Archangel's Enigma

9

Naasir crossed the border into Lijuan’s territory just before dawn the next morning. He’d done it many times. Then, his task had been to take the temperature of the land, discern the mood of her people. He’d prowled in the shadows of villages and cities and he’d listened, then reported back.

Today, he was racing against time through a landscape lashed with the brilliant colors of fall. If Xi’s squadron had flown straight from the Refuge to the citadel, Andromeda had already been in Lijuan’s clutches for at least twelve hours.

Naasir didn’t think she’d survive much longer than another forty-eight at most. She was a warrior and a scholar, but she wasn’t sneaky. Okay, maybe a little sneaky since she’d fooled him with her civilized skin, but not deep-down sneaky—Naasir wasn’t sure she’d be able to mislead Lijuan long enough for Naasir to get to her.

Because one thing he knew: Andromeda would not betray what she knew about Alexander. Others might doubt her allegiance because of her bloodline, but he’d seen the truth of her as he held her pinned to the earth. Her honor was an indelible part of her, embedded into her true skin in a way nothing could erase.

Winter storms and lightning.

He changed direction at the scent in the air, running through the long grasses without bothering to lower his body. The sun hadn’t yet risen, the light dim and gray. Even had it been noon, no one saw Naasir in the grasses when he didn’t want to be seen. He was a shadow, a striped mirage. The angel who waited for him beneath the spreading branches of a large tree dressed in leaves of scarlet and gold was another kind of shadow.

Wings of black held tight to his back and his body motionless, Naasir wouldn’t have seen Jason if he hadn’t caught his scent. He approved. To him, the spymaster had always been one of the most dangerous members of the Seven. It caused Naasir no surprise that Jason had found him. As Naasir could track by scent, Jason had methods of his own.

“You’ll help me find Andromeda?” he asked on reaching the black-winged angel, because if Jason had another task, Naasir couldn’t assist, not today.

But Jason nodded, his tattoo bared by the neat way he’d pulled his hair into a queue at his nape. Naasir had gone with Jason on one of Jason’s trips to the Pacific Island home of the artist who’d done the work. Jason had walked alone for a long time, but sometimes he didn’t seem to mind a curious Naasir tagging along.

Naasir felt the same way about pain as he did about cold: he could bear it, but he didn’t choose it. However, he understood Jason’s choice to go through the grueling process that meant the tattoo would “stick” to his immortal skin. The tattoo was like Naasir’s stripes—an acknowledgment of the wildness inside Jason.

Now, Jason spread out the midnight of his wings to stretch them, then folded them back in, the smooth motion a wave of silent darkness. He was the only angel Naasir knew who could, when he wished, move his wings with zero sound. No susurration, no rustle, nothing but pure silence.

“I’ve confirmed the scholar has been taken to Lijuan’s central citadel.”

Naasir bit back a harsh, nonhuman sound at Jason’s words. He had no argument with the spymaster’s intelligence—Jason was never wrong about things like this. It was the idea of Andromeda shut up with Lijuan’s ugliness that made his claws emerge, the curved blades gleaming even in the murky light. “Can you get her out?” he asked, because getting Andromeda to safety was the important thing, not who did it, and the skyroad was faster than the ground.

Jason shook his head. “Not alone. Also, the fact she doesn’t know me could cause a dangerous delay.”

“Then we go in together, get her out.”

“You’ll need to practice patience for this, Naasir.” Jason closed the short distance between them. “I know you can get in, but we have to get in and out with her without being seen and without alerting her guards.”

“You’re strong. You can kill them.” He’d seen Jason’s black fire ignite the sky. “I’ll help you.” Naasir could fight many men at once.

“We’re not strong enough to defeat the sheer number of troops stationed in and around the citadel.” Jason’s voice was quiet but hard, demanding attention. “You must use the primal part of your nature in this. You must be cunning and stealthy and unseen.”

Naasir flexed his fingers and thought about what Jason had said. “Can I kill some of them?” They had taken—and probably scared, maybe hurt—someone in his care; he wanted to mete out punishment.

“Only if it won’t lead to us being exposed.”

Forcing his claws back in, he stared at Jason. “All right,” he said at last, trusting Jason’s advice because Jason was one of his family and had stood with Naasir whenever it was necessary. “I can get in—but if I’m to get Andromeda out without Xi’s forces being aware of it, you need to tell me the layout of the citadel.”

Jason pulled out a map from a pocket, unfolded it.

For the next ten minutes, Naasir contained his impatience and listened and learned. He was smart. Dmitri had told him that as a child when he’d refused to go to Jessamy’s school; the older vampire had found him sitting atop a high shelf in the stronghold library, arms folded and face set.

He’d pretended he was being stubborn because he didn’t want to go, but really, he hadn’t known how to be like the other children, how to understand the words he’d seen Jessamy write on the board when he’d snuck over there to peek through the windows.

“You’re clever,” Dmitri had said, hunkering down in front of him after ordering him down. “You have more smarts than many an adult.”

“Then why do I need to study?”

“Because it’ll give you another weapon.” Dmitri’s dark eyes hadn’t moved from his, the fact he was a far more dangerous predator calming to Naasir. No one could harm him or make him do bad things while he was in a family with Raphael and Dmitri.

“Else,” Dmitri had continued, “others will be able to do things behind your back, have secrets you can’t unravel.”

Naasir hated the idea of being shut out, so he’d gone to school. It had been difficult for him to stay still for long periods, but Jessamy hadn’t thrown him out, even when he climbed the wall to cling to the ceiling. She’d smiled instead and continued to teach and he’d learned his words. He’d even learned sums. And somewhere along the way, he’d made friends who liked to do wild, naughty things with him.

One parent had been so angry at a game he’d taught her son that she’d marched in and demanded “the savage brat” be removed from the school. Naasir had gone quiet that day. Dmitri wasn’t there to protect him and the angel who’d marched to the school was powerful, much more powerful than thin, breakable Jessamy.

He’d been ready to claw the powerful angel if she dared hurt his gentle teacher, but to his shock, he’d seen Jessamy face down the other woman without once raising her voice. That was when he’d understood two fascinating things:

One—Jessamy didn’t just tolerate him, she was willing to fight for him; she liked him.

Two—sometimes, you could win a fight without claws.

Today, it was the latter lesson that he kept at the forefront of his mind. “What if Andromeda is being held in one of these places?” He pointed out what Jason said was the central throne room, as well as several other public areas.

“You wait.” Jason put away the map after confirming Naasir had memorized it. “Even if she’s being hurt, even if she’s screaming and begging, you wait.”

Naasir’s claws wanted to release again. “Would you wait if your princess was being hurt?” Naasir didn’t yet know Jason’s mate well, but he’d danced with her during a dinner at Elena and Raphael’s home. She was young and sweet and not at all dangerous. Because he respected Jason, Naasir had been very careful not to scare her.

Jason’s expression was unreadable, but Naasir had known him for centuries, felt the storm crackling in the air. “If I knew that to rush in would equal further torture for her, yes,” Jason said at last. “If you go in, you’ll die or be taken hostage. Lijuan will use you to make her talk, or to take revenge against Raphael. Either way, you’ll be useless to Andromeda. So you wait. Even if she bleeds.”

Naasir flexed and unflexed his hands, a growl rumbling in his chest. “I want to hurt you right now.”

“You know I speak the truth.”

He forced himself to nod. “I’ll wait.” Because Jason was clever, too. Very, very clever. He’d been in and out of Lijuan’s citadel without the archangel ever being the wiser. “Where will you be?”

“I’ll go in with you and do whatever’s necessary to divert attention from your escape route. You have a phone?” At Naasir’s nod, he said, “Message me after you learn her location so I can cause a distraction away from it. And tell Andromeda not to fly once you’re out—the sky is too heavily guarded.”

“I won’t leave you there alone.” Naasir did not leave his family behind.

“I’ll be behind you,” Jason assured him. “If you can’t send me a message to let me know your location, just keep going. I’ll find you.”

“Don’t take too long or I’ll come back for you.”

Jason held his eyes and then he did something he hadn’t done for a long time. He reached out to touch Naasir, closing his hand over Naasir’s shoulder in a firm grip. “I know,” he said. “Now, let’s hunt.”

Naasir bared his teeth again and twisted to continue his run through the grasses as Jason prepared to lift off. Perhaps, he thought, considering Jason’s touch, there were more benefits to mating than he’d realized. Even with a soft, breakable mate, Jason was happy now. Jason hadn’t been happy for hundreds of years. He’d been dark inside.

Naasir wasn’t dark inside . . . but he was alone. The only one of his kind in the entire world. He had friends, had family, but he had no one who was like him. Mating wouldn’t change that, but it would give him a person who belonged to him just as much as he belonged to her. And maybe one day, they’d have a cub and there would be another like him in the world.

He grinned at the thought of a naughty cub hanging upside down from a tree branch. No one knew if he could reproduce, but Keir said there was no reason he shouldn’t be able to; he wasn’t like Made vampires who were only fertile for about two centuries after their Making. He’d been born as well as Made . . . and he was mostly not a vampire.

What even Keir couldn’t tell him was whether he was biologically compatible with a female, mortal or immortal, vampire or angel. He’d never tried to create a cub with anyone—he knew when he was in heat, could feel it, and he never took lovers during that time.

He didn’t want his cub to have a mother who thought he—or she!—was a savage. He wanted someone he trusted to love their child. And he hadn’t been old enough to be a father. Now, he was, and he’d found an angel who wore her own secret skin, but who’d shown her real self to him.

He wanted to play more with her, find out if she could be his mate. To do that, he first had to rescue her from hell.

Andromeda had actually fallen asleep during the last part of the journey to Lijuan’s citadel. It wasn’t by chance. Dahariel had taught her that skill over a hundred years of training. A warrior who could sleep where he or she had the chance, was a warrior who’d last longer in battle—or in enemy hands. While as an angel of almost four hundred, she didn’t have to sleep every night, she couldn’t last days or even weeks without sleep.

Sleep is a weapon. Dahariel’s aquiline features in her vision. It rejuvenates and heals. Use it like any other weapon at your disposal.

She’d never appreciated the value of his training and advice more than she did today.

Her hours of sleep meant she was alert when they arrived at the citadel just before sunrise. Ordering her bonds cut off as soon as they landed, Xi allowed her to remove her blindfold herself. “Are you in any pain or discomfort?”

She wasn’t surprised at the civility of his question. Xi was a general down to his bones. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t execute or torture her should it become necessary, but until then, he’d treat her with flawless courtesy.

“A little stiff,” she said, stretching out her wings and wincing more than strictly required. “May I be permitted to do a low flight to ease my muscles?” It would give her an idea of the landscape at least.

Unfortunately, Xi was too smart to permit such a slip after keeping her blindfolded this long. “No,” he said. “But you can spread your wings in this courtyard before we go in.”

Andromeda took her time. She was stiff and she needed to move smoothly if she was to seize an escape opportunity when it arose. Going through some basic exercises taught to most angels in childhood, she did nothing to betray her training under Dahariel—or the fact she’d kept up her skill by sparring with Dahariel and Galen behind walls that protected her secret.

Both angels had agreed with her choice to keep a hidden skill in her arsenal. Galen helped her because she was one of Jessamy’s apprentices, but Dahariel’s motives were . . . complicated. Andromeda didn’t like to think too much on those motives, but her training meant she had some kind of a chance in this hostile environment.

You have secrets.

Naasir’s deep voice echoed in her head and she wondered what he’d done after discovering she’d gone missing. He would’ve joined in the search, but even a silver-eyed vampire who wasn’t a vampire couldn’t be expected to infiltrate this citadel. As far as she was aware, no one aside from Lijuan’s people even knew its exact location.

If she was to survive this and escape, she’d have to rely on herself. Ironically, her bloodline might sway Lijuan enough to keep Andromeda alive, but Andromeda was no hypocrite. She wouldn’t attempt to use a family name she’d chosen to forsake—and regardless, given the way she’d been abducted, Lijuan wasn’t worried about offending Charisemnon.

“Thank you,” she said to Xi after completing the stretching routine.

She’d taken the opportunity to note the armed guards atop the high turrets, as well as the squadrons overhead. For some reason, and despite having witnessed the exquisite beauty and stately elegance of the Forbidden City before its destruction, she’d expected Lijuan’s citadel to be an ugly monstrosity full of despair—instead it was formed from a shimmering dark gray stone that the rising sun lit to glowing life.

Flowers in subtle shades bloomed in large planters situated around the courtyard, and she could see not only soldiers of both sexes moving about, but also maidens dressed in delicate silk cheongsams and ethereal gowns. There were pretty male courtiers, too, wearing embroidered silks and fashionable tunics.

Water glinted through one passageway out of the courtyard, along with flashes of green. A pond, Andromeda realized. Perhaps a garden created around that source of water. That had to be the true courtyard where Lijuan might walk amongst her courtiers. This was the more practical external one, and even it was paved with stones that glittered with flecks of sparkling minerals.

The parts of the roof she could see from here had sinuous dragons along the edges, while painstakingly carved stone bridges connected one section of the citadel to another. Those bridges endowed on the surely sprawling edifice an appearance of fragility. Impressive, given that it was hewn out of stone and could probably withstand a long-term siege.

“It’s beautiful,” she murmured. “I expected a more military-like structure.”

“This is our lady’s home,” Xi said, a touch of censure in his tone, his posture military straight. “She has always loved and nurtured artists, though she has never flaunted it like Michaela. This citadel was designed by a gifted architect long ago.”

“Ah.” She ran her fingers over the stone, her bones aching from the sense of history embedded in the silky smoothness under her touch. As if so many hands had touched this stone over so many millennia, it had been worn down to its purest essence. “Suyin?” she asked in wonder.

A small incline of Xi’s head. “She was born of Lady Lijuan’s sister.”

Andromeda felt her heart sigh. To be allowed to view, to touch one of Suyin’s lost masterworks . . . It almost made her forget her circumstances. Craning her neck, she wished she could see the citadel from above—not for escape this time, but because her scholar’s heart was aflutter at the idea of exploring what may well be the largest structure Suyin ever designed.

Xi allowed her time to admire the parts she could glimpse before nodding at her to walk with him into the citadel.

“The world lost a great artist on Suyin’s death,” Andromeda said, her hands itching for a sketchpad and a pencil.

“Yes.”

Even as she continued to glory in the grace and splendor that shouted Suyin’s touch—as embodied in the palace the architect had designed for Alexander—she was recalling the sad and mysterious circumstances of the other woman’s death. “Since Suyin’s body was never found, I’ve always hoped that perhaps her suicide note was a feint intended to allow her to go to Sleep on her own terms.”

Xi’s wings brushed hers on a tight corner. “My apologies,” he said, immediately putting an inch between them. “I wasn’t alive at the time Suyin created this citadel, but my lady may have further insights. We go to see her now.”

Andromeda’s blood chilled, wonder erased by ice-cold fear.