Archangel's Prophecy

by Nalini Singh

  “You two spent a lot of time talking.”

  “I like her. We’re going to go shopping at that new mall after Harrison is better.” Smile fading, Beth put down the tea. Her fingers trembled as she brushed her husband’s hair off his forehead.

  Harrison’s face remained too pale, his throat swathed in bandages. Elena knew Laric had stitched up the wound to hold it together. It wasn’t the standard procedure with vampires, but with Harrison being so young and his throat so badly cut, Nisia had made the unusual call and supervised Laric in its implementation. There was zero risk of Harrison healing around the stitches.

  He was recovering too slowly for that.

  “The senior healer was here a few minutes ago.” Beth tugged the finely woven blanket higher up Harrison’s body. “She said it’s going to take time, but that Harrison will wake up. I just have to be patient.” She leaned her head against Elena’s thigh. “I can be patient, Ellie. I waited all that time while Harrison was being Made. I trusted that he’d come back to me.”

  Elena ran her fingers through the rough silk of her sister’s hair. “I know you can be patient, Beth. I see how you are with Maggie.” Beth never yelled at her daughter, always spoke with a sweet gentleness. It was at those moments that Elena most saw pieces of their mother in Beth. Marguerite had never yelled at her children, either, and yet even rebellious Belle had listened when she’d spoken.

  Maggie minded Beth the same way, a piercing echo of memory and family.

  Beth looked up with a smile before putting her head back against Elena. “I’ll have to work out certain times when I can come see Harrison. I can’t sit with him twenty-four hours a day, no matter how much it hurts to leave him here. I have to look after Maggie’s heart.”

  “Harrison would agree with you. You’re the two most important people in his life.” That, too, was true; regret was an emotion with which Harrison Ling had plenty of familiarity.

  As if she’d read Elena’s thoughts, Beth said, “I know you think he was selfish in being Made, Ellie. So did I for a while, but then . . . it gives me such comfort to know that he’ll be around to look after Maggie after I’m gone.” A quiet pause filled only with the subtle sounds of the machines that monitored Harrison. “I never considered that he might go first one day.”

  Elena squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, her jaw clenched.

  She’d had nearly the same conversation with Sara. And she’d thought more than once that she’d have to watch her baby sister grow older and older while she stayed ageless. But her body was running backward, and she had wounds she couldn’t explain that wouldn’t heal. Beth might outlive both her and Harrison.

  If that happened, Elena knew her sister would deal. She might be heartbroken beyond repair, but she’d deal. Because no matter her pain, she would not abandon her child as Marguerite had abandoned them.

  “We have to live in today,” she said, speaking to herself as much as to Beth. “Worrying about the future just steals the now from us.”

  “So does living in the past, doesn’t it, Ellie?”

  Swallowing hard, Elena put her hand on Beth’s shoulder. “Yes. I’m glad you never did that.”

  “Father’s still back there, with Mama and Ari and Belle.” Such terrible sadness in Beth’s voice, so much compassion for a man who’d died when Marguerite chose to leave him behind rather than trust him to help her navigate the darkness. That old Jeffrey was buried with his wife in a cold grave she’d never wanted to inhabit.

  Elena would always be angry with her father for that, for burying Marguerite in the unforgiving earth when her mother had wanted to be cremated and scattered to the winds, so she could be part of the wind itself.

  That had been her mother, brilliant and light and always in motion.

  Yet even in her anger, she remembered the empty bottle of whiskey and a man who’d cried heartbroken sobs in the dark of the night. “I don’t think we can pull him back to the present,” she said, her voice rough. “He has to make that choice himself.”

  “I feel sad for Gwendolyn, too.” Sitting up properly, Beth took a sip of her tea, then held up the mug in a silent offer.

  Elena wasn’t much of a tea drinker, but she took the mug from her sister and had a drink before handing it back. The heat ran through her in a sweet rush. “Yes, Gwendolyn’s got no fault here.” If she’d made a mistake, it was to fall in love with a man who’d left the best part of himself in the past, but as Elena knew, love wasn’t a thing to plan or control. It just was.

  “I’m trying to figure out who’d want to hurt Harrison,” she said a while later.

  “Do you want to ask me questions?”

  “If you think you’re ready to answer them.”

  “If it’ll help protect our baby, I can manage,” Beth said softly.

  “Has anything been worrying him, or has he been afraid of someone?”

  Picking up a cake, Beth handed it to Elena. “You should eat this. Holly said the chef would be insulted if we didn’t eat his cakes.”

  “The chef” happened to be Venom, a little secret to which not many people in the Tower were privy. They just knew that, over the past couple of years, extraordinary creations occasionally appeared in the communal areas utilized by those who called the Tower home.

  Elena knew the truth only because Illium had let it slip—then sworn her to blood-oath secrecy. “Usually,” she told Beth, “I’d be lucky to get a crumb. The cakes and pastries disappear at the speed of light—then everyone sulks when the chef goes quiet for weeks or months at a time.”

  Smile a faded copy of its luminous reality, Beth took a bite of her own cake and chewed, swallowed, before saying, “Harrison hasn’t really said anything, but I know my husband. Something’s been on his mind the past couple of days.” She paused and took a drink before continuing. “I used to never ask him things, but that changed after Maggie.

  “I want to know how to look after her if anything happens to Harrison. I want to know how to access our money—and I want to know if there’s a danger that could hurt her.” Anger in those last words, though the look she sent her wounded husband’s way still held more love and worry than anything else.

  Elena looked down at the top of Beth’s head; she’d been foolish to think Beth would be in the dark about Harrison’s secrets. She should’ve remembered her own thoughts about how motherhood had changed her sister. “What did he say when you asked him what was bothering him?”

  “I never got the chance with his work shifts and my volunteer work with the suicide hotline.” White grooves bracketed her mouth. “I planned to do it today, after I got back with Maggie and she was snuggled up for naptime.” Putting down her half-eaten cake, she said, “But this morning, before Maggie ran in for breakfast, he said, ‘Baby, what if I did an innocent thing once and it ended up hurting someone? Would it be my fault?’”

  Elena’s gaze lingered on the brutal slashes on either side of Harrison’s mouth, the mutilation that further linked this assault to the murders in the Quarter. “What did you say?”

  “Maggie ‘attacked’ him before I could answer. She was pretending to be a lion, and he growled back and started playing with her.” She sighed, sorrow in her touch as she smoothed back Harrison’s hair once more. “He had to leave for his angel’s home ten minutes later, but he was only on for half a shift today. Just a few hours, I thought. We could talk after.” Her voice broke.

  * * *

  • • •

  It was six by the time Beth left the infirmary. Jeffrey picked her up. Gwendolyn was in the passenger seat of the dark sedan and got out to hug Beth. Raven haired, with eyes of dark blue and rich cream skin over bone structure that shouted her high-society lineage, she was an elegant beauty two decades Jeffrey’s junior.

  “Let’s get you home,” she murmured to Beth, and settled her in the car, then smiled at Elena. “Thank you for bei
ng so good with Eve. She felt so much better because you told her she did the right thing.”

  “I have tough little sisters.”

  Another smile before Gwendolyn got into the car. Shutting her door, Jeffrey nodded at Elena and went to get into the driver’s seat . . . only to turn without warning and come wrap her in a furiously tight embrace. Elena’s arms went around him almost by instinct, buried childhood memories rising to the fore as the smell of his aftershave mingled with the wool of his coat.

  Neither one of them spoke.

  It was over seconds later, and he was gone.

  Elena.

  She glanced up at the sound of Raphael’s voice to see him looking down at her from a high Tower balcony. Heart in a vise, she said, He’s afraid. It came out a whisper, the rapid beat of her father’s heart yet imprinted on her skin. He only has two of Marguerite’s daughters left now, and he can’t bear losing us, too. It was the very force of her father’s need to keep her safe that made Jeffrey so angry with her . . . with the daughter whose profession and life put her in danger on a regular basis.

  Wings glinting white-gold against the night, Raphael soared down to land beside her. His eyes were flames of a blue so pure, it pierced her to the core. “Raphael.” She brushed her fingers over his cheek. “You can’t put me in a steel box as Jeffrey can’t wrap me up in cotton wool.”

  Her archangel, his face harsh and beautiful, ran his fingers firmly over the arch of her wing. “How is your strength?”

  “Good.” She’d had a full pre-dinner meal with Beth, astonishing her sister with how much she could put away. “Nisia’s cleared me for flight. No further degeneration since the first round of tests, so her magic drink must be helping.”

  Putting his hands on her waist, Raphael said, “I have to return to the sinkhole.” No smile, no hint of softness. “Then I must fly deep into the territory.”

  The fear of losing him to his power, it bit at her. Focusing on how he held her, how he felt like her Raphael no matter what, she said, “Has something happened?”

  “The sentries have reported changes in the movement of the lava, and I’m receiving reports of geothermal activity in a slightly distant region not known for it.”

  “Ashwini’s volcano?”

  “Let us hope not.”

  “Be careful.” She watched the wind riffle through the midnight strands of his hair. “Did Alexander want help?”

  “This storm has passed for the time being, but we will be shipping over winter supplies to be used should another one hit.” He gripped her jaw. “You will not come with me?”

  Haunted by memories of three cold graves and a small hand clutching tightly at her own, she fought her gnawing need to cling to him. As he couldn’t box her up and put her in a safe place, she couldn’t stop his development. All she could do was love him and hope he’d remember her no matter how the Cascade changed him. “I need to get to the bottom of the attack on Harrison, neutralize the threat to Beth and Maggie.”

  Tightening his grip on her waist, Raphael lifted off. You will land the instant you sense trouble with your wings.

  “I will,” she promised.

  A hard kiss that burned with archangelic strength and had her wrapping her arms around his neck as she fought to assuage both her desperate need and his. They spun against the starlit sky, and when they parted, it was with heaving chests and dilated eyes. “I love you, Raphael.”

  “Knhebek, hbeebti,” he said in return . . . and then he let her go, this being of excruciating power who understood that her mortal heart would wither and die in a cage.

  She turned to watch him fly away from her and saw wings of white fire. Of an archangel who was becoming . . . more.

  18

  Elena touched her gloved fingers to her lips, remembering his kiss. Her Raphael’s kiss. Then she turned in the direction of Beth’s home. When her head throbbed, she took stock, but it was nothing, just a passing pulse. Probably a stress headache. It wasn’t like she didn’t have cause.

  Once in Beth’s neighborhood, she did slow and wide glides in the air as she considered how things currently stood. The Tower forensic team had processed the entire scene and locked up the house using the key Jeffrey had provided. Both the front door and the—repaired—back door had been discreetly rigged to show evidence of any unauthorized entry.

  Elena didn’t think the assailant would return—not unless he had firm evidence Harrison, Beth, and Maggie were back in residence. It wasn’t coincidence that he’d attacked Harrison first. No—her face stiffened—the unknown intruder had wanted to terrorize Harrison by promising to murder Beth and Maggie.

  That didn’t mean the threat was a toothless one, especially since Harrison had survived the attempt on his life. Anyone angry or motivated enough to break into a vampire’s home to slit his throat wouldn’t hesitate to get at the target by harming his family.

  The fruit of Harrison’s innocent act that had harmed someone? Possible. Also possible was a drug connection, or another illegal business enterprise. Harrison had always thought himself smarter than others—the reason why he’d once tried to escape his Contract.

  Elena was the hunter who’d hauled him back.

  That had been just great for family relations.

  Deciding on a course of action, she landed. It felt far too good. Her muscles had begun to strain and quiver. As if she were a fledgling barely used to flight. And fuck she was hungry again. After gulping down Nisia’s mixture, she grabbed a chocolate bar from a pocket where she’d stashed it.

  She was halfway through it when her phone rang. “Sara,” she said through a mouthful of pure dark chocolate. “Sorry I didn’t reply to your message.” It had come in while she’d been with Nisia.

  “Forget that—Ransom said he saw pretty senior Tower vampires at Beth’s house. Is she all right? Maggie?”

  Elena gave Sara the details. “I’m about to start knocking on neighbors’ doors, see if anyone heard anything.” As a mortal-born angel, she’d get a better reaction than the people she might’ve asked for help—Izzy was adorable and sweet but not practiced at this type of task, and the more experienced Tower vampires and angels tended to scare people. As for her mortal hunter friends, Elena tried not to pull them into immortal problems if at all possible.

  Humans had a way of ending up hurt or dead once in the immortal world.

  “Shit, I should’ve asked Honor.” Dmitri’s wife wasn’t only highly capable at gathering intel, she was handy in a fight, and had only been a vampire a short time. Most people didn’t even realize she wasn’t human.

  “She’s out with the advance team prepping the training site for Eve’s group, remember?” Sara said.

  Elena rubbed her forehead with her fingers. “I did know that.” It had simply become lost in the mess of memories and worries in her head. “Did you approach anyone on your Slayer shortlist?” Good thing Sara had rejected her as a choice—the way things were going, Elena wouldn’t be able to chase a ninety-year-old escapee from a rest home, much less a hunter gone bad.

  “No,” Sara answered. “I realized we both forgot about one person who’d be perfect—probably because we hate the thought of him walking alone.” A sigh. “Archer was unusual in being a family man. Most Slayers are single. And I have a highly intelligent hunter who’s both single and not easy to anger. Like Archer, he wouldn’t act without thought, wouldn’t be vulnerable to psychological games.”

  “Hell, Sara.” Elena blew a white cloud visible against the night. “You’re talking about Demarco.” Cheerfully good-natured Demarco, who liked to tease her by wearing a Hunter Angel T-shirt, but who fought like a demon.

  “It’ll ruin him.” Sara’s tone was weighted with the dark responsibility of her task. “I need more time to make sure I’m not making the wrong call.”

  Because if Sara asked, Demarco wouldn’t say no. He’d step into t
he breach, the courageous idiot. The possibility of losing a friend to the darkness was too much on top of her failing wings, Raphael evolving further and further from her, the ghost owls, all the crazy shit. “Why do we have to have a sole Slayer anyway? Who made that stupid rule? Why not a team?” Friends and comrades could get you through a hell of a lot.

  Sara was quiet for a long moment. Elena took that time to tear off the last hunks of her chocolate bar. Imani had it right: change sucked. Even her beloved Guild was in turmoil.

  “You know,” her best friend murmured at last, “I don’t know the reasoning behind having a single designated Slayer.” Intrigue in Sara’s tone now, pushing aside the heaviness. “I’m going to do some research. Good luck with the door-to-door.”

  “I’ll need it.” She allowed herself a small, fierce smile. She might not be able to feel her wing muscles, but maybe she’d saved Demarco and future Slayers from a lonely life in the shadows.

  A small win, but she’d take it.

  The next hour was full of failure.

  Beth’s neighbors were all home now. However, most hadn’t been around during the incident, and the ones who had been had seen nothing suspicious. Wings tugging heavily at her back and frustration mounting, she was about to write off the entire thing as a colossal waste of time when she walked around the block to knock on the door of the property situated directly behind Beth and Harrison’s home.

  It proved to have a full security system, cameras included. Better yet, that system had been on at the time of the assault on Harrison. Her skin prickled, her heart kicking. The camera, contingent on its angle, could’ve caught the assailant’s rushed exit.

  “Would you be willing to give me the footage?” Elena asked the middle-aged man who’d answered the door; his hair stuck up in black tufts, the eyes behind his round lenses a rich shade of brown, and his unlined skin two or three shades darker.