Archangel's Shadows

43

Titus arrived with only three warriors the night before the block party was scheduled to begin. Elena didn’t have to be told that the small unit was both a gesture of trust and a display of his confidence in his own strength. Folding in his wings as he landed on the Tower roof, his warriors coming down behind him—two males and one female—Titus headed toward Elena and Raphael.

“Titus.” Raphael walked forward to meet the other man halfway and held out his arm. “You are welcome.”

Titus grabbed Raphael’s forearm, Raphael’s own hand closing over his in the clasp of warriors. “I am glad you are here to welcome me, Raphael,” he said, his words a boom that made Elena realize the archangel usually modulated his voice so as not to drown out everyone else in his vicinity. “You are a pup, but a strong one I’d have at my back in any battle.”

“And I would have you, though you are heading toward frail old age.”

Titus’s laugh at Raphael’s riposte was huge. “Well met, young pup. Well met.”

Breaking the handclasp with a deep smile, Raphael turned to Elena. “My consort.”

She stepped forward. “Archangel Titus,” she said, keeping it formal until he gave an indication that informality was welcome.

Her restraint was thanks to Jessamy. Elena had been in Remedial Protocol School that afternoon, since this was the first time she was welcoming an archangel to her city who had no consort and who was unrelated to Raphael, but who’d known Raphael as a boy and had, in fact, helped train him.

All of which, apparently, changed everything.

At this rate, she thought with an inward snort, she’d have the protocol thing sorted in, oh, another nine hundred years, give or take. “You made good time.”

Titus made his reply in the softer tone she was used to hearing from him. “A good wind.”

“If you and your people would follow us,” she said, hoping Raphael was right and Titus was laid-back enough that she could soon drop the protocol crap. It was making her head ache. At least she hadn’t had to put on a gown for this. “We have prepared suites for you.”

“A short moment to wash, nothing more,” Titus said. “I would explore your city. It has been an age since I have visited these lands.”

Elena led the group over the side of the roof and down to a guest balcony where Dmitri was waiting. He greeted Titus with the familiarity of old acquaintance and mutual respect, then led the escort through to their rooms, while Elena showed Titus to his. Turned out that since Raphael had a consort, he couldn’t do certain tasks himself if she was able, without it being taken as an insult.

“I hope everything is to your liking,” she said to Titus.

He surprised her by throwing back his head and laughing with the smile-inducing lack of inhibition she’d already come to expect from him. “Ah, you must forgive me,” he said when he caught his breath. “I see this role sits ill on you—you are meant for battle, not for such niceties.”

Elena grinned. “I can rock a dress when I put my mind to it.”

“Perhaps I will see this at the celebration you have planned.”

“You never know.” Walking forward, she held out her arm as Raphael had done, saying, “I’m not yet as immortal as you,” at the last minute as she remembered Raphael’s warning about Titus treating her as a blooded angelic warrior.

Titus clasped her forearm. It was hard enough to jar her teeth, but not hard enough to break anything. “You will be,” he said. “Then I will say I knew you when you were a fledgling.” Another huge laugh. “As I knew your consort when he was a pup.”

Leaving him to freshen up, she stepped out to join Raphael on the balcony. “You were right,” she said. “I like him. He’s like a hunter—only much more powerful.”

“You should trust your consort.”

Sliding her wing over his, she leaned her shoulder against his. “I wish the thing with Cornelius and Giorgio hadn’t happened, that we could go into this celebration without that ugliness.” Her heart hurt for Ash, too, though the other hunter seemed to have a serene peace inside her when it came to the loss of her brother and sister.

She’d returned Elena’s fierce hug after the funerals, murmuring, “Don’t be so sad, Ellie. Your sisters aren’t trapped in that house; they’re flying on their own wings.”

Elena couldn’t explain how Ash knew that the funerals had brought back visceral memories of the deaths of her own sisters, or how she knew about the horror that had taken them, but Elena held the other woman’s words close to her heart. Ash had always glimpsed more than anyone should, seen beyond this world. If she said Ariel and Mirabelle were no longer imprisoned in the blood-soaked house that had once been their childhood home, then Elena could do nothing but believe it.

Raphael slid his arm around her waist. “I feel your sorrow.”

“Just working through stuff,” she said, her emotions heavy but not agonizing. “Thinking about how some people are so kind and generous, others the opposite.” Not many would’ve reached out across their own grief to ease that of another, as Ash had done for her, and it was a kindness Elena would never forget. “The world would be a better place if we could erase all the Corneliuses and Giorgios from it.”

“I’ve lived long enough to understand that there will always be some ugliness in the world.” Raphael stroked a tendril of hair that had escaped her braid back behind her ear. “We cannot erase it, for it acts as the foil for joy, for goodness.”

“I guess I’m not old enough to accept that yet.” It didn’t matter that Cornelius and Giorgio were currently serving out their brutal and ongoing punishments in distant underground bunkers. “I feel so much fury for the pain caused, the scars left on the hearts of good people.”

“Never lose that part of yourself, Elena.” Raphael’s eyes held a lick of wildfire in their depths that spoke of the changes going on inside him. “Before you, I had become jaded, unable to see the light or the dark. It is not an existence to which anyone should aspire.”

Rubbing her cheek against his hand, she said to hell with shocking their guest should he step outside and drew her archangel down for a kiss. “To life.”

“To life, hbeebti.”

Ashwini sat with her legs hanging off the edge of the Tower roof, watching the revelers on the rooftops around them and in the streets far below. Music came from every side, merging and mixing and becoming a wild, vibrant melody. Wings passed overhead, the area a sea of angels landing on roofs and on the tarmac as they joined in the celebration in different areas.

Illium flew down to the under-renovation Legion building right then, the silver in his wings shimmering in the lights beaming out of the Tower. The Legion fighters were, for the most part, sitting in crouched positions on different parts of the Tower. Ashwini hadn’t yet figured out if they were bemused by the entire thing or fascinated.

A male head was suddenly in her lap, hair of liquid silver on the black of her jeans.

“You’ll fall,” she said to Naasir, petting his hair as she knew he wanted.

“No, I won’t,” he said easily, staying stretched out on the edge. “I came to see you. I never had any brothers or sisters, but I would be angry and sad if something happened to my people . . . like it did to Aodhan once.” Silver eyes held her own. “I’ll fight with you if you want.”

The offer, she knew, was genuine. He’d allow her to cut him up if it would make her feel better. Because she was one of Naasir’s people now. As he was part of her family. Affection had her pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Thank you, but I think I’m okay,” she said through her lingering sorrow at Tanu and Arvi’s loss.

Knowing that they had wanted to go didn’t change the hole in her heart, didn’t make it any less painful to accept the fact that she’d never again witness Tanu’s acerbic wit or hear Arvi’s voice. What did help were the people around her. Like the wild creature in her lap and the hunters who were the family she’d created. They’d stood shoulder to shoulder with her as she laid her siblings to rest, done a thousand small things to make it more bearable.

And Janvier . . . he’d been her rock throughout, solid, protective, and unwavering. She didn’t know how she would continue to function, to exist, if anything ever happened to him, and in that agony of thought, she’d finally understood his own stubborn refusal to stay after she was gone. That didn’t mean she planned to accept it. He had a wild, beautiful, adventurous eternity ahead of him and she’d fight to make sure he claimed it.

“This is a fun party,” Naasir said into the lazy quiet between them, the repetitive motion of stroking the cool silver of his hair having relaxed her as much as it had him. “I think Ellie should be in charge of all immortal parties.”

Ashwini laughed at the idea of Ellie let loose on stuffy angelic balls. “Go have some of that fun,” she urged him, conscious he was returning to Amanat in twenty-four hours. She’d miss him, might have to bag herself a hunt in Japan so she could swing by for a visit. “I saw the pretty little angel with the auburn hair giving you the eye earlier. She’s over there trying to scorch me to a crisp with her mind, if you want to go soothe her feelings.”

“No,” Naasir said definitively. “I want a mate and I’ve decided to go hunting for her. The little angel didn’t smell like her.”

Ashwini felt a twinge of sympathy for all the smitten women he’d be smelling and rejecting until he found his mate. “You realize it can take time? You can’t force it.”

Eyes closing under her continued petting, he made a rumbling sound in his chest. “A mate would do this for me.”

Her lips quirked. “Yes. Or you might do it for her.”

Eyes flicking up, Naasir grinned, his fangs flashing in the light. “Does Janvier pet you?”

She pulled at his nose.

He laughed and, bending one leg at the knee, closed his eyes again, the silver fan of his lashes vivid against the rich brown of his skin, the undertone a gorgeous, warm gold. At that instant, she almost imagined she saw faint stripes underneath. Startled, she stared . . . to see his usual skin. Strokable enough to have women begging to touch him, but otherwise normal for Naasir.

Clearly, Ellie’s “tiger creature” theory was starting to affect her subconscious.

“Where’s Janvier?”

“Catching up with friends.” Those bonds were important to them both. “Why have you suddenly decided you want a mate?”

Naasir stretched lazily before settling back into his previous position. “I’m old enough now, and I want someone to play with like you play with Janvier and Raphael does with Elena. Even Dmitri plays with Honor.” This seemed to fascinate him. “The rules are secret in each game. I want to have secret rules with a woman who . . .” A long pause. “A woman who knows me, understands what I am, and who wants to have secret rules with me.”

It was a very Naasir definition of love and it was wonderful. “I think your mate will be a lucky woman.”

Naasir’s gaze was oddly solemn when he lifted his lashes. “I’m different, Ash. Deep inside. I’ll never be like other men.”

“I’m different, too,” she whispered. “Janvier loves me exactly as I am.” As she did him, stubborn Cajun will or not.

Elena took a seat beside Izak where the injured angel lay propped up in a bed next to a large window that gave him a great view of the partiers on the roof to the left, as well as of the angels flying back and forth. “I brought you something.” She lifted the saucer holding a piece of cake. “Red velvet with cream cheese icing.”

Izak’s smile was shy. “My arms . . .”

“You have me.” She scooped up a bite of cake, using the fork she’d brought with her, and fed it to him, aware of the fact his body had prioritized the healing of his skull and his spinal cord over broken bones. “So?”

Swallowing, he said, “How did you know it was my favorite?”

“I know everything. I also know Montgomery.”

He laughed, and it was a brilliant sound, the light back in his eyes. “You shouldn’t be taking care of me. I’m going to be in your Guard.”

“Who made that rule?” Feeding him another small bite, she said, “Way I hear it from Hannah—who, as you pointed out in your pitch, already has a Guard and is thus an expert—while my Guard is meant to be my shield if necessary, I’m also meant to ensure they have what they need. Right now, you need cake.”

The young angel grinned this time. He truly was adorable. It was going to be difficult for her to treat him as a warrior, but she figured she’d just handle him as a hunter in training until he grew up a little more. “I smuggled in something else for you.” Glancing around to make sure the healers weren’t paying any attention to them, she took out a small bottle from the ankle sheath that usually held a gun.

Opening it, she slid in a straw she’d concealed down the side of a knife sheath and held the drink to his lips. “Sip,” she ordered before he could take a long draw. “It’s Illium’s secret recipe and it’s lethal.”

Eyes brightening, he took a drink and went, “Whoa.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said. Lots of angels drinking and flying today—I hope none of them fall into the Hudson.”

Izak laughed. “Alcohol wears off very fast in angelic bodies. I don’t think it has any effect on angels as old as Aodhan and Illium.”

“No wonder he makes it so strong.” She cut Izak off when he became a touch too smiley. “Let’s wait for it to wear off on you before you have the rest.” Baby that he was, half a bottle was clearly plenty for Izzy.

“Janvier told me Titus is here.”

Elena leaned in close. “You didn’t hear it from me,” she whispered, “but last I saw, Titus was carousing in the street, kissing a different willing woman every five minutes.” More than one human was going to wake up the next day with a surreal memory she’d probably put down to too many shots. “And—Hmm, I’m not sure I should be saying this to such tender ears . . .”

“What?” His eyes went huge. “I want to know.”

Far too adorable. It was ridiculous. “Well,” she said in a conspiratorial tone, “I’m pretty sure there are shenanigans going on high in the sky tonight.” Anyone who had a telescope pointed up toward the stars might just get an eyeful.

“People are dancing?” A small pout. “I want to be outside.”

Shoulders shaking, because he was clearly still feeling the effects of Illium’s concoction, she patted his face. “You’ll have plenty of opportunities to seduce and be seduced, Izzy.”

“Can I have more cake?”

She fed the remaining half to him. His eyes were starting to flutter shut by the end, and when she rose to her feet, he was in a peaceful sleep. Pressing a kiss to his cheek, she glanced at the doorway to see Keir exchanging an intimate look with a heavily muscled male warrior. The warrior angel’s hand was curved around the side of Keir’s neck, his head bent toward Keir’s shorter and more slender form. Whatever he said made the healer laugh before he slipped out of the warrior’s hold and into the infirmary.

Seeing Elena, he came over. “You look puzzled, Ellie.”

“I am. Last time I saw you with anyone”—back in the Refuge—“it was a woman.” And he, without a doubt, had stubble burn on the dusky skin of his throat right now. Which meant he’d been getting frisky only seconds before she saw him; Keir was too old for the mark not to have faded otherwise.

Smile gentle, he said, “I have been alive thousands of years, have learned that love does not always wear a single face.” A warmth in his eyes. “Ah, but it will for you, will it not?”

“Yes.” Raphael was her heart, would always be her heart. “So, you’re a player?” She sighed. “All this time, I thought you were a nice guy. I introduced you to my single friends, like that sweet squadron leader.”

His laugh soft, he allowed his wing to brush hers. “If I could find what you have with Raphael, I would stop playing. Until then, I will share pleasure with smaller loves—perhaps even your rather lovely squadron leader.” Reaching down to tug a blanket over Izzy, he said, “The boy is doing well. I think he is even more in love with you, however.”

“A little cake and punch and everybody loves me.” Leaving him with a kiss on his cheek, she went to talk to an angel who was down with severed legs, but was able to sit up on her own. She had a drink in her hand and a plate of goodies on the table next to her. “This celebration was a wonderful idea, Ellie.”

Before the battle, none of the squadron but Izak had called her Ellie. It was a welcome change. “How are the legs?” she said, able to ask as she could a fellow hunter.

“It hurts, but the injuries are healing faster than anticipated.” The woman’s dark eyes went to where Raphael was speaking with two other wounded fighters, one an angel, the other a vampire. “The sire is responsible for that.”

Elena didn’t nod, didn’t need to. Raphael’s ability to heal remained nascent, but it was shaving days, sometimes weeks off the recovery time of the injured. According to Keir, what Raphael was doing wasn’t healing as he knew it. Keir’s current theory was that Raphael was sharing power.

Lijuan, Elena thought, shared death. Raphael shared life.

His eyes met hers across the width of the room at that instant, and she saw pride burning in his gaze, the same pride that filled her veins. For their people, who had survived the unimaginable with their spirits intact; for their city, that had stood strong against an unprovoked attack. There was no need for either of them to articulate that. They saw and understood each other in a way few people ever did, mortal or immortal.

For her, love would only ever have a single face, and it was his.