, she’d had very little direct contact with Naasir.
Raphael gave her a distinctly amused look. “Naasir is one of my Seven.”
“Raphael.”
“What do you think he is?”
“A tiger on the hunt, that’s how I categorized his scent the first time I met him, and I haven’t changed my mind,” she said, as Naasir came down the wall with an ease that made it seem he walked on a flat surface. “His voice might be cultured, but there’s something intensely feral about him. It’s different from what I feel with Venom . . . or deeper, I don’t know.”
“I think,” Raphael said at her frustrated growl, “I will leave Naasir a mystery for you to solve. I wouldn’t want immortality to become boring for my consort.”
Elena let out a snarl, but she was intrigued by the challenge.
The vampire reached them the next instant, inclining his head in a slight bow. “Sire.” Eyes of pure metallic silver set against skin of a rich, strokable brown met Elena’s. “Consort.” The greeting was by-the-book formal, but as always, she had the feeling that in any other situation, he’d see her as prey.
Nodding in return and resisting the urge to go for a weapon, she realized the vampire had cut his hair. It had reached the bottom of his nape the last time she’d seen him. It now just brushed it, the jagged waves around his face still as choppy and as vividly silver.
It was hard to describe that silver—it wasn’t anything like the gray of age. No, it was true silver, glittering and metallic, until she was certain that if you took strands of Naasir’s hair and wove it into a bracelet, it would appear as if it was made of the precious metal. Yet when the wind lifted his hair away from the exotic lines of his face, she saw it was soft, each strand exquisitely fine. Then they settled back into place, and so did the metallic effect.
A tiger with silver eyes.
One she’d seen with his head bent over the neck of an angel clearly in the throes of sexual bliss, his hand fisted in her hair and his fangs wet with her blood. Until that moment, she hadn’t realized angels would allow vampires to feed from them, but then, Naasir was no ordinary vampire . . . if he was a vampire at all.
21
“No, Naasir,” Raphael said, as if the other male had spoken. “You cannot make a meal of Elena.”
“A pity,” came the expressionless answer. “I’ve never eaten the flesh of such a young angel.”
Eyes narrowed, Elena looked from one to the other. “Very funny.”
Naasir’s gaze lingered on her. “I did not realize there was a joke involved.”
Okay, that raised the hairs on the back of her neck. It was a joke, right? He doesn’t actually eat angels?
Raphael stretched out his wings. Not usually, no. He prefers wilder game.
Deciding she would definitely pay her far-too-amused consort back for this, she walked on ahead of the two of them, Raphael’s presence beside Naasir the only reason she could accept the silver-eyed menace at her back.
As she walked, Elena took in the changes since their last visit. Amanat had been awakening in slow degrees, but was now literally in full bloom despite the cold. Recalling the temperate feeling in the city last time, she decided the shield must help maintain a constant pleasant temperature within.
Flowers tumbled from planters and window boxes, bright reds and lush pinks alongside unexpected blues and stunning yellows, the petals soft and the blooms ranging from tiny blossoms to roses the size of dinner plates. Their perfume was a rich tapestry that delighted her senses, lingered in the air, the colors vibrant against the stone gray of the buildings.
A passing woman dressed in a gauzy gown in a sweet shade of peach—pretty but no doubt chilly with the shield down—lowered her eyes the instant she glimpsed Elena.
Why is it every time we come here, she said, uncomfortable with the response, everyone treats me like . . .
Royalty? Because you are.
Her shoulders tightened. It was one thing to know she was consort to an archangel, another to be treated like a power when she knew full well that many of those who bowed their heads to her had far more power in their little fingers than she had in her whole “baby angel” body. Caliane doesn’t like me. It made the formal respectfulness even more unsettling.
In fact, Elena added, turning right to follow an otherwise deserted pathway when Naasir indicated the Ancient waited in that direction, she’d probably be delighted if Naasir indulged his carnivorous instincts.
My mother is an archangel of old. Whatever her opinions of our relationship, she would never air the family’s dirty laundry in public.
Have I told you how much I hate all these stupid polite rules? Scowling, she reached the end of the path . . . and the breath rushed out of her: In front of her was a small pond fed by a waterfall so elegant its sound was delicate music. Flowers grew riotously around the water, the area a carpet of bluebells that reminded her of Illium.
Only a single stone bench disturbed the blue-green of the natural carpet, and on it sat an archangel of breathtaking beauty, her hair as black as night and her wings a sweep of pure white. The crushed sapphires of her eyes seemed full of an aching sadness when she turned to see who disturbed her peace, but the dazzling joy that lit up her face at seeing Raphael soon eclipsed what had gone before.
“My son.” Rising, she walked to him through the bluebells, her wings trailing along the grass . . . and though she stepped on the flowers, they sprang back unscathed. It was a potent display of power, all the more so because Elena was certain Caliane was unaware of it, all her attention on Raphael.
When he bent to kiss her cheek, Elena saw Caliane’s eyes sheen wet. “Come.” She took his arm. “Let me show you how my city has grown since last we met.”
“Mother.” Quiet steel. “You do not greet my consort.”
“Guild Hunter.”
Elena felt the urge to check the air for frost, the greeting was so icy. I thought you said she was never rude, she muttered on the mental plane, even as she made a graceful bow courtesy of Illium’s tutoring skills.
It appears you are a special case.
Stifling a laugh at the cool response, Elena fell into step beside Naasir as Caliane drew Raphael ahead. She’d have to tell Sara about this—her best friend found her “mother-in-law problems” beyond hysterical. As a woman who’d never imagined she’d trust any male enough to tie her life to his, much less meet and deal with his mother, Elena found it cathartic to share the weirdness of this part of her life with Sara.
“Consort,” Naasir said, in that smooth voice she had the sense could become a lethal growl without warning, “there’s something the Sire has asked me to show you.”
She couldn’t read him. At all. It truly was like talking to a big, predatory beast that hadn’t yet decided whether to eat her. Palm itching, she gave in and drew a knife, playing it desultorily through her fingers like a damn security blanket. “What is it?”
“This way.” He waved to a narrower pathway to the left.
Raphael, I’m going off to parts unknown with this vampire who isn’t a vampire.
He has promised not to bite without warning.
Imagining the fiendish revenge she was going to take on Raphael for teasing her so mercilessly, she followed the silver-eyed male who continued to make her senses itch and her primal hindbrain crouch in readiness for flight. “Can I ask a question?”
No response, no reaction.
Deciding that didn’t mean no, she plowed on ahead. “Who Made you?” Venom, with his reptilian speed and the eyes of a viper, had bee
n Made by the Queen of Snakes and Poisons; it could be that Naasir, too, carried the mark of the one who’d Made him . . . if he had been Made and wasn’t a wholly unknown creature.
“A long-dead angel who thought to own me,” was his enigmatic answer, the silver in his eyes almost liquid. “I tore out his throat. After that, I ate his liver and his heart. The remaining internal organs weren’t as tasty so I gave them to his other creatures.”
Elena’s hand tightened on the handle of the knife, conscious Naasir carried gleaming blades of his own in the sheaths strapped to his arms. “I wouldn’t think a vampire who killed an angel would be permitted to live.”
A slow, feral smile. “I didn’t say I killed him.”
Every single hair in her body stood up, the same instinct that had probably saved her ancestors from saber-toothed tigers telling her to run the fuck away! Fast!
Except they’d reached an old temple that hadn’t yet been repaired, parts of it tumbled and covered with creeping vines sprinkled with tiny star-shaped flowers of blue and white. The eerie vampire-maybe-not-vampire led her up the steps. His next words were pragmatic and so civilized, she could barely believe it was the same man who’d spoken about eating an angel’s liver and heart.
“I made this discovery several hours ago,” he said. “As it’s on the edge of the city, easy to police, I decided to wait to act until the Sire’s arrival.”
An angel whispered out of the shadows on the heels of his words, her wings white with a kiss of delicate green at the primaries, from what Elena could see, and her clothing similar to Elena’s own—except this woman’s pants were of some kind of strong brown fabric instead of leather, and her white top a flowing thing rather than the more fitted styles Elena preferred. She wasn’t yet expert enough at fighting with wings to risk tangling herself or her weapons up in froufrou clothes.