She’d returned Elena’s fierce hug after the funerals, murmuring, “Don’t be so sad, Ellie. Your sisters aren’t trapped in that house; they’re flying on their own wings.”
Elena couldn’t explain how Ash knew that the funerals had brought back visceral memories of the deaths of her own sisters, or how she knew about the horror that had taken them, but Elena held the other woman’s words close to her heart. Ash had always glimpsed more than anyone should, seen beyond this world. If she said Ariel and Mirabelle were no longer imprisoned in the blood-soaked house that had once been their childhood home, then Elena could do nothing but believe it.
Raphael slid his arm around her waist. “I feel your sorrow.”
“Just working through stuff,” she said, her emotions heavy but not agonizing. “Thinking about how some people are so kind and generous, others the opposite.” Not many would’ve reached out across their own grief to ease that of another, as Ash had done for her, and it was a kindness Elena would never forget. “The world would be a better place if we could erase all the Corneliuses and Giorgios from it.”
“I’ve lived long enough to understand that there will always be some ugliness in the world.” Raphael stroked a tendril of hair that had escaped her braid back behind her ear. “We cannot erase it, for it acts as the foil for joy, for goodness.”
“I guess I’m not old enough to accept that yet.” It didn’t matter that Cornelius and Giorgio were currently serving out their brutal and ongoing punishments in distant underground bunkers. “I feel so much fury for the pain caused, the scars left on the hearts of good people.”
“Never lose that part of yourself, Elena.” Raphael’s eyes held a lick of wildfire in their depths that spoke of the changes going on inside him. “Before you, I had become jaded, unable to see the light or the dark. It is not an existence to which anyone should aspire.”
Rubbing her cheek against his hand, she said to hell with shocking their guest should he step outside and drew her archangel down for a kiss. “To life.”
“To life, hbeebti.”
• • •
Ashwini sat with her legs hanging off the edge of the Tower roof, watching the revelers on the rooftops around them and in the streets far below. Music came from every side, merging and mixing and becoming a wild, vibrant melody. Wings passed overhead, the area a sea of angels landing on roofs and on the tarmac as they joined in the celebration in different areas.
Illium flew down to the under-renovation Legion building right then, the silver in his wings shimmering in the lights beaming out of the Tower. The Legion fighters were, for the most part, sitting in crouched positions on different parts of the Tower. Ashwini hadn’t yet figured out if they were bemused by the entire thing or fascinated.
A male head was suddenly in her lap, hair of liquid silver on the black of her jeans.
“You’ll fall,” she said to Naasir, petting his hair as she knew he wanted.
“No, I won’t,” he said easily, staying stretched out on the edge. “I came to see you. I never had any brothers or sisters, but I would be angry and sad if something happened to my people . . . like it did to Aodhan once.” Silver eyes held her own. “I’ll fight with you if you want.”
The offer, she knew, was genuine. He’d allow her to cut him up if it would make her feel better. Because she was one of Naasir’s people now. As he was part of her family. Affection had her pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Thank you, but I think I’m okay,” she said through her lingering sorrow at Tanu and Arvi’s loss.
Knowing that they had wanted to go didn’t change the hole in her heart, didn’t make it any less painful to accept the fact that she’d never again witness Tanu’s acerbic wit or hear Arvi’s voice. What did help were the people around her. Like the wild creature in her lap and the hunters who were the family she’d created. They’d stood shoulder to shoulder with her as she laid her siblings to rest, done a thousand small things to make it more bearable.
And Janvier . . . he’d been her rock throughout, solid, protective, and unwavering. She didn’t know how she would continue to function, to exist, if anything ever happened to him, and in that agony of thought, she’d finally understood his own stubborn refusal to stay after she was gone. That didn’t mean she planned to accept it. He had a wild, beautiful, adventurous eternity ahead of him and she’d fight to make sure he claimed it.
“This is a fun party,” Naasir said into the lazy quiet between them, the repetitive motion of stroking the cool silver of his hair having relaxed her as much as it had him. “I think Ellie should be in charge of all immortal parties.”
Ashwini laughed at the idea of Ellie let loose on stuffy angelic balls. “Go have some of that fun,” she urged him, conscious he was returning to Amanat in twenty-four hours. She’d miss him, might have to bag herself a hunt in Japan so she could swing by for a visit. “I saw the pretty little angel with the auburn hair giving you the eye earlier. She’s over there trying to scorch me to a crisp with her mind, if you want to go soothe her feelings.”
“No,” Naasir said definitively. “I want a mate and I’ve decided to go hunting for her. The little angel didn’t smell like her.”
Ashwini felt a twinge of sympathy for all the smitten women he’d be smelling and rejecting until he found his mate. “You realize it can take time? You can’t force it.”
Eyes closing under her continued petting, he made a rumbling sound in his chest. “A mate would do this for me.”
Her lips quirked. “Yes. Or you might do it for her.”
Eyes flicking up, Naasir grinned, his fangs flashing in the light. “Does Janvier pet you?”
She pulled at his nose.
He laughed and, bending one leg at the knee, closed his eyes again, the silver fan of his lashes vivid against the rich brown of his skin, the undertone a gorgeous, warm gold. At that instant, she almost imagined she saw faint stripes underneath. Startled, she stared . . . to see his usual skin. Strokable enough to have women begging to touch him, but otherwise normal for Naasir.
Clearly, Ellie’s “tiger creature” theory was starting to affect her subconscious.
“Where’s Janvier?”
“Catching up with friends.” Those bonds were important to them both. “Why have you suddenly decided you want a mate?”
Naasir stretched lazily before settling back into his previous position. “I’m old enough now, and I want someone to play with like you play with Janvier and Raphael does with Elena. Even Dmitri plays with Honor.” This seemed to fascinate him. “The rules are secret in each game. I want to have secret rules with a woman who . . .” A long pause. “A woman who knows me, understands what I am, and who wants to have secret rules with me.”
It was a very Naasir definition of love and it was wonderful. “I think your mate will be a lucky woman.”
Naasir’s gaze was oddly solemn when he lifted his lashes. “I’m different, Ash. Deep inside. I’ll never be like other men.”
“I’m different, too,” she whispered. “Janvier loves me exactly as I am.” As she did him, stubborn Cajun will or not.
• • •
Elena took a seat beside Izak where the injured angel lay propped up in a bed next to a large window that gave him a great view of the partiers on the roof to the left, as well as of the angels flying back and forth. “I brought you something.” She lifted the saucer holding a piece of cake. “Red velvet with cream cheese icing.”
Izak’s smile was shy. “My arms . . .”
“You have me.” She scooped up a bite of cake, using the fork she’d brought with her, and fed it to him, aware of the fact his body had prioritized the healing of his skull and his spinal cord over broken bones. “So?”
Swallowing, he said, “How did you know it was my favorite?”
“I know everything. I also know Montgomery.”
He laughed, and it was a br
illiant sound, the light back in his eyes. “You shouldn’t be taking care of me. I’m going to be in your Guard.”
“Who made that rule?” Feeding him another small bite, she said, “Way I hear it from Hannah—who, as you pointed out in your pitch, already has a Guard and is thus an expert—while my Guard is meant to be my shield if necessary, I’m also meant to ensure they have what they need. Right now, you need cake.”
The young angel grinned this time. He truly was adorable. It was going to be difficult for her to treat him as a warrior, but she figured she’d just handle him as a hunter in training until he grew up a little more. “I smuggled in something else for you.” Glancing around to make sure the healers weren’t paying any attention to them, she took out a small bottle from the ankle sheath that usually held a gun.
Opening it, she slid in a straw she’d concealed down the side of a knife sheath and held the drink to his lips. “Sip,” she ordered before he could take a long draw. “It’s Illium’s secret recipe and it’s lethal.”
Eyes brightening, he took a drink and went, “Whoa.”
“Yeah, that’s what I said. Lots of angels drinking and flying today—I hope none of them fall into the Hudson.”
Izak laughed. “Alcohol wears off very fast in angelic bodies. I don’t think it has any effect on angels as old as Aodhan and Illium.”
“No wonder he makes it so strong.” She cut Izak off when he became a touch too smiley. “Let’s wait for it to wear off on you before you have the rest.” Baby that he was, half a bottle was clearly plenty for Izzy.
“Janvier told me Titus is here.”
Elena leaned in close. “You didn’t hear it from me,” she whispered, “but last I saw, Titus was carousing in the street, kissing a different willing woman every five minutes.” More than one human was going to wake up the next day with a surreal memory she’d probably put down to too many shots. “And—Hmm, I’m not sure I should be saying this to such tender ears . . .”
“What?” His eyes went huge. “I want to know.”
Far too adorable. It was ridiculous. “Well,” she said in a conspiratorial tone, “I’m pretty sure there are shenanigans going on high in the sky tonight.” Anyone who had a telescope pointed up toward the stars might just get an eyeful.
“People are dancing?” A small pout. “I want to be outside.”
Shoulders shaking, because he was clearly still feeling the effects of Illium’s concoction, she patted his face. “You’ll have plenty of opportunities to seduce and be seduced, Izzy.”
“Can I have more cake?”
She fed the remaining half to him. His eyes were starting to flutter shut by the end, and when she rose to her feet, he was in a peaceful sleep. Pressing a kiss to his cheek, she glanced at the doorway to see Keir exchanging an intimate look with a heavily muscled male warrior. The warrior angel’s hand was curved around the side of Keir’s neck, his head bent toward Keir’s shorter and more slender form. Whatever he said made the healer laugh before he slipped out of the warrior’s hold and into the infirmary.
Seeing Elena, he came over. “You look puzzled, Ellie.”
“I am. Last time I saw you with anyone”—back in the Refuge—“it was a woman.” And he, without a doubt, had stubble burn on the dusky skin of his throat right now. Which meant he’d been getting frisky only seconds before she saw him; Keir was too old for the mark not to have faded otherwise.
Smile gentle, he said, “I have been alive thousands of years, have learned that love does not always wear a single face.” A warmth in his eyes. “Ah, but it will for you, will it not?”
“Yes.” Raphael was her heart, would always be her heart. “So, you’re a player?” She sighed. “All this time, I thought you were a nice guy. I introduced you to my single friends, like that sweet squadron leader.”
His laugh soft, he allowed his wing to brush hers. “If I could find what you have with Raphael, I would stop playing. Until then, I will share pleasure with smaller loves—perhaps even your rather lovely squadron leader.” Reaching down to tug a blanket over Izzy, he said, “The boy is doing well. I think he is even more in love with you, however.”
“A little cake and punch and everybody loves me.” Leaving him with a kiss on his cheek, she went to talk to an angel who was down with severed legs, but was able to sit up on her own. She had a drink in her hand and a plate of goodies on the table next to her. “This celebration was a wonderful idea, Ellie.”
Before the battle, none of the squadron but Izak had called her Ellie. It was a welcome change. “How are the legs?” she said, able to ask as she could a fellow hunter.
“It hurts, but the injuries are healing faster than anticipated.” The woman’s dark eyes went to where Raphael was speaking with two other wounded fighters, one an angel, the other a vampire. “The sire is responsible for that.”
Elena didn’t nod, didn’t need to. Raphael’s ability to heal remained nascent, but it was shaving days, sometimes weeks off the recovery time of the injured. According to Keir, what Raphael was doing wasn’t healing as he knew it. Keir’s current theory was that Raphael was sharing power.
Lijuan, Elena thought, shared death. Raphael shared life.
His eyes met hers across the width of the room at that instant, and she saw pride burning in his gaze, the same pride that filled her veins. For their people, who had survived the unimaginable with their spirits intact; for their city, that had stood strong against an unprovoked attack. There was no need for either of them to articulate that. They saw and understood each other in a way few people ever did, mortal or immortal.
For her, love would only ever have a single face, and it was his.
44
Janvier tracked Keir down three hours into the party. Catching the healer’s eye, he ducked out into a small room off the corridor.
This, what he had to ask, it was a private thing, an important thing.
“Janvier.” Keir’s wings made a whisper of sound in the doorway. “I am glad to see you are not dead yet.”
Janvier tried to smile at the old joke, but the urgency of what he had to ask tore at him too desperately to allow for levity.
Keir’s expression altered, wise eyes in an ageless face turning solemn. “What is it?”
“You can’t speak about it to anyone else.”
“I will not.” It was the oath of a healer. “Not even should the Cadre ask.”
Hope a white-hot flame inside him, he said, “It’s about Ash.”
• • •
Ashwini felt a prickle on the back of her neck that told her Janvier was near, even before Honor said, “Here comes your Cajun.” A shoulder nudge from her best friend, the two of them having spent the past half hour talking. “I’m off to debauch my deliciously sexy husband—you should do the same with Janvier.”
Janvier slid down beside her as Honor left; his thigh pressed against hers, strong and warm, the city spread out below them.
“I thought you went to catch up with your friends from out of town.” He’d brought her a cocktail earlier, danced with her on the roof, then slipped away while she chatted with Honor. Naasir had prowled off before that, in full mate-hunting mode.
“I was speaking to Keir.”
“I didn’t realize you two were friends.”
Janvier took her hand, his expression unexpectedly serious. “I’m going to tell you something, cher, and I want you to listen. Don’t dismiss it out of hand. Promise me.”
A tremor shook her on the inside, incited by the fear that he’d ask her to embrace vampirism after all, but her trust in him was stronger than her dread of endless madness. “I promise.”
Leaning forward with his forearms braced on his thighs and his eyes on the angels flying over the city, he said, “I know why you don’t want to become a vampire. An illness of the mind can last centuries for those of my kind.”
Relief rained over her senses. “I could live millennia as a broken shadow.” It was her worst nightmare.
“There’s Dmitri,” he said in an apparent non sequitur. “Do you see him?”
Glancing over her shoulder, she smiled. “Yes, he’s dancing with Honor.” The dark, dangerous vampire was whispering things in Honor’s ear as the two of them swayed to a slow and sensual ballad.
“Keir knew him when he first became a vampire,” Janvier said, “and now a thousand years later, he says that while Dmitri has changed physically, it is in strength and a refining of his features. He hasn’t truly aged.”
Ashwini frowned. “Vampirism doesn’t stop time.”
“No, but it slows it down to an insect’s crawl. Every aspect of aging slows down—including changes in the brain.” His hand squeezed hers. “Keir has seen this in the brains of vampires who have died in accidents or battles. Tumors and fragile blood vessels, among other things, both of which are mortal ailments the centuries-old fallen must’ve had before embracing near-immortality—because in the normal course of things, with no strange archangelic powers in the mix, vampires don’t get sick.”
Ashwini wanted to grab on to hope, desperate for a lifetime with him, but there was one problem. “Vampires go insane just like mortals.”
“Yes,” Janvier agreed, his voice fierce, “but not from an organic cause. The degeneration is psychological, as with Giorgio. He isn’t insane, but he would’ve been, given enough time, and it had nothing to do with his brain.”
No, Ashwini thought, it had to do with a breakdown in his conscience. She had no fear of that happening to her—not with Janvier acting as her balance, and her acting as his. “Could Keir give us any kind of a timeline?”
Bayou green eyes slammed into her own. “A single human year could equal a thousand years as a vampire. A month could mean a hundred years or more.”
Archangel's Shadows (Guild Hunter series Book 7) Page 37