by Nalini Singh
“If that changes, come straight here so I can take a sample. I need to see if your cells morph when you glow.”
“Uh-huh.” Elena couldn’t help thinking how she’d gone glow-in-the-dark in Raphael’s arms. “Give me a syringe.”
Lucius sighed, his handsome face set in lines that shouted, “Grant me patience.” “Do you know how to use one to draw blood?”
“Well . . . no.”
“Just prick yourself and put a couple of drops in here, then close the stopper.” He passed over a small glass vial, then added two more. “Get me samples from the archangel, too. He’s also got glowing cells.”
“What we did, it changed both of us.” His heart in her chest. Her heart in fragments in his system. Their minds locked together in the dream.
Leaving the infirmary, the vials tucked safely into a zippered pocket of the hip-length black leather jacket that Beth had sent over, she found herself drawn to the balcony at the end of the hall. Phantom wings tugged suddenly at her back, a maddening muscle echo her body couldn’t forget.
Gritting her teeth, she continued on. The balcony had no railing—and Elena not only didn’t have wings, her bone structure wasn’t strong enough to withstand any kind of a real impact, far less one from so high. She’d splatter herself into pieces.
Regardless, she stepped into the doorway . . . and lifted an eyebrow. “Did you summon me?”
“You were speaking of blood.” Under the haze of a misty rain, the Primary was a crouched gargoyle, gray and motionless but for his mouth.
Oddly, Elena wasn’t disturbed by his knowledge. The Legion were a hum at the back of her mind now, there without intruding. “You listened in?”
“No. We just feel it.”
That made no sense but this was the Legion. Making sense wasn’t their strong suit. “So, any input on the glowing cells situation?”
“The sire’s blood traveled across the bed and was absorbed by the chrysalis. We watched it. We did not interfere.”
And that was after the damn insane archangel had given her a piece of his heart. All that archangelic blood inside her when Raphael released violent energy meant for an archangel. Powered by his blood, her body had obviously stolen some . . . but what was it doing with it? “Anything else happen while we were napping?”
“Right before you woke, the filaments that formed the chrysalis grew and grew, spreading like spidersilk across Raphael and the room.” His bat-like wings stayed motionless even as the wind riffled his hair. “Before then, a long time before, we had a thought that the earth would help you, so we brought the soil from your garden and it was dark and rich, and we placed it over the chrysalis and the sire’s sleeping body.”
Elena thought back—they’d woken on such dark soil. A remnant of the Legion’s offering? “I remember bringing that soil into my greenhouse.” She smiled at the memory of Illium’s complaints about how hauling bags of soil was beneath his dignity—but he’d done it anyway, on the condition she plant some bluebells in the soil.
Her hands itched. “How is your garden? Can I come play?”
Welcome. Welcome. Welcome. Elena. Come. Come. We wait.
So much excitement that her head hurt but she didn’t censure them. They’d missed her, these strange beings unlike any others in the world. She’d missed them, too. “Give me a few minutes.”
The journey to the ground floor was the easy part—all she had to do was get in the elevator. Even crossing the grass to the Legion building didn’t take much out of her—she was definitely stronger after the psychedelic sex mojo with Raphael. Fine droplets of water beaded on her jacket, clung to her lashes, the cool, damp day beautiful to her. Then she reached the bottom of the wall of vines that led up to the entrance to the Legion’s home . . . and reality hit with a backhanded slap.
Visit’ll have to wait. Things ached inside her, the need for the earth curling her fingers into her palms. I’ll fall and break my butt right now.
Elena. Elena. Elena. One of the Legion landed beside her. Come.
She went to repeat that she couldn’t when she realized he was waving for her to move to the right of the climbing wall. Keeping her questions to herself, she followed him around the corner and, after he lifted it up, under a heavy weight of vines. There, hidden behind those thick ropes was a door that had been opened from the inside.
“Hot damn.” Soul flowering at the humid warmth that whispered outward from the doorway, she slipped in. The Legion fighter came after her. As she watched, he locked the door securely behind him—it involved two iron bars and a third crossbar.
The first thing she did was take off her boots and socks and curl her toes into the grass underfoot. The second was to shrug off her jacket. Fall was locked out, summer in full bloom within. She stood in a grove of orange trees plump with unseasonal fruit. Plucking a ripe one, she used one of her knives to cut it into pieces and held out a slice to the Legion fighter.
The Legion didn’t need to eat, but anytime she gave them food, they accepted.
The fighter took the slice, looked at it with intense interest, then ate it. Peel and all.
Grinning, she disposed of her own peels at the foot of a tree, where it would become part of the earth once again, then just walked around, breathing in the smell of the earth, and of green growing things.
Elena. Come.
Heading toward the two members of the Legion who’d spoken to her, she saw an empty garden lush with dark soil. A row of potted seedlings sat beside it. “Is that for me?”
For you. We make. For you.
Her throat closed up. “Thank you.” Going down to her knees, she sank her fingers into the soil and sighed. “I needed this so much.”
Humming quietly under her breath, she began to plant. She was aware of the Legion around her, above her. One was a helpful presence that passed her the potted seedlings, while another flew down with a tray on which sat a large bottle of Nisia’s new concoction, meant to complement the IV calories. Elena drank it without complaint.
Once she’d planted her small garden to her satisfaction, she helped weed the other gardens on this floor, and checked the orange trees for any indication of damaging insect activity. The Legion brought her berries to eat, flowers to look at, acting like small children excited to show her their favorite things. This was the paradox of the Legion—they were infinite in age, yet at times, innocent as children.
Deeply content and less tired than she’d expected by the time she finished gardening, she said good-bye to the Legion before exiting via the secret entrance to return to the Tower. Suhani, the receptionist, had been away from her desk when Elena left the Tower, but now beamed and waved at her, so Elena walked over.
The vampire’s smile deepened, but there was sadness in the brown of her gaze. Suhani had seen Elena come through these doors the very first time, when the Archangel of New York had summoned Guild Hunter Elena Deveraux to his tower. Later, she’d seen Elena reappear with wings, and now the wings were gone.
Yeah, it was going to be an adjustment for all of them.
About to say hello, Elena got distracted by the utterly lovely bonsai on the polished black marble counter behind which Suhani held sway. “This is glorious work.” The Japanese red maple had been painstakingly shaped into its miniature form with intricate delicacy, the color of the leaves an astonishing and flawless scarlet.
“Oh, thank you.” Suhani blushed under the burnished brown of her skin, her hair a deep brown-black that she always wore in a sleek knot. “I used to do it a hundred years ago, then fell out of practice, but I have a few that have survived my benign neglect.”
Elena had never asked Suhani’s exact age, but felt the cool and deadly weight of that age in her bones. Suhani might work reception, but she was no less than lethal. She was also a dedicated member of the “Bring back Hunter’s Prey” lobby, and had a scrapbook about the show tha
t she’d pull out at any opportunity.
“You have a true talent. Can I . . . ?” Elena lifted a hand.
“Of course!” Bright, happy eyes. “If you really like it, I would be honored to gift you one from my collection. I have a sakura that—” Her smile faded as the maple shot up two inches. Right under Elena’s hand.
Elena jerked back. But the maple, it grew . . . and grew.
20
Suhani stumbled out of her leather executive chair and back as roots burst out of the glazed ceramic pot in which the bonsai had been contained. Those roots fell over the side of the counter and seemed to be searching for soil, of which there was none in the marble and gloss of the lobby.
That didn’t stop the tree. Branches grew longer and stronger. The trunk thickened and rose toward the ceiling. Leaves expanded in size.
When it did finally stop, it was with a shake that sent a perfect scarlet leaf to land on Elena’s boot. The maple now stood eight feet above the counter. Which hadn’t cracked despite the massive new weight.
Suhani made a wordless noise.
Elena hunched up her shoulders. “I am so sorry.”
Coming around the counter, her steps neat and clipped due to the constriction of her tailored designer dress of deep pink, the receptionist bent back her head to take in the tree. “It’s real?” A whisper. “I’m not hallucinating?”
Not certain herself, Elena reached out to touch a tree root. It was hard and solid under her palm. Alive. “Real.”
Suhani stretched out her hand, hesitated. But she was obviously freaked out enough that she needed confirmation. “Real.” A breath as she jerked back her hand, huge eyes on Elena. “What do I do?”
Elena examined the tree again. “It’s healthy. Shame to let it die. I’ll ask the Legion to see if they can move it.” She winced. “Sorry about the mess in your workspace, and damn, your computer’s on the floor with a cracked screen.” She crossed mental fingers that Suhani had backed up her files. “I’ll make sure it’s all replaced.”
Suhani didn’t appear to have heard; her eyes were fixated on the maple. “No one will believe me. I don’t believe me.”
Elena wasn’t sure she believed her own eyes, either. Er, Archangel? Are you in the Tower?
The rain in her mind, the crashing sea. Yes. I’m on my way to speak to your Bluebell.
Um, mind coming down to the lobby first?
I am intrigued.
Elena stared at the tree again, trying to wrap her mind around the fact that she’d somehow put it on steroids. Then her nape prickled. Of course Raphael hadn’t taken the elevator. He’d simply flown to the ground and entered from the outside. “So,” she said without turning, “I did a thing.”
A sudden squeak . . . before Suhani keeled over in a dead faint. The vampire’s head would’ve hit the floor if Elena hadn’t caught her—with arms that quivered. “Shit, I forgot to warn her you were coming down.” For having worked so long in the Tower, Suhani remained starstruck by angels.
“I will take her.” Raphael carried Suhani around to settle her in her leather chair. “You have decided the Tower needs more greenery?” he asked afterward.
“I was just in the Legion building! None of the plants there did that.” Elena bit down hard on her lower lip. “It was a really old bonsai, too. How do I make that up to her?”
Raphael raised an eyebrow. “Only you would worry about such a thing. You are consort to an archangel, Elena.”
“Doesn’t change the fact I wrecked her freaking ancient bonsai!”
“Tell her she was carried in the arms of an archangel.” Pure chrome blue arrogance. “She will give you every one of her bonsai in return.” He pulled out a feather that was showing signs of naturally falling out, dropped it on the counter. “There, debt not only paid, but interest on top of it.”
“Stop, stop, your modesty is too much.” Elena glared at him. “Will you please take this seriously? I grew a fricking tree out of a miniature.”
“I cannot see how you can use it in battle.” Raphael rubbed his jaw. “Perhaps you can grow sudden trees in the path of enemy angels. Boom, smack. Truly, it is a power most terrible.”
“I swear, I’m this close to decking you.” But he’d made her relax, want to laugh at herself. “Yeah, fine, growing trees isn’t awful in the scheme of things.” In point of fact, it was pretty neat.
“Would you like to see if you can repeat it?”
Elena grinned. “Yes, let’s go.” She glanced at Suhani, who was starting to come around. “Can you mind-talk one of the healers to come check on her?”
A shake of his head at her softness, but he summoned the healer. The doors opened on the experienced vampire medic just before Suhani rose to full consciousness. “I’m so sorry, Suhani,” Elena said again. “I’ll find you another hundred-year-old bonsai.”
The other woman frowned, blinked, her pupils huge.
“You fainted,” Elena explained. “Raphael put you in the chair so you’d be comfortable.”
Raphael shifted into Suhani’s line of sight. “It pleases me that you are not hurt.”
Huge eyes before they rolled back in her head and she passed out again. Elena groaned. “That was not funny. The poor woman is in total awe of you.”
“As she should be.” A squeeze of her nape. “Suhani is a mid-level vampire who cannot afford to feel anything but fear and awe for angelkind. Bloodlust lies just beneath her skin.”
Elena found it difficult to see prim and proper Suhani as consumed by bloodlust, but she knew the compulsion existed in all vampires. The old and disciplined ones like Dmitri had long ago gotten it under control, but even Dmitri wouldn’t deny its existence. “What’s going to happen to Honor? Ashwini?” Former hunters and young vampires both. “Are they at risk?”
“Honor has a near-preternatural calm within her. Keir has commented on it—as if she is much older than her years.”
“I know what he means.” Elena always felt calmer and more centered around Honor, her presence a deep, content pool.
“As for Ashwini, she walks to her own beat, and none of us can predict her development—but she is a hunter, with the attendant discipline.” The two of them stepped out into the misty rain. Putting one arm around her, Raphael flew them up onto the upper entrance of the Legion building.
Elena! Aeclari! Raphael! Aeclari!
The voices were a storm that rapidly contained itself into a rumbling murmur. Despite her recent visit, she sighed anew at the beauty inside the humid warmth of the Legion’s home. Flowers bloomed out of season, vines crawled up the walls, grass grew underfoot. And when they asked for the seedling of a tree, the Primary urged them to follow him to the ground floor.
Elena couldn’t resist burying her nose in the crook of Raphael’s neck as he took them down, her lips tasting his skin. His eyes flamed blue fire at her when their feet hit the ground.
Tree children. The Primary waved to an entire row of potted plants. For you. We made for your new house of glass. Two are trees.
Elena’s throat got thick. “The mandarin orange,” she said, her voice husky. “Archangel, can you place it in a clear area?”
Raphael soon had the pot positioned, while the Primary looked on silently. Up above, hundreds more faces were turned their way. It should’ve been eerie to glance up and see all those gray faces looking down, bat wings held in silence, but she couldn’t be frightened of the Legion, especially when they whispered excitedly in her head.
Show us, Ellie. What is this? Show us.
“Not sure there’ll be anything to see,” she muttered. “I have no idea how I did this the first time.”
“Consider your thoughts then, and try to repeat them.”
Elena frowned. “I was just admiring the bonsai, thinking how wonderful it was.” As wonderful as this gift to help her repopulate her greenhouse. She stroked
the glossy leaves, admiration and joy in the contact.
Nothing happened.
Disappointment gnawed at her, the wound surprisingly brutal. I feel like a child throwing a tantrum, but I needed this more than I knew. Just one thing to balance out having lost my wings. A stone in her gut, she petted the tree’s leaves. “Not your fault.”
The roots of the plant erupted out of the sides of the pot, spraying her with dirt. She scrambled back and out of the way before getting to her feet. The tree grew. Tiny white flowers bloomed on the branches, formed into mandarin oranges, turned plump and ripe.
Chosen to fit inside her greenhouse, the final tree wasn’t huge, but it was taller than Raphael, its branches heavy with fruit.
Elena began to smile, then grin, her cheeks aching.
On the other side of the tree, the Primary stood motionless. When he did finally speak, it was with a chorus of hundreds of other voices, an unearthly choir. This, we have not seen. Not in all our eons of life.
21
Still on a high from the whole tree thing, Elena had showered and was pulling on fresh clothes—clothes that actually fit, because Montgomery was a magician—when her phone buzzed. Earlier that day, she’d given the phone to Vivek and he’d loaded it up with the numbers of friends, family, associates, but this one came up as unknown.
She answered it anyway. Every so often, she liked to startle a hapless telemarketer by informing them whom they’d inadvertently cold-called. Her favorite one was the vampire who’d thanked her for hauling him back to his angel eight years ago. “Met the love of my life six months later. She’s fine as fine can be and she don’t take no shit, and now we have a little man of our own. His name’s Eldev after you.”
Later, he’d sent her photos of his ebony-skinned and chubby-cheeked “little man,” the kid’s smile a weapon, it was so adorable.
“Ellie?”
“Beth.” Elena sat down on the edge of the bed, dressed only in her panties and a strappy tank. “This isn’t your number.”
