Archangel's Legion gh-6

by Nalini Singh

  A lump of emotion in her throat, Elena rose to her full height, topping Keir by several inches. “I’m their conduit to Raphael.” She hadn’t understood until this instant that the general fighting troops had the same awe of Raphael as many mortals. Even among angelkind, an archangel was a being to be feared and respected.

  Dmitri, Aodhan, Galen, Illium, all of the Seven, they were only a rung below the Cadre as far as the troops were concerned. The fighters would go to any one of them without hesitation when it came to issues to do with the Tower’s defenses, but would never think to bother them with anything else. “I’m meant to be the one who looks below the formal, structured surface and to the individuals beneath.” The one who kept her finger on the living heartbeat of the Tower, made certain people were happy.

  “You feel foolish that it has taken you until now to apprehend this.”

  “Someone couldn’t have clued me in?” Not that she would’ve known what to do—she didn’t now—but at least she would’ve tried. “It’s been months!”

  Keir’s frown was a silent rebuke. “No one expected you to take up these responsibilities for years, if not decades, yet. You are a young consort; it is understood that you have much to learn . . . but the trauma of the past days has altered that timeline.” Shadows heavy on the fine bones of his face, his tone holding a haunting sadness.

  “I don’t know how to do this.” It was a confession torn out of her soul. “Not long ago, I told Aodhan to take risks, but God, Keir, I think I’m at my limit. I’m not sure my heart is big enough to encompass thousands.” Some of whom would inevitably die in battle. The pain of the loss wouldn’t be a distant, manageable one if she knew their names, their dreams, their hopes. Each death would be a kick directly to her battered heart. “I’ve lost too many people already.”

  “Courage, Elena.” Brushing his fingertips over her cheek, he led her back to the infirmary. “Of that I know you have an imprudent amount.”

  It took all of her courage to visit the one person in the infirmary she’d avoided till the last possible moment. “Izzy.” The young blond angel, his curls having been shaved off to reveal his fractured skull, had a sweet crush on her. Even so badly hurt that she couldn’t believe he was awake and aware, his brutalized face glowed when she took a seat by his bedside.

  It was impossible to do anything but smile back, he was so adorable in his devotion.

  “I thought you forgot me.” Shy words, his cheeks going pink as she flirted with him in an effort to take his mind off the excruciating pain of his injuries.

  “Our bodies are capable of healing the most horrific wounds,” Keir had said, “but the cost is pain. No drug to numb pain will work on angelic bodies, though we’ve tried to find such for centuries upon centuries. I, too, can only soften the hurt, not eliminate it, and while the babes and the ones over three or four hundred can be placed under for a long duration, the younger adults wake constantly and thus are too often conscious.”

  Fifteen minutes later, she was careful not to accidentally cause Izak any further hurt when she pressed a kiss to the single unbroken patch of his face. “Rest, heal. I’ll come by again soon.” Maybe she was scared at what was being asked of her, but if Izak could smile through his agony, she’d damn well find the guts to be what he needed her to be.

  “When you create your guard,” he said abruptly as she turned to leave, “will you at least consider me?” Eyes huge with entreaty. “I know I’m young and I don’t mind having the least—”

  “Wait.” She tilted her head to the side. “You know I don’t have bodyguards.” It had taken more than one drag-down fight with Raphael to carve that rule into stone, and Elena had no intention of altering that fact.

  “No, not guards. A Guard.”

  This time, Elena heard the capital G.

  “Like Raphael’s Seven,” Izak continued, aching hope in his expression. “You’re a consort. Elijah’s consort has a Guard.”

  Elena didn’t know what she would do with a Guard, but saying no to this fragile, broken, hopeful boy was out of the question. “Consider yourself the first member.”

  His smile lit up the whole room.

  * * *

  It was well after nightfall when she left the infirmary and went up several floors to find Raphael ensconced in a strategy session with his Seven, those not physically in the city having called in on visual feeds. She could’ve gone in, taken a seat, and listened, but she needed to clear her head after the intense emotional strain of the past day.

  Digging out her cell phone, she messaged her best friend. The munchkin asleep?

  Snoring like a champ. Want to come over for coffee?

  I won’t interrupt you and your love bunny?

  My love bunny has abandoned me for his workshop. He’s making some super-special nifty weapon for another woman. Good thing I love you or I’d have to kill you.

  A smile breaking through the sadness and anger inside her, she sent a message to Raphael’s phone instead of interrupting his thoughts, then flew to Sara’s. The last time she’d been by, the roof had been a construction site, but today, her best friend waved at her from the now flat surface, two steaming mugs and a baby monitor sitting on the battered wooden coffee table in front of an equally battered sofa.

  “Nice,” Elena said, taking in the currently empty planters set in the corners, the wall around the roof high enough that Zoe could play here without any risk she’d fall.

  “You’ll have to help me pick out some plants in the summer.” Sara held up a mug of coffee and, when Elena took it with a sigh, patted the sofa next to her. “No proper furniture yet, so your wings will be a bit squished.”

  “It’s actually so soft, it’s not bad.” Sinking in, Elena propped up her boots on the coffee table, taking care not to jiggle the monitor. “How’s Darrell?”

  “Messed up.” Sara brought up her legs to sit cross-legged, her hands cupped around her mug, her skin a rich, smooth brown against the white ceramic. “But I think he’ll be okay. You and Ransom got to him in time.”

  They sat in comfortable silence for several minutes, their eyes on the stars above, the sky holding the sharp clarity of the coldest of nights, their breath frosting the air. When they did talk, they meandered from topic to topic, their friendship old enough that they could skip from their worry about the predicted archangelic hostilities to a discussion on Sara’s side-swept bangs to bursting out laughing when they both muttered, “Men,” at the same time.

  Then Sara, having curled up against the arm of the sofa, poked at Elena’s thigh with a sock-clad foot. “Stop it.”

  Startled by the burst of inexplicable anger, Elena stared. “What?”

  “Stop thinking about what’ll happen when I’m gone.” It was an arrow to the heart. “You ever think about the fact that maybe I’ll have to watch you die?”

  “I’m becoming immor—”

  Her friend snorted. “Since when has the immortal world been a happy-happy-let’s-hold-hands-and-sing-‘Kumbaya’ kind of a place, huh? Weren’t we just discussing a war, genius?”

  Mouth dropping open, Elena blinked and realized Sara was right. Her life was no less dangerous now than it had been during her time as a hunter. In fact, it could be argued she swam in far deadlier waters as Raphael’s consort. “Well, damn.”

  “Exactly. So don’t let me see that look in your eyes again.” Sara clicked her mug to Elena’s. “You know what I’ve learned from my baby girl? To enjoy the now. It’ll be gone soon enough, and no one knows what the next hour, much less tomorrow, will bring.”

  Elena decided she should engrave those words on her brain, saying as much to Raphael two hours later as they lay skin to skin in their Enclave bedroom. He’d come to her with a grim look in his eyes and battle plans on his mind, his touch so tender, tears had wet her cheeks. “That was a pretty wonderful now,” she whispered afterward.

  “Yes.” A deep masculine murmur.

  Her head on his chest, she soaked in his warmth, knowin
g they were lucky to have these hours together, possible only because of his trust in his Seven. Word had come from Jason that the other members of the Cadre were currently confirmed as being in their territories, which gave New York some breathing room.

  “I visited the injured,” she said, knowing the respite was a temporary one—like Raphael, she didn’t believe in coincidences, especially a coincidence that brought death to angels and vampires alike. “I managed to speak to everyone who was conscious.”

  “I know.” His hand fisted in her hair. “You acted as a consort should, despite the cost. I’m proud of you, hbeebti.”

  Chest tight at the simple acknowledgment, she ran her foot over his shin. “I also seem to have acquired the start of a Guard.”

  “Oh? Who have you chosen?”

  “Izzy,” she said, and told him how it had happened.

  Raphael laughed. “I will, of course, have to throw the boy into training with the toughest men in my employ as soon as he has recovered. He may regret volunteering.”

  “I don’t actually expect him to do for me what the Seven do for you.”

  “Would you dent his pride?”

  Elena sighed, having the sinking feeling she’d inadvertently ended up with a real Guard. “How was I supposed to say no to someone that adorable?” She lifted her head to scowl at her lover. “It’d have been like kicking a puppy then stomping on his heart.”

  Raphael folded one arm behind his head, his biceps flexing. “He’s not as much a babe as you believe.”

  “No?” Leaning in, she grazed her teeth over the firm muscle.

  His fingers curved over her bare breast in return, neither one of them in any hurry. “Izak’s been in training with Galen since he was younger than Sam.”

  Galen with babies? “Impossible,” she said, even as she recalled Hannah pointing out the opposite in the painting downstairs. “Galen eating babies I can understand, but training them?”

  Open amusement. “I think you miss our weapons-master.”

  “Ha-ha.”

  That got her a long, lazy kiss, their tongues licking against each other, his thigh pushing possessively between her own. “When Galen was first courting Jessamy,” Raphael said with a brush of his thumb over her nipple when their lips parted, “he began to teach flight skills to the little ones. Over time, it has become a tradition—Galen is always the one who gives basic flight instruction to the babes, and some, like Izak, never stop training with him.”

  The idea of Galen, with his wings akin to a northern harrier’s, leading a squadron of babies—not all of whom could fly exactly straight—had Elena shaking her head. “I’m sorry, I need to see to believe this. It’s like you just told me the sky turns purple every Wednesday.”

  Sensual laughter twining around her, Raphael’s mood no longer black. “For his age, Izak is exceptional. In comparison to older fighters, he has much to learn, part of the reason Galen organized a Tower placement.”

  “So he could study under more experienced men.” It was similar to what the Guild did, pairing up a neophyte hunter with an experienced one for the first year after graduation.

  Raphael nodded. “Izak may be comparatively weak at present, but he’ll grow with you and so will the bond between you.” His eyes closed when she reached out to stroke the most sensitive part of his right wing, her damp flesh rubbing against the hard muscle of his thigh. “Aodhan was a stripling, Illium even younger, when I accepted them into what became my Seven.”

  She was leaning in to kiss him again when his eyes snapped open, languid relaxation erased by cold-eyed focus in a single heartbeat. “Keir is on his way to see us.”

  Elena thought of the decomposing vampire found in that house now burned to the ground, the wounded angels in the infirmary, the five carried to the Refuge on flower-covered biers, and knew the news could be nothing good.

  12

  Looking out toward the glittering mirage of Manhattan from their balcony a couple of minutes later, she saw the dark shadow of wings over the Hudson. “Is Illium providing escort?” Even with the wild blue and shimmering silver lost to the night, the angel had a distinctive style of flight.

  “I’ve ordered that no one fly alone at night—or should they be heading into an isolated area.” A hard glance. “That applies to my consort, too. You left the Tower tonight before I could speak to you about it.”

  “No arguments here.” Tugging at the belt of her robe, she said, “I should put on proper clothes.”

  “This’ll do.” Raphael, dressed in jeans and a white T-shirt, ran his knuckles down the side of her face. “Keir is one of the few men whom I will allow to see my consort naked of her armor.”

  Because, Elena thought, the healer had seen every part of her broken body—and he’d helped bring her back.

  “As for your Bluebell, his heart is already yours.”

  Her fingers clenched on the belt. “Raphael, he’s not truly . . . not that way, is he?” She couldn’t bear to hurt Illium.

  “I think,” Raphael said, as the night wind brought with it the whispering promise of snow, “Illium needs to heal and you are safe.”

  Elena rubbed her face. “I hope that’s all it is.” Regardless, she did change into jeans and a simple green-and-white-checked shirt, Raphael doing up the buttons on the wing slits for her before they walked down to open the library doors and step out onto the lawn.

  The two angels made a quiet landing a minute later.

  Keir’s face was solemn, his face showing a strain Elena had never before seen on him, certainly not when she’d left the infirmary earlier that night. Gut twisting, she took his arm and led him inside to find the fire lit and the table by the windows set with coffee and tea, as well as a tray of fruit, nuts, and a rich, creamy cheese. Crackers lay neatly on a different platter, alongside a thin flatbread flavored with herbs.

  Thank God for Montgomery.

  Nudging Keir into an armchair in front of the crackling flames, she poured the healer the tea she knew he liked, as Illium fixed him a plate. “You have to eat,” she said, when he would’ve waved off the food.

  Expression drained, eyes devoid of their natural warmth, he didn’t respond.

  Elena wasn’t ready to admit defeat. Taking the plate from Illium after setting the tea on the little side table beside the healer, she nodded at the blue-winged angel to go speak to Raphael, while she took a seat in the armchair opposite Keir. Putting a piece of cheese on a cracker, she held it out. “Please, Keir.”

  Gaze flicking to her, he took the morsel. “So, the patient looks after the healer.”

  “The patient knows that if she gets herself damaged again, she’s going to need you, so it’s self-serving.”

  A glimmer of light in his expression. “And if I don’t eat?”

  “This healer once told me I had the unbreakable will of a mule.” It had been a compliment, Keir’s delight at her progress unhidden.

  His beautiful lips curved slightly at last and he ate the cracker, took the next one. She managed to get that and some flatbread into him, as well as a peach she sliced into pieces. “You did this for me once, remember? When I was bored and grumpy after you told me I had to stay in bed.” It had been in the aftermath of Lijuan’s ball. “Stupid balls. They should be banned.”

  Soft laughter, the peach eaten quarter by quarter while Illium and Raphael stood at Raphael’s desk, talking quietly about the ongoing holes in their defensive line. The firelight glinted off the white-gold of Raphael’s feathers, and since he was right next to Illium, the filaments of silver in Bluebell’s wings also catching the light, the difference in effect was crystalline.

  “White fire.” Keir’s intrigued expression told her he was back. “Extraordinary.”

  It was, Elena thought in wonder, a resonance to the shifting fire that gave Raphael’s wings a sense of movement though he stood in place.

  Settling back in his chair, Keir said, “I haven’t seen such an effect in the others who are Cadre.”

&nb
sp; Elena forced herself to look away from Raphael, her antennae on alert. “Do you know anything of what’s happening with Michaela’s abilities?”

  Keir shook his head. “She doesn’t trust me, though she knows I would never break my vows as healer. It is also true that I have always favored Raphael.” Putting down his tea, he looked at her with his old, wise eyes. “As I favor the consort who has brought him back from the cruel edge of immortality.”

  Elena set aside the plate on which she’d cut the peach, and leaned forward after a quick glance to ensure Raphael remained absorbed in his conversation with Illium. “Lijuan warned Raphael I’d make him a little bit mortal.”

  “You have.” Quiet equanimity. “And you worry you’ve weakened him. You have.”

  Elena flinched.

  “Elena.” Shaking his head, Keir waited until she met his gaze again. “Even an archangel needs a weakness—absolute power is a corruption. Of that, Lijuan is the perfect example.”

  A rustle of wings, Illium and Raphael walking across to join them before she could point out that while the latter might be true, Raphael needed to be at full strength to beat Lijuan and her ilk.

  Raphael wasted no time or words. “What did you discover, Keir?”

  “The disease that killed the vampire, it is akin to the pox.”

  Elena sucked in a breath as Illium came to lean against her armchair, his eyes liquid gold in the firelight and his wing warm against her own. “The disease that has so often killed tens of thousands of mortals?”

  “Yes.” Keir held up a hand when they would’ve spoken again. “It isn’t identical—it has a more virulent effect on the internal organs, turning them to liquid, yet doesn’t appear to be as infectious. It requires more than a speck or two of blood to transfer. A few droplets, perhaps even a small feed, though I cannot be certain on that last point.”

  Raphael shook his head. “You wouldn’t fly to us when you are so clearly exhausted if you had good news.”

  “You’ve known me too long.” The healer took a deep breath. “My tests show the disease has an incubation period of six hours. After that, it appears to progress at vicious speed—the victim would’ve been too debilitated to go for help by the time he understood he was ill. Terrible as that was for him, it’s good in the wider scheme of things.”