by Nalini Singh
Grabbing one, he hauled her close, his blade at her throat. “I win,” he said, both their chests heaving.
A sharp prick against his heart. “Wanna bet?”
Grinning, he bent his head and kissed her, half expecting her to slide the blade in, she was so pissed. But she returned his kiss, hot, wild, and wet, her tongue rubbing against his own. “You ever taunt me with Tasha again,” she said in a harsh whisper when they broke the kiss to gasp in air, “and I will geld you.”
Raphael winced. “That would take at least a day to repair. Are you sure you want to lose my . . . attributes for that long?”
A twitch of her lips, eyes bright. He could see her struggling to hold in the laughter, but it was a losing battle and she was soon doubled over with her hands on her knees, her laugher wild color in the air.
For the first time, I envy you, Raphael.
Glancing up, he caught Keir’s gaze. It’s not every man who has his lover out for his blood.
Keir’s laugh was quiet, as, waving good-bye, he disappeared into his suite. It was Naasir who jumped down onto the courtyard with feral grace. Picking up the discarded knives, he held them out to an Elena who was now upright and wiping tears of laughter from her face.
“Thanks,” she managed to say, before secreting away the knives with such speed, Raphael couldn’t follow her movements or tell where exactly she’d hidden the sleek weapons.
“Why did you cheat?” the vampire asked, head cocked. “With the knives?”
“Er, I was fighting an archangel who can crush me like a bug. Of course I was going to cheat—especially since we had a score to settle.”
Naasir stared at her, then grinned. “We’ll spar when I’m in New York.”
Twenty-five minutes later, they’d showered and dressed in preparation for the trip home, and Elena still wasn’t sure quite what had happened. “Does he like me now?” she asked, as they ate a light breakfast in readiness for heading out on the wing.
“Naasir likes very few people, but I think he finds you interesting.”
“Hmm.” She bit into her honey toast. “I’m not sure I want to be found ‘interesting’ by a tiger creature. He probably finds other fresh meat interesting, too.”
“Tiger creature?”
“Stop laughing.” Scowling, she poured him a glass of orange juice and pushed it across. “Sorry about the funk when I woke up.”
He took the juice, the humor fading from eyes the breathtaking hue of a high mountain lake. “Why today?” he asked gently. “You’ve never been so defeated by the nightmare memories.”
“I don’t know. I really don’t.” It had simply felt as if she’d been beaten to a bloody pulp, every one of her achievements erased by the crushing ugliness of horror. “I just”—she blew out a breath—“I wish I could be fixed, so I could remember my sisters, my mother, without the pain.”
Raphael didn’t offer her platitudes, just grim pragmatism. “You’re young. The memories will never disappear, but they’ll lose their power to cause such harm over time.”
“No offense, but I don’t want to be screaming myself awake for the next hundred years.” The immortal concept of “time,” she’d learned, was far different from a mortal’s.
“You’re far too stubborn for such a possibility to come into being.” Reaching across, he rubbed his thumb over her cheek. “There’s a reason the nightmares are getting worse, and you know why.”
Startled, she frowned. “What reason? It’s not close to the anniversary.”
“Sometimes, hbeebti, you surprise me.” Dropping his hand, he said a single word—“Eve”—and all the pieces fell into place.
Her half sister, only a little older than Elena had been when Slater Patalis destroyed her world, was just coming into her power as a hunter. As Elena had been that fateful year. “Wow,” she whispered, her fingers motionless on the white tablecloth. “How did I not see that?”
“It is too close a hurt.”
“Maybe.” Picking up her juice, she finished the glass before speaking again. “I guess some part of my subconscious is terrified it’ll happen again.”
“Yes—especially as you’ve now formed a true bond with Eve.”
Where before, they’d been strangers with half the same blood. “Do you think Jeffrey’s scared, too?” she asked, thinking of the vicious wounds it must score on a man’s soul to bury first his children, then his wife.
“His emotional state is irrelevant.” Raphael’s face was brutal in its repudiation. “It’s because of him that you didn’t have what you needed to heal as a child.”
She knew he was right, but it was strange, how now that she’d finally begun to look at Jeffrey through the eyes of an adult and not a child, it was so much harder to despise him. “I don’t know if I can ever forgive him for what he did to me, but I might not hate him if he gets it right with Eve.” Except she was terribly afraid that was a futile hope.
* * *
A half hour later and they were on their way out of the city when who should flag them down onto a rooftop but Tasha. “I’m so glad I caught you,” she said, her hair tied back to showcase the blade she wore diagonally across her back. “I did so wish to say good-bye.”
Trying not to gag at the oh-so-sincere comments that came her way in the next few minutes, Elena smiled. “I’m sorry we can’t stay longer, but it looks like rain.” She put on her best frown as she tilted back her head to stare at the clouds.
“Elena is right,” Raphael said to Tasha. “We cannot risk a delay.”
“Of course.” Tasha was all elegance and charm when they said their good-byes. “I hope we’ll meet again soon.”
That was very bad of you, Elena, Raphael said once they were in the air. You know the coming sun shower will pass in but a moment.
I also know Tasha McHotpants is regretting she didn’t scoop you up when you were young and single. Altering her mental tone, she said, Oh, Raphael, what luck I caught you. And me dressed up like a warrior with a sword and everything. She snorted. Luck my ass.
McHotpants?
Shut up. I’m mad. Especially after that stunt you pulled this morning.
Then you know I’m more partial to knives than swords anyway.
Teasing me right now could be bad for your health.
To her surprise, he did go silent. It wasn’t until he pointed out the volcano some distance to their left that she understood why, her own blood heavy with turbulent emotion. Later that day, a young woman who’d done nothing but go for a walk in the woods would be laid to rest in the heart of that volcano.
As soon as the rites were completed, Amanat would once again become a closed city, according to what Raphael had told her as they showered. Caliane had agreed to stand sentinel against the darkness on this side of the world, while they fought it on the other. Much as Elena wanted all their preparation to be for nothing, she knew that was a wasted hope.
The drums of war pounded closer with every heartbeat.
* * *
Winging into Manhattan after the jet landed on a private airfield nearby, Elena breathed deep of the biting cold air of home. It had promised snow for a couple of weeks without delivering, but she felt sure that’d change very soon. “Anything from Aodhan?” she said, when Raphael came alongside.
“No, the city has been quiet since we—” He paused, his eyes locked on the Hudson.
“What is it?” It appeared as it always did to her, but she knew he had the piercing eyesight of a bird of prey.
“Watch.”
The water began to crash and froth even as he spoke. Managing to hover beside Raphael as he halted at the river’s edge, Elena glanced to the right . . . and that was when she saw it, the wave of red. Rich and dark, it rolled down the river in an eerie tide that made the hairs rise on the back of her neck, the scent of living iron pungent in the air. “Is that blood?”
“There’s only one way to find out.” He swept down to the water, hovering lower than she could manage with her curr
ent wing strength, until his fingertips skimmed the red stain.
Bringing his fingers to his nose, he shook off the wet and rose to her side. “Blood,” he confirmed. “But it’s weakening.”
As they watched, the water turned rose red, then pink, then blush, until it was the murky brown of a churned-up Hudson again, the unmistakable scent gone as if it had never existed. That was when the snow began to fall, airy flakes that whispered over her wings and face to settle on the city, a caress of whiteness to erase the blood.
“What we just saw”—she stared at the water—“should’ve been impossible.”
“Did Jessamy not say something about blood raining from the skies during the Cascade? This would seem to fall along the same continuum.”
“And the archangels were not who they should be, and bodies rotted in the streets and blood rained from the skies as empires burned.”
“Jesus, Raphael,” Elena said, as the historian’s words rang in her mind, “this is really happening.” And it wasn’t just going to be a war. “It’s going to be an event that changes the face of our world.” Her brain could barely comprehend the scale of what was coming.
Raphael’s eyes met hers, the snow continuing to drift from a crystalline sky. “In the hours I spent with Caliane, she told me more of the last Cascade.” Shadows of terrible darkness in the intense, impossible blue of his eyes.
“I almost don’t want to know,” she whispered, all the while aware this was a truth that couldn’t be avoided.
Her archangel angled his wings toward the Tower, and she did a wider sweep to follow. “You are consort to an archangel. You no longer have a choice.”
26
Aodhan was waiting for them on the Tower balcony outside Raphael’s office. “Sire, I’ve sent out people to keep watch for any signs of unrest caused by the event.”
The event.
Elena guessed there really was no other way to describe a river turning to blood.
“Panic has been stifled before it could take root.” Aodhan’s eyes reflected splinters of Manhattan as he looked toward the water. “However, members of the public no doubt captured live footage of the event and the Tower will need to issue an explanation.”
“No.” Raphael’s tone was autocratic, his face stripped of all traces of “humanity.” “There are to be no explanations. Say only that it is Cadre business and if anyone insists on further information, tell them to contact me directly.”
Anyone stupid enough to take him up on that offer, Elena thought, deserved what they got. Most mortals never came near an archangel for a reason—the power differential was so vast it created a gulf that couldn’t be crossed from either side except in the most extraordinary of circumstances. The longer she spent in the immortal world, the more she understood that that gulf was a safety net; anything else would lead only to death for countless humans.
Still—“People will be scared.” She had to speak for the humans and the ordinary vampires, because Raphael simply didn’t understand that kind of helplessness. He’d never been weak, not even as a child. “If we don’t do something to reduce their fear, the morale of the city could dip to dangerous levels, and it’s already shaky after the Falling.”
“Illium is of the same opinion,” Raphael said, his skin glowing with a fine undertone of power she’d never before seen. It defined his bones even more sharply, his eyes such violent flames it was difficult to look at them. “He requests your assistance in creating a diversion.”
Elena hesitated. Raphael, you’re doing the scary archangel thing. The really scary one.
Resettling his wings to shrug off the snow, he touched his fingers to her jaw as Aodhan disappeared into the Tower. The touch made her skin tingle, her heart thud against her ribs, because the power of him was a pulse in her blood. “You’ve become stronger,” she whispered, her relief intermingled with worry, because while this was good news, she didn’t like the sudden cold remoteness of him.
This man, she thought, would never taunt her in a fight or take her dancing through the skyscrapers. He was too distant, too inhuman. He was also hers and she wouldn’t surrender him to anything or anyone. Raising her own hand on that fierce vow, she placed her palm against his cheek, the power seeping into her potent enough to steal her breath. “Raphael.”
“It’s a storm inside my skin.” His voice echoed with the same whispers she’d heard in their shared dream.
Her mind shuddered, reminded of the screams she’d heard in Lijuan’s voice . . . but this, it was different. It made her skin chill in a way that had nothing to do with the falling snow, yet there was no instinctive revulsion, no horror, no sense of evil. No, all she sensed was power, of a kind she’d never touched, even after coming in contact with the Cadre. “The storm came with the blood river?”
“Yes. I felt it form as the tide rolled in, grow stronger when my fingers touched the water.” The whispers still there, he kissed her and she felt the ice of his newfound power seep into her bones, the cold bitterly painful. But she held on, her hands spread on his chest and her love for him a passionate fire.
“Such fear I feel in you, Elena,” he murmured, his eyes on her mouth before he kissed her again, the cold blade of him searing her flesh. “Do you think I’ll cause you harm?”
“No.” Breath harsh from the bands of ice that crushed her rib cage, she wrapped her arms around his neck and spoke against his lips. “I’m worried about you.”
“There is no need.”
“No offense,” she said with a scowl, “but it’s hard to accept that when your skin is glowing and I’m about to turn into a freaking icicle!”
He laughed, the breeze playing through his hair and the snow caught on his eyelashes. “I’m digesting the power, for lack of a better word.” Another kiss, this one rawly sexual. “Is that better, hbeebti?” It was a private whisper, his hand on her breast in the cocoon created by his wings.
She shuddered, her breast seeming to swell to fill his palm. “One way to heat a woman up.” The ice of his new strength remained, but she could feel his cock against her abdomen, sense her Raphael beneath the power-laced skin of the archangel. “I want to take you home and lock us in our bedroom until you’re no longer so cold.”
A squeeze of her breast, another demanding kiss before he dropped his hand and folded back his wings. “Later. For now you must go and help Illium calm the populace.”
Not wanting to leave him when he was still not quite right, but conscious they had to get the mood of the city under control, she kissed him again before flying off. If you get the sudden urge to raise flesh-eating dead, she said from the air, let me know so I can come snap you out of it.
You have my promise.
Still not sure she was happy about the whole river-of-blood/strange-influx-of-power situation, she landed on a rooftop not far from the river’s edge just as the snow stopped falling, the sun’s rays refracted off a city covered in a fine, featherlight blanket of white. The rooftop had a direct line of sight to the river, and she could see swarms of people on the piers, gesticulating wildly as they gathered around camera phones that had no doubt caught the weirdness.
Blue feathers with glittering silver filaments filled her vision a second later, followed by the wings of an angel with eyes of gold abundant in their mischief. “Come on, Ellie.” He threw her a baseball mitt, his own left hand already gloved, a ball in his right. “Let’s go play catch above the Hudson.”
Elena stared. “That’s your grand plan for managing people’s fear?”
“You ever seen angels playing catch?” A raised eyebrow. “Exactly.”
Figuring what the hell, she followed him to the river, where they were joined by three other angels from the Tower, all of whom grinned and saluted her before calling out to Illium to stop delaying and prepare to get his ass kicked. Illium shot back a colorful insult . . . and then they played catch, angel-style.
“Holy hell!” She dived and rose as the ball went in every possible direction, the pla
yers attempting to beat one another to it and/or stop it from hitting the water. Elena wasn’t anywhere near as fast as Illium or the others, but she held her own by using her brain to calculate angles, even making a couple of surprise intercepts that put her on the points table.
Less than two minutes after they began, the people on the bank stopped staring at the Hudson and started cheering for their favorite player. Factions formed, an enterprising group finding a blue scarf to wave for Illium. The idea quickly picked up steam, and soon there were five different scarves for the five players, Elena’s a distinctive hunter gold.
Had to be someone from the Guild down there, she thought with a grin.
Elena wasn’t the least surprised when a media chopper appeared in the sky, a harness-bound cameraman hanging out the side, though the crew stayed at a respectful distance. Funny how they’d been doing that since Illium made it clear that in a chopper-versus-angel fight, the chopper would come out worse. Much worse.
“Got it!” Managing to catch a throw that would’ve otherwise hit the center of the cheering crowd, she fired it high and to the left . . . where it was intercepted by an angel with eyes of splintered green and wings of icy sunlight. When he rocketed the ball toward Illium using his left hand, the blue-winged angel tumbled head over feet from the force of the powerful missile before thrusting up his hand with a grin, ball firmly in his grasp.
Elena and the other three players exchanged looks and silently retired from the game, their chests heaving as they took a seat on the edge of the nearest roof, happy to watch Aodhan and Illium showcase their extraordinary skills in the air. “Have you seen them do anything like this before?” she said to the angel beside her, an older squadron commander she’d never seen laugh before today.
“Not for two centuries.” The solemnity of his response was erased by his roar of approval when Aodhan scooped up the ball as it actually hit the water and fired it back over his shoulder without looking, his body and wings turning him into a living diamond under the piercing winter sunlight.