Archangel's Prophecy

41

Ignoring the chill on her skin and the ghost owls that watched her with unblinking focus, Elena used her phone to search for a photo of Archer’s daughter. There’d been an obituary in the Guild newsletter, the text written by Archer. There it was. Blond hair, brown eyes, face angled so the left side of her mouth wasn’t visible. She shot a message to Sara to see if she had another photo, then read the obituary.

My baby girl was smart and funny and loved doughnuts so much she once ate six in a row. She shouldn’t be gone. I’ll miss you always.

Below that was a note asking people to donate to a scholarship set up in her name: The Samaria Candace Archer Scholarship. No way to get Lucy from that, so maybe she was wrong and none of this had anything to do with the murders. Or maybe it was like China and Jenessa. One woman. Two names.

With more questions than answers, she called Ashwini the instant Hiraz left to return to his duties. “You manage to dig up anything about Lucy?” The other couple hadn’t had much time since her briefing, but Elena had just lost three more feathers, two of them primaries. She was on a strict deadline.

“Lucy’s dead.”

Elena’s heart was ice, filled with thoughts of a young woman who’d passed away a year and a half after her mother. “When?”

“Exactly eight months and twenty-three days ago,” Ashwini replied, and Elena felt the confirmation like a kick to the chest.

Picking up another feather she’d just shed, she stared at the fine filaments of inky black. “Where did you get your information?” There could be no crossed wires about this, no mistakes.

“Where I get all my weird information.”

“I thought you glimpsed the future?”

“I see . . . someone standing at Lucy’s grave—I got the date of death from the gravestone. What I see, the person—possibly people—at the grave, that hasn’t happened yet.”

Elena’s fingers clenched on the feather. “What was the name on the headstone?”

“This isn’t like high-resolution photography, Ellie. All I got was the date and the knowledge it was our girl in the ground.” Ashwini carried on. “Janvier managed to dig up that she appeared on the streets maybe three months before her father found her. She was new, so our informants noticed—fresh meat.”

The echo of Jeni’s description of herself made the hairs prickle on the back of Elena’s neck. Nothing unusual about that in a conversation with Ashwini—the other hunter had a way of existing just out of time.

“She was already experimenting with drugs by then, and word on the street is that Nishant Kumar supplied her to get her on-camera.” Edgy words. “One of our informants kept a clip from one of the recordings on his phone. He pirated it off a porn site. ‘Degrading’ is the word I’d use. Wasn’t about the sex but about humiliation. Real hard-core, brutal humiliation. Janvier had to stop me from beheading our informant. Then he turned around and nearly tore off the fucker’s head. Lost that informant for sure. Oh, well.”

“Harrison was friends with these assholes.” Elena kicked at the snow on the balcony, careful to do it away from the owls. “I have him in a photo with them and Lucy before she began to look like a junkie.”

“I’ve got bubkes on your brother-in-law so far. Call you back if we unearth more.”

Elena put away her phone and bent to pick up the three feathers she’d lost earlier. Walking through the phalanx of owls, she dropped those feathers plus the poor black one she’d crushed, over the edge of the balcony in her own personal good-bye. Two more lost primaries wouldn’t ground her, but at the rate they were shedding, she’d lose her ability to fly by the end of the day.

Tiredness was already beginning to infiltrate her bones, her back aching. Mind strangely clear, she decided that if this was to be her last day with wings, she’d fly her heart out. She’d be careful, not fly alone and land the instant it became dangerous, but she’d wring every last drop of wonder out of her dream of flight.

Streamers of white over the back of her hand, her bones shoving up in jagged peaks against her skin. Elena pushed off the visible filaments and rubbed at her face to ensure nothing was sticking there. Her palms came away with fine white strands. “Great.” She scowled at the owls. “Now I’m going to grow a beard?”

Spreading their wings, they flew off into the heavy gray-blue sky, fading into nothingness in front of her eyes as the spot on her chest, the dark mirror, began to pulse like a second heartbeat.

You could stop now, lower the chances of meeting the broken blade, the mourner.

Elena discarded that thought as soon as it arose. If she flinched and left Beth and Maggie in danger, she’d die inside anyway. Elena Deveraux was no coward; she’d face her reckoning head-on. “Archangel,” she murmured, searching the skies for him, though she’d sent him away herself.

A black fear crept insidiously through her veins.

“The last feather to fall,” she reminded herself, glancing back. “Yep, got plenty yet.” Spreading her wings, she prepared to take off.

Her phone rang.

It was Dmitri on the other end. “Harrison’s awake. Talk to him before he starts thinking about trying to cover his ass.”

“Have you heard from Raphael?”

“Geothermal field is unstable, but he’s close to achieving containment.”

“Casualties?”

“Ten dead, double that wounded. Without Raphael, it would’ve been in the hundreds.”

Saddened at the loss of life but relieved her archangel was safe, Elena ran to the infirmary, found Nisia with her brother-in-law. The healer was bent over him, her attention on his no-longer-bandaged neck wound. It appeared a macabre mouth, the flesh red and wet and the skin around it dark.

“How bad is it?” Harrison croaked, his gaze on Elena.

“You won’t win any beauty contests,” she said, “but you’ll live.”

Exhaling, her brother-in-law closed his eyes for a long moment before opening them again and saying, “I need to talk to her.” Halting but determined words directed at Nisia.

The healer looked between the two of them. “Five minutes,” she said firmly. “Talk fast.”

Elena shut the door behind Nisia then came to sit on the chair beside Harrison’s bed. “You heard her. We only have five minutes. You need to tell me what you’re involved in, Harrison. No bullshit.”

“Beth, she was here?” Dread skittered in his eyes. “I didn’t imagine it? Maggie is safe?”

“Both Beth and Maggie are fine.” It was obvious he wouldn’t be able to talk about anything until he was satisfied on that point. “Maggie never saw you like this—she thinks you’re away for work.”

Shuddering, Harrison croaked, “Eve? Is she okay?”

“Eve is tough.” Though she had to like Harrison for being worried about her. “Does this have to do with a girl called Lucy?”

Harrison’s pupils dilated, his breath escalating in speed. “I never hurt her,” he said. “I never touched her, and—”

“This isn’t about blame.” Elena fought to keep her tone curt and businesslike. “I just want to protect Beth and Maggie.” And get justice for Lucy. “Tell me all of it,” she ordered Harrison. “If you love them, don’t try to cover your ass, and just give it to me straight.”

“I met Lucy in a bar,” he rasped “It’s not what you think. I wasn’t on the prowl.” A tremor of breath. “I was meeting friends for a drink and they were late and she came up and started talking to me. I told her I was married and in love with my wife and little girl, and she said I might be her perfect man.”

Elena fed him chips of ice from the cup on the bedside table.

Melting the ice on his tongue, Harrison swallowed. “I laughed and flirted with her a little. I was flattered she’d hit on me but I never crossed any lines.” Desperate eyes clinging to Elena’s. “I knew I was going home to Beth and I wasn’t going to fuck that up. Then Nishant and Terence arrived, and I introduced her to them. I was the reason she met them.”

“That’s it?”

“I literally said, ‘Lucy, these are my friends Nish and Terry.’ After, Nish bought her a drink, and the four of us chatted for a few minutes. Lucy was open about having a thing for vampires and wanting a vampire boyfriend.” He licked his dry lips. “I never knew so many women were into that until I was Made.”

Vamp groupies lived for the thrill of danger that came with fangs in the throat. “Was this bar known to be popular with vampires?”

Harrison nodded. “Najat’s not a ‘get drunk’ bar. More a ‘have a drink with friends after work’ kind of place.” He gratefully accepted more ice chips. “Eric and Simon came in about ten minutes after,” he said when he could speak again.

“I didn’t know them except in passing, but Nish and Terry did. All four were post-Contract and older, and I could tell Lucy was attracted to that. She asked the barmaid to take a photo of us all maybe half an hour later. Andreas called me in for some unexpected work right after, and I left the bar.”

Another quick inhale. “I swear on Maggie’s life that I didn’t do anything but introduce Lucy to people I thought were friends. I knew they were into drugs, but I thought it was a hit now and then. Recreational. And Lucy was smart, nicely dressed, confident talking with them. I didn’t worry she couldn’t handle herself.”

Elena believed him. If there was one thing she knew about her brother-in-law, it was that he loved Maggie. He wouldn’t take her name lightly. And hell, if that was his connection to it all, it was too thin a thread to justify attempted murder. “You’re sure this is linked to Lucy? Anything else that could’ve come back on you?”

“He whispered it in my ear after he cut my throat. ‘For Lucy. Why should you have your Beth and Maggie when Lucy’s gone? Think of them rotting in the earth as you die.’” Coughs shook his body.

Bones aching from deep within and her wings crushingly heavy on her back, Elena waited for him to find his breath again before she said, “Do you know Lucy’s last name?”

But Harrison was lost in his own need to prove his innocence. “The next time I saw her was at a party they invited me to at Simon’s—it was that weekend you and Beth and the others went out of town. I asked Jean-Baptiste and Majda to babysit Maggie so I could drop by the party for an hour.”

It seemed a mirage now, those two days filled with laughter in a private hotel that provided spa treatments, manicures, mimosas, pretty much anything a bunch of women blowing off steam might need. “Go on,” she nudged Harrison when he stopped.

“Lucy had tattoos all over, weighed half of what she did before, and that smile was gone. I asked Nish what the fuck was going on, and he called me a loser, said I needed to learn to have a good time. Terry was feeding off her at the time.”

“Did you try to help her?” Elena asked.

“I told Lucy if she wanted out, I’d get her out.” Shivers wracked his body. “I figured I could talk to you, and you’d make sure Nish and Terry didn’t cause me trouble over losing Lucy.”

Elena nodded.

“But she wouldn’t come.” Harrison’s voice was anguished. “In spite of how Simon let Nish and Terry use her even after they got together, he had her convinced he loved her. I knew she’d die if I didn’t get her out, that they’d use her up and break her, but she refused to come. I was desperate, so . . .”

The world hung in the air, a thin glass bauble.

“So I called her father,” Harrison finished softly.

Elena went motionless. “You know the identity of Lucy’s father?”

“She’d said a few things about him at the bar, kind of offhand, even a little angry—but I remembered, because I thought it must make for interesting family dynamics with her wanting a vampire boyfriend. I put the pieces together and tracked him down. He was out of his mind with worry. I told him where he could find her.”

“You didn’t wonder when Nishant Kumar and Terence Lee were murdered?”

“That was ten months after her father took her back. I stopped hanging with them after Lucy, but I heard they were mixed up in the designer-drug trade by then. I figured it must’ve been a gang hit.”

Ten months was a long time between action and reaction. It spoke of patience, of justice served cold. “Did you ever hear from Lucy’s father again?”

“He sent me a funeral card in the mail nine months ago,” Harrison said, tears clogging his voice. “Lucy died. Drug overdose two months after she got out of rehab.”

Wishing she were wrong about Lucy’s identity and knowing she wasn’t, Elena carried it through. “You go to her funeral?”

“No, I was in Alaska that week to gather data for a small business deal Andreas was considering, but I called with my condolences,” Harrison said. “He thanked me for giving him three more months with his daughter, said she’d been his sweet girl again for weeks, that they’d cried together and figured out their problems.”

Elena frowned. What could’ve pushed Lucy’s father from gratitude to wanting to murder Harrison?

Then her brother-in-law said, “I told him I was so sorry I’d ever introduced Lucy to Nish and Terry.”

The hammer fell. “What’s her father’s name, Harrison?” she asked on a whisper, because she knew and she wished she didn’t. Hunting a friend was the worst thing that could be asked of a person. It was why Slayers walked the periphery of the world. It was why Archer had only become her friend after she was beyond the Guild’s reach.

Her eyes stung.