Archangel's Heart

8

Raphael, Bluebell is in the sky—I think we need to let him go. He was in no mood to listen to anyone right now.

I’ll warn Dmitri to keep a watch for him.

Returning to the house, Elena stepped inside the library to find Aodhan still in his seat. He didn’t appear to have eaten anything in the time she’d been gone, and when she walked in, his eyes went immediately to behind her. “Where is he?” he asked the instant he became aware Illium wasn’t about to appear.

Elena shrugged and pointed up.

Jaw going taut, Aodhan stared at his plate. “Is he all right?” The question sounded like it had been torn out of him.

Elena decided to be honest. “Angry and hurt in equal measures.”

Face flushing, Aodhan pushed back his own chair. “Sire, I will take my leave.”

“I will see you on the dawn, Aodhan. Thank you for the information on the Luminata.”

A quick nod later, Aodhan was gone in a cascade of light sparking off his feathers. So extraordinary, so beautiful.

Everyone wants to own Aodhan. He’s a beautiful jewel and the world can’t bear just to look at him and wonder at his beauty. They want to break him, cage him.

Taking her seat as Illium’s passionate words echoed through her mind, Elena threw back half a glass of wine before angling her body to face Raphael. “Illium told me about Remus.” She had to fight to keep her voice even. “I can see why you both reacted badly to the realization Aodhan must’ve been speaking to him. Why didn’t you kill the bastard at the time?”

Wings sweeping to the floor in a white gold fall, her archangel leaned back in his chair, his eyes difficult to read. “It would’ve raised too many questions about exactly what he’d done to deserve such a final punishment.”

Exposing what the asshole had tried to do to Aodhan.

“Aodhan was correct,” Raphael added after a long pause. “He is no longer who he once was, who we have so long been accustomed to thinking of him as. He did what was necessary in his capacity as the warrior who will accompany us to the Luminata’s inner sanctum.”

Elena frowned. “Why did you choose Aodhan for the trip to Lumia? You had to know it would bring up a bad time of his life.”

“I’m afraid your consort’s memories let him down,” Raphael said, a darkness in his expression that she could read very well; it was old, aged anger. “Prior to that moment when Remus rose to the forefront of my mind, I saw Aodhan only as he is now—a powerful member of my Seven who fought to save my city and who makes art full of quiet wonder. Remus was dealt with centuries ago—I had long forgotten him.”

Elena nodded. “Yeah, I can see that. Aodhan’s been so strong—he recovered from his battle injuries faster than anyone expected and he’s far more sociable these days.” Not in comparison to most people, but for Aodhan. “No wonder you forgot.”

Drinking the last of the wine in his glass, Raphael placed the glass back on the table. “While you were outside, Aodhan told me that he was pleased to get the assignment, pleased at the silent acknowledgment that I didn’t see him as too damaged to take on this task.”

“Ah.” Aodhan’s coldly furious response to Raphael and Illium suddenly made even more sense. “Then you two spoiled it by bringing up his past.” She shook her head. “How’d you fix that?”

“I’m not sure I did.” Raphael rose. “Walk with me, Elena-mine.”

Getting up, she slipped her hand into his. “Aodhan’s still coming with us, right?”

“Of course. I made an error of judgment in questioning him, but I wouldn’t compound it by changing his assignment when he remains more than equal to it.”

“Good. Then we’ll figure things out during the trip.” Aodhan might be angry right now, but he was one of the most even-tempered of the Seven. He’d calm down . . . but then again, Elena hadn’t known Aodhan before he was hurt, so she suddenly realized she might have no idea what she was talking about.

“Did he have a temper before he was taken?” While she didn’t know exactly what had happened to him, she’d picked up enough to know he’d been kidnapped, held in captivity. The rest, as with Illium and his father, she had no right to know unless Aodhan chose to tell her.

Raphael’s chuckle was a warm, rich sound in the night darkness. “He is a gifted artist, Elena, one of the greatest in angelkind, though he does not like it when we say thus.”

“Artistic temperament? Okay, yeah, that I didn’t figure.”

“He rarely gives in to it. Illium was always the more volatile of the two, but Aodhan had his moments.”

Elena worked through the idea of a hot-tempered Aodhan, began to smile. “Well, he might be pissed, but you know what?”

“What?”

“It means Sparkle really is coming back.” Artistic temper and all.

“Yes,” Raphael said with a slow smile, “you are right. Our Sparkle is indeed coming back to us.” He raised his head to look up at the stars. “I wonder how long it will take your Bluebell to understand that?”

Artistic moodiness or not, Aodhan was in an even temper in the gray predawn light the next morning when he met Elena and Raphael for the flight to the plane that’d take them to Morocco. The baggage had already been sent forward, with Montgomery having taken full charge of that task.

“You will need gowns,” the butler had told Elena. “The Luminata would be insulted if you stalked through their hallways in hunter gear.”

Elena had scowled so hard her mother would’ve no doubt warned her that her face would freeze into that expression if she wasn’t careful. “I am who I am.”

“Even archangels respect the ways of the Luminata.”

Well, that had shut her up. Who the hell was she to disregard rules the Cadre itself respected? “Damn it, what the heck do I pack?”

The butler’s expression had been as restrained as usual, but she’d caught a glint of hidden laughter. “I will take care of it, Guild Hunter. I will also ensure that you have a gown on the plane that you can change into before you head for Lumia.”

Elena had no idea what she’d do without Montgomery. Probably insult everyone around her without realizing it. “You have to wear formal gear, too?” she asked Aodhan now.

The other angel was currently dressed in warrior leathers of a beaten gold that suited his coloring so beautifully, she knew those leathers had been made for him and him alone. “Once we get to Lumia, I mean.” Right now, she was in jeans, boots, a tee, and a thin sweater with leather straps that crisscrossed her torso.

“I am your escort,” he responded. “I’m expected to be in leathers or other clothing suitable to a warrior.”

“I hate you,” Elena said without heat.

His eyes, those strange, hauntingly beautiful eyes of crystalline blue-green shards shattered outward from an obsidian pupil, warmed. “I’ll let you hold my swords if you’re nice.”

“Very funny, Sparkle.”

His eyebrows drew together over his eyes at her reference to the nickname he was trying to stamp out of existence. “I’m going to kill Illium,” he said, not for the first time. But his eyes, they looked up, as if searching the skies for wings of blue and silver.

Those wings hadn’t appeared by the time they took off from the Enclave. And despite Aodhan’s teasing, Elena did have all her weapons. Raphael had told her that as a warrior-consort, she was expected to have weapons on her. “If Hannah turned up armed to the teeth, that would raise some eyebrows, but everyone is aware of the fact that my consort was and is a hunter.”

That had cheered her up. Especially since Montgomery had made it a point to come out and tell her that the gowns he’d packed were such that she wouldn’t be hindered in a fight should such a fight become necessary.

It was a good thing she’d made herself practice in gowns over the past two years. Her hunter friends found it a hoot to spar with her while she was glammed up, but the lunatics had helped her refine her technique. It was Ransom with his skin of copper gold, eyes of Irish green, and skill as a streetfighter who’d given her a tiny switchblade. “Even if you can’t wear any other blade openly, you can hide this somewhere, use it to cut slits in your dress so you can run, find a weapon.”

Elena had shown the dangerous weapon to Raphael. “Don’t get worked up about another man giving me a blade,” she’d ordered. “Ransom is very happily married, and I like this beauty.”

Her archangel had said nothing—but Ransom’s switchblade had disappeared mysteriously two days later, to be replaced by an even deadlier version.

Her archangel really didn’t like it when anyone but him gave her a blade, she thought with a grin as all three of them lifted off, Elena flying off the cliff and down to the Hudson before sweeping up to join Aodhan and Raphael.

Waving to Montgomery when she saw the butler standing perfectly suited on the lush green of the lawn, she luxuriated in the cool air that ran over her wings and tugged at the small strands of hair that had escaped her tight braid. Aodhan had gone high, as he preferred, but Raphael was flying nearby. And his wings, they were dangerous white fire.

He could’ve outpaced her in a heartbeat, but he stayed on the same drafts, and when she looked over to him, he glanced back with a smile that was for her alone. They didn’t speak; there was no need for it, the two of them in perfect harmony as they dipped and angled and rode along the winds. It felt as if they arrived at the airport far too fast.

Landing first, Raphael waited for her to join him, then the two of them watched Aodhan descend. He was a fracture of light, so bright even in the pale dawn sunshine that Elena had to slide on sunglasses to continue to watch. Every part of him seemed to shimmer as he landed in front of her and folded back his wings.

The captain descended the steps of the plane at that instant. “Sire.” The vampire inclined his head.

Elena had been around the Tower long enough to have caught on to the subtleties in the greetings Raphael received. Dmitri never bowed his head, his and Raphael’s friendship far too deep, their trust too cemented to need it. As slight a bow as the captain had offered meant the other man was a powerful vampire who held Raphael’s trust and respect.

Elena smiled at the medium height male built like a tank, all muscle and power. “Hey, Mack.”

Dougal Mackenzie gave her a quelling look. “Consort.”

He was such a stick in the mud. It put paid to all her ideas about Scottish lairds. Okay, fine, she hadn’t actually had any ideas about Scottish lairds before meeting Dougal, but it just seemed wrong that he was so by-the-book. Maybe he was still sore that his clan had said he couldn’t be laird for any longer than the span of a natural human life. Not fair to the coming generations to have a vampire laird who could live for thousands of years.

Of course, she was just speculating since Dougal had never deigned to satisfy her curiosity. Today, he met Raphael’s eyes, said, “We’re ready to take off on your word.”

Dougal headed back inside after Raphael acknowledged the statement, while Elena raised her eyes to the sky once more. Come on, Bluebell. You know he needs you. Aodhan might be getting ever stronger, but he still permitted only Illium to touch him freely.

He wouldn’t shrug off Elena’s touch or Raphael’s, but he wouldn’t welcome it, either. It was more that he’d learned to bear it—no, that wasn’t right. He’d held on to her hand when she needed it, given her comfort. It was better to say he could break through his trauma to make contact. Only with Illium was that barrier nonexistent.

That told Elena a lot about how far Aodhan still had to go.

“Raphael, you know what happened with those two last night?” she asked when the other angel removed his dual swords and harness and took them to store inside the plane, where they would be within arm’s reach.

Raphael shook his head. “Dmitri told me both were missing all night, that is all.”

“From the way Aodhan looked at the sky before he went into the plane,” Elena said, her own eyes lifting up once again, “I have a feeling he didn’t find Illium. You think . . .”

“I do not know if your Bluebell will come here,” Raphael said. “Illium rarely takes offense—and when he does, it is often over in a flash. He forgives more generously than any other angel I know.”

That fit with everything Elena understood about Illium herself. “Then why?”

“Because this, hbeebti, isn’t only about anger.”

She thought of how Illium had fought not to cry, his body rigid. “He was really hurt.” Looking over her shoulder as Aodhan came back out to stand beside the plane, she switched to mental speech. Can we wait a little longer?

Eyes of heartbreaking blue landed on the angel who shone like a star under the sunlight. I’m afraid not. Her archangel’s voice was the cool mountain wind against her senses. “There is no more time.”

They headed up the steps of the plane on the heels of his words.

Aodhan was the last one to board, and he kept his eyes turned toward the window as the plane began to roll down the runway. He didn’t look away even after they were in the clouds . . . not until they’d gone too far for even Illium to catch up to them.