Archangel's Shadows

31

Four hours after his visit to the Quarter, Dmitri finished his call with Astaad’s second—who had the bad taste to be sleeping with Michaela, but was otherwise sane—and walked up to the roof. He and Raphael needed to discuss the upcoming meeting with the vampire leaders.

As he’d predicted, the bloodlust had begun to cool the instant the order rippled through the vampire community. Seven of the leaders had contacted him already, the tremor in their voices barely hidden. “Please tell the sire I have taken care of the problem,” had been the message of each, though the exact words may have differed.

It was too little too late. What Raphael needed from Dmitri was to know the names of the worst offenders, the ones who had encouraged the lack of discipline through their own actions or inaction. It hadn’t taken Dmitri long to gather that information, not with the reports recently filed by Trace and Janvier, as well as input from Illium about the Made who wielded the most authority over others.

Dmitri had also had a long and interesting conversation with Adele that had clarified certain matters. She might refuse to join the Tower officially, but Adele’s loyalties were unquestionable—and she knew as well as he did that punishment could not be avoided once the crime had been committed. While Raphael wasn’t capricious or brutal without cause, he was also ruthless when it came to maintaining order in his territory.

Bloodlust equaled carnage. It would never be acceptable.

However, when Dmitri exited out into the glassed-in enclosure that housed the elevator, he was surprised to find Naasir and Elena on the other side. They were using the flat surface of the roof as a training ground and going at each other no holds barred. No, he thought after a second glance, that wasn’t true. Naasir wasn’t moving with anywhere near his ordinary speed.

It wasn’t because he’d been injured that morning—the wound had looked bad, but was comparatively minor relative to Naasir’s age and strength. No, it was because the two of them were still gauging each other’s strength.

“She calls him a tiger creature.”

Dmitri turned to the archangel who’d come up behind him. Raphael didn’t use the elevators, so he had to have used the stairs. That, too, was highly unusual. Dmitri guessed he hadn’t wanted to fly up, disrupting the practice session outside. “Well, she’s heading in the right direction.” Naasir’s Making was a unique and terrible thing. “He did actually tell her several truths at dinner.”

Lips curving, Raphael kept his eyes on Elena and Naasir. They were stepping it up now, Elena’s knives slicing faster as Naasir moved with a swift grace that was fascinating to watch. Venom was as fast, but more sinuous, with the startling and jagged speed of a viper. Naasir’s strikes were fluid, feline, and oddly stealthy for being so feral.

“She’s holding her own—that’s something.” Elena had once slit Dmitri’s throat on a busy Manhattan street, so the hunter had considerable skill, but she was up against a very dangerous vampire of over six hundred with nowhere to run; she couldn’t even take off fast enough to avoid Naasir. “You have warned Naasir that she’s not yet fully immortal?” The other male wouldn’t fatally hurt her on purpose, but he might not realize he was doing so without an advance caution.

“Yes.” Raphael’s smile deepened. “Even with having to restrain himself, he’s laughing. You know what that means.”

“He’s enjoying himself.” There were an extremely limited number of people who could put that look on Naasir’s face, especially in a sparring session. “It’s because she’s as unpredictable as he is. No rules, just do what’s needed.” That balanced out the fact that Elena wasn’t strong enough to take his blows at full strength.

“Her sessions with Janvier have honed that aspect of her hand-to-hand combat skills.”

“Good.” Dmitri was the one who’d recommended Elena train with Janvier. The Cajun was one hell of a street fighter and Elena needed every skill she could learn; a considerable number of people would like to see her dead. She was, after all, a living, breathing manifestation of Raphael’s heart.

Continuing to watch the session outside, he slipped his hands into the pockets of his black pants. “Trace got in touch earlier.” The elegant vampire with his taste for poetry and art had healed enough to take over the watch on Khalil a couple of hours back, only to have to hand it off to Emaya and Mateo forty-five minutes ago. “He found the Umber dealer—unfortunately, it appears the man’s head was separated from his body late last night.

“Trace believes his supplier didn’t like the fact that he couldn’t keep his mouth shut, and I agree with him.” Whoever was behind this did not want to be famous or to have his name known to the Tower. “The dealer himself was low-level scum who was in all probability chosen for his contacts among the bored and the rich. I don’t expect Trace to find anything to connect the dealer with his supplier.”

Raphael’s expression changed to the merciless focus that made him a member of the Cadre. “It’s no coincidence this drug has made its appearance now.”

“Yes. The weak fear what may yet come.” The clash in the skies above New York had only been the first battle. “But the malaise is generally restricted to the cowardly pleasure seekers who scuttled into hiding rather than fight.” Dmitri had been happy not to have to deal with their pathetic uselessness during the hostilities. “I am sorry about Rupert. He fought with courage. He must’ve taken the Umber in a moment of foolishness.”

“Is his death and devolution chilling the ardor for the drug?”

“On the surface, but to some, the incident has lent it a deadly glamour.” Russian roulette played with a crystalline substance, murderous bloodlust only a taste away. “If we don’t shut off the pipeline, we’ll have more incidents.”

Raphael’s eyes tracked Elena as she managed to swipe Naasir on the thigh, but got her wing twisted in the process. “A mistake,” he murmured. “She won’t do that again.”

They watched the two outside for another minute before returning to their conversation.

“There’s a chance this drug is another move by Charisemnon or a different member of the Cadre who seeks to weaken the city.” The intense black of Raphael’s hair gleamed blue-black in the light pouring through the glass. “I’ve spoken to Keir and he tells me a drug of such virulent effect on the Made would be near impossible to manufacture using known chemicals.”

Dmitri agreed, especially since their own labs were having difficulty analyzing the compound. “The latest tests say it has an organic rather than manufactured base, but that doesn’t get us much closer to breaking it down.”

“Jason?”

“He’s spread the word among his operatives—he’ll have a report for us tonight from the other courts. So far, Umber appears to be a localized problem.” Folding his arms, Dmitri met the violent blue of Raphael’s eyes. “Of the vampire leaders, Severin and Anais are the worst offenders. Both have fed violently in public in the past two weeks.” Not disallowed in and of itself, but a stupid choice at the present time.

The two had to have known their actions would embolden and incite others.

“It appears Anais and Severin wish to be my guests. Let’s accommodate them after the meeting,” Raphael said, his tone ice-cold. “The three of us will have a private discussion after I clear this Cadre matter.”

“Michaela is truly continuing to insist that Lijuan’s territory be taken and split up?”

“Yes, and now Charisemnon is threatening to declare war on her. No one is taking either one of them seriously, but it’s a nuisance that needs to be handled.”

“The Refuge?” Meant to be neutral ground, the home of angelkind and the sanctuary of their young had suffered sporadic fighting during Lijuan’s offensive. Galen and Venom had been forced to stay in the Refuge to defend Raphael’s stronghold there against attack.

“It is safe,” Raphael answered. “Michaela won’t make the same mistake as Lijuan. She’s far too smart and cunning, where Lijuan was arrogant.”

Dmitri understood the difference. One relied on power, the other on manipulation and playing the tides right. “In many ways, Michaela is the perfect political animal. The vicious, manipulative kind who’d sell out her own mother to gain points.”

“There is a reason you’re my second, Dmitri.”

“I was speaking to Dahariel earlier—I can’t imagine why a man as intelligent as he is slides into bed with her.”

“Have you told him that, like the spider that eats its mate, she has a habit of being the final woman her men ever touch?”

Dmitri felt his lips tug up at the corners. “I may have reminded him of the long-dead Archangel of Byzantium, and of the more recently departed Uram.” He pointed beyond the window, where Naasir had Elena backed up to the very edge of the roof. “Perhaps you should intervene.” An uncontrolled fall could smash her into the Tower.

“No, I think not.”

Elena swiped Naasir’s legs out from under him the next second and got herself back onto the main part of the roof. She was breathing hard, Naasir growling. Flipping over and to his feet, he clawed at her in seemingly undisciplined anger. Elena fell for it and was on the ground with Naasir’s hand at her throat a heartbeat later.

She slapped the cold, hard surface and Naasir released her, reaching down to help her up. From Naasir, that was a compliment—it meant he’d found his opponent worthy enough that he was sticking around. Otherwise, he’d just walk away.

“Naasir won’t want to leave.” The other man could work apart from the others of the Seven, but his nature rebelled against long-term isolation from his family. “Venom isn’t strong enough to permanently take his place in Amanat and we need the others here.” It meant that of all the Seven, Naasir was the only one who’d be on his own—and he’d already been that way for ten months.

“Naasir may not wish to go,” Raphael said, “but he will.” An archangel’s absolute confidence in one of his men. “He understands the need.”

“Does he have a lover at least?” Naasir didn’t do well without physical contact, especially when separated from Raphael and the others of the Seven, and his partner in Amanat, while lethal, was an ascetic who did not indulge in pleasures of the flesh.

Quiet amusement turned the Archangel of New York back into the man who had been Dmitri’s friend for a thousand years. “He is a wild creature in an elegant, civilized city. What do you think his chances are?”

“He’s drowning in women who’re fascinated with him.” No wonder Caliane was attempting to civilize him. “Your mother must fear he’ll tempt one of her maidens away into danger.”

“I’ve eased her mind on that point. Naasir may snack on the sweet and lovely, but when he chooses a mate, she will be a fierce creature with claws that bloody him and a heart as wild as his own.”

Laughing because Raphael was right, Dmitri watched as, outside, Naasir took two of Elena’s knives and pretended he didn’t know what to do with them so Elena would show him how. “Be careful, Raphael,” he said, well aware Naasir’s loyalty was as unflinching as his own. “The tiger creature is flirting with your consort.”

“Of course he is. She, too, is a fierce creature with a wild heart.” Raphael pushed through the door, his hand snapping up to catch the knife Elena threw in his direction.