Archangel's Sun

43

Wondering if Titus had noticed the infant’s eyes yet, if he’d realized the import, she said, “Turn the little one over.”

Titus said nothing, but his big hands were careful as he turned the baby so that her back was exposed; Titus made sure to support the child’s head. It took only a splash of water to clear away enough of the slime to reveal wings. The translucent and soft wings of an angelic child, with no deformity or malformation. She took care as she cleaned all of the slime off those wings, then the rest of the child’s body.

The babe’s skin was a dark gold that echoed her father’s. It had been impossible to see the original hue of her mother’s skin under the reborn rot, but it had probably been similar to Charisemnon’s for the child to so closely echo the shade.

Only once the child had no trace of slime on its tiny body did she pick up the biggest towel and spread it out on the counter so Titus could place the child on it. With the still eerily silent little one lying on her back, she began to wipe down her skin. She kept her touch gentle, patting the water from her skin rather than rubbing. “See if you can find some powder. It’ll help her skin after all it’s been through.”

Titus hesitated.

“She can’t do anything to me, Titus. She doesn’t have any teeth, far less any claws.”

He left at last.

In the interim, Sharine picked up and rocked the child in her arms. “What are you, little one?”

The baby hiccupped . . . then, throwing back her head, wailed. Wailed as if she was being beaten, as if the world had done her the greatest insult.

“At least she has a strong voice,” Titus said in an approving tone as he walked in with several canisters of powder in hand. “I didn’t know which was the right one.”

“Hush, my sweet,” Sharine murmured, rocking the child—to no avail. Her face turned red under the gold of her skin, her sobs jerky in between the wails.

“Hah, she is stubborn. Give her to me.”

Placing the baby’s tiny body against his shoulder, Titus patted her back with firm motions that didn’t rub or otherwise abrade her fragile wings. A slew of hiccups before the wailing trailed off. “See?” Titus beamed proudly. “It’s not difficult.”

Sharine felt her lips twitch. He’d be insufferable if not for the sheer adorableness of this picture. And she couldn’t blame the babe for snuggling against him. Were Sharine in the mood to snuggle into any man, Titus’s broad shoulder would be at the top of the list. “I see you’ve done this before.”

“Many children call my court home.”

Once the child’s eyes had closed, her little form in a snuffling sleep, Titus laid her down on the towel again and Sharine put the powder on her. She massaged those little limbs as she did so, in the same way another mother had shown her to do with Illium when he’d been a babe.

The child was still fast asleep by the time she finished, and Sharine gathered her up in a soft new towel in lieu of a blanket before carrying her out. She knew the child couldn’t understand anything she might see, but she made sure to keep the little one’s face turned away from her mother’s already decaying body.

The reborn angel had melted in the time they’d been in the bathroom. Greenish fluid leaked from her every pore, and right then, her fingers degloved to bone, her flesh plopping to the floor.

“I wish you peace, child,” Sharine said before she walked out of the room.

Titus followed, pulling the door shut behind them. “I’ll leave the body instead of incinerating it.” No smile now, his features grim. “I need to call our scientists so they can begin the tests.”

“You’ll have to tell the Cadre about her, won’t you?” Sharine said, her arms protective around the child. “You know they’ll consider her a threat.”

“She could mean death for every angelic child,” Titus said gently. “But we will give her a chance. I’ll ask my scientists to test her blood against the infection and see if she carries within her a cure . . . or if she is a sweet-faced carrier, designed to slip under our guard.”

Sharine didn’t resist when he plucked the child from her arms. Holding the tiny body in one arm, he sighed. “She’s his child.”

So he’d noticed the eyes after all. “Yes. Does that make a difference?”

A lopsided smile. “Only that that ass’s behind managed one last trick.” Leaning in, he pressed a kiss to the baby’s forehead. “She is but a babe dreaming innocent dreams, and if she’s no threat, then I’ll raise her as I would any other orphaned child in my territory. I’ll also tell her of her mother’s brave heart, she who fought to stay alive so her child would live.”

When he raised his free arm, she went into his embrace, this man warm and strong and with a heart capable of incredible kindness. And she tried not to think of what would happen if the tests showed the child to be a carrier, the unknowing bringer of a devastating disease.

Two days later and Titus could tell that Sharine didn’t want anyone taking blood from the child, but she clenched her jaw and gritted her teeth and watched eagle-eyed until the deed was done.

The babe’s sobs soon turned into sniffles after Titus picked her up and patted her back, her little body snuggled against his shoulder. “You are a courageous one.” It was true—the child cried as would any child, but she also recovered quickly, her hands fisted as if in a stubborn refusal to surrender.

He knew he shouldn’t become attached to her, that he might yet have to execute her—and he knew damn well it’d destroy him to do so even if he hadn’t bonded with her. But he couldn’t suppress his feelings of affection. She was so tiny and so helpless. Some would say that made her the perfect weapon to annihilate the world.

“Is there any word?” Sharine asked, sweat dampening the hair at her temples and flecks of unknown substances on her tunic—she’d just come in from doing a shift watching over a ground team. “Does she carry the virus?”

“My scientists are having difficulty understanding what they see in her cells—hence the need to take more samples and confirm their findings.” He’d been blunt that they were to be careful with the blood they harvested, to not spend it too quickly. It was a baby, after all, from whose body they were drawing the samples.

The only reason he’d permitted it at all was because he had to give the Cadre a reason to allow this child to live. No one could force him to execute anyone in his territory—but were she the bearer of a plague, he wouldn’t have a choice. “Sometimes, being an archangel isn’t a gift,” he gritted out.

Sharine touched her hand to his upper arm, then reached up to stroke the baby’s back. “I don’t envy you, Titus. But I know that whatever you do, you’ll do with honor. This child will have the best possible chance with you as her champion.”

He dropped a kiss on the baby’s downy head and hoped he could uphold Sharine’s faith.

While the scientists worked, dressed in protective gear such as normally only used by mortals, the baby continued to live in the nursery inside Charisemnon’s court. Were she a carrier, to take her anywhere else risked spreading a disease. So Titus and Ozias had brought in everything the baby might need.

Sharine watched the child for multiple shifts, with Ozias volunteering to take the risk of infection and stepping in so they had another person in the rotation who could be with the infant without protective gear.

“No child should spend her first days in the world without the comfort of touch,” Titus’s spymaster had said firmly. “I know enough about babysitting after surviving all the children that have been raised in your court, sire, that I’m unlikely to kill the infant by accident.”

Needless to say, Ozias was a most unusual babysitter.

The one mercy was that Sharine had found confirmation in Charisemnon’s journal that the infection set in early and visibly, so the three of them only had a stand-down period of two hours after contact with the infant. After that, they were safe to return to the fight, sure they wouldn’t inadvertently carry the infection to Titus’s troops and staff.

On the evening of the fifth day since the child’s birth, Titus came by with dinner for Sharine and found the child asleep in her crib. As they ate, seated side by side on a sofa, Sharine asked for an update on the reborn situation; her last external shift had been twenty-four hours earlier, when she’d single-handedly saved three ground teams from being overwhelmed by a hidden nest.

Day by day, hour by hour, she was becoming ever more comfortable in her power and better able to direct it. Titus had the strong feeling they’d still only seen the tip of the iceberg—Sharine had plenty more surprises up her sleeve.

His people were over the shock of the Hummingbird not being at all what they’d expected, and were now well on the way to total adoration. Tough, loyal, and newly hard-of-heart Kiama often tracked her down for conversation, Titus’s harried cook somehow had the time to make a “little something” for her each day, and one of his lead vampiric commanders had threatened mutiny if Titus didn’t manage to hold on to her.

“I said nothing when you scared away the others,” India had said with a flash of fangs, “but, sire, I’ll surely rebel if you lose Lady Sharine.”

Tall and heavily built Amadou, a fellow senior commander, had nodded in solemn agreement.

Even Tanae had been moved to say, “I like her.” From his troop-trainer, that was praise unbounded.

“The extermination effort is continuing to pick up speed now that the hunters are out pinpointing nests.” Which was partly why he wanted to talk to her. “We’ve now gone so far out from our initial starting point that it makes no sense for me to fly back each morning, then fly forward again. I’ll be staying in the field for some time.”

“Do you need me to watch the babe full-time?”

“No, you’re too necessary in the field.” Sharine’s reserves were deep, her bolts of power of violent intensity. It had become clear over the time she’d been with them that she was stronger than Tzadiq—and Titus’s second was in the top tier of non-archangelic fighters.

“Do you think she knows she could’ve been a general?” Tzadiq had said to him the last time all three of them had been in the field at once, the pale green of his eyes following Sharine in the night sky as she protected the vampiric troops with precision fury. “People follow her, she has the martial power, and the quick-thinking intelligence.”

“I’ll ask her,” Titus had said, “but can you imagine a world without Sharine’s art?”

Tzadiq had paused to wipe off his gore-encrusted sword. “You’re right, sire. We have enough generals. We have only one Hummingbird.”

Today, however, Titus was forced to ask her to be the general and not the artist. “I need you to fly northward with Ozias’s squadron and two ground teams, clearing any reborn nests as you go. You’ll meet Alexander’s troops at some point, and the group of you can do a final comprehensive sweep of the north to make sure it’s clear.”

He didn’t want to send her away from him, but it was the best possible use of resources. Nala and Zuri also had the ability to fire energy bolts in their arsenal—adding Sharine’s firepower would make the team unstoppable against the numbers of reborn in the north. “Once the north is clear, I don’t have to worry about reinfection from that side.”

He paused, scowled. “Remember—don’t listen to anything my sisters say about me.”

A twitch of her lips, but her gaze was solemn. “What’ll happen to the babe with all three of us gone?”

“It appears she has charmed one of the scientists.” No surprise that—the babe smiled in her sleep and cried but rarely. “Asiah is more than willing and happy to watch the child without protective gear. The little one will be safe and tended while we are gone.”

“Asiah . . . yes, she’s the only one of the scientists I’d trust with her,” Sharine muttered. “She treats her like a baby rather than a science experiment.” Glancing at Titus, she put one hand on his thigh.

The muscle jumped, went rigid, his entire body focused on the heat of her. “Sharine.”

“Take care of yourself, Titus.” It came out an order. “Simply because you’re an archangel doesn’t mean you can go forever without a rest.” Then she leaned in and kissed him, and his abdominal muscles clenched, his pulse staccato.

Breaking the kiss before he could reach for her, she rose. “I’ll see you when our task is done.”

Titus had never ached as he watched a woman walk away from him, but he was one big bruise an hour later when Sharine took off into the early-evening sky with Ozias’s elite squadron. The ground teams had departed ahead of them.

Pressing a fisted hand to his heart, he watched her until she was invisible in the sky, then took off to join the southern squadrons. It took everything he had not to turn north, in her wake, but he was an archangel. His first duty was to his people and his territory. That didn’t mean he didn’t glance over his shoulder one more time, hoping to see wings of indigo and gold in the sky.

Sharine felt a wrench inside her as she flew away from Titus, and she wasn’t certain she liked it. At the same time, she couldn’t help from looking for his big, solid form in the courtyard. He was wearing his breastplate and other upper-body armor, his hands on his hips, and his wings held with exquisite control against his spine—and she was pretty sure he was scowling.

For some reason, that made her want to smile.

But then her squadron gained height and she could no longer pick him out in the land far below. The ache inside her becoming a knot heavy and hard, she angled her wings north and away from the archangel who’d come into her life at a time when she wanted no man in it in the romantic sense.

She’d thought before that Titus would leave a mark.

Now she knew that mark would be deep and painful and would hurt for a long, long time to come. But still she’d take the risk. No longer was she the Sharine who’d grown up scared and afraid, a child who’d tried to cling to her parents by being always good; the Sharine she was today shot fire from her hands, she made mistakes and learned from them . . . and she took risks.

Even when it involved a man as dangerous to her as Titus.

Ozias sounded the first alert two hours later—because they were pacing the ground troops, they hadn’t covered as much distance as an angel otherwise might, but this wasn’t about speed; it was about ensuring they unearthed every single reborn in the landscape.

“Guild Hunter marked that hill as the site of a small nest!” the squadron commander said in a tone that’d carry to all the airborne troops. “Obren, do a high flyover, report any movement. It’s after dark so they may have gone hunting and we’ll have to track them.”

Looking down, Sharine saw the ground vehicles setting up a perimeter, vampiric and mortal warriors stepping out with weapons ready. The ground commander, a grim-eyed vampire named Amadou, was at the forefront. The ground teams called themselves the “cleaners”—their task was to eliminate any reborn that got through the angelic barrage.

Thus far, they’d seen no new signs of an angelic reborn—though Titus had briefed all his senior people that it was a possibility—so angels remained less at risk from reborn than vampires or mortals. It made sense for them to be the first line of defense. And for Sharine to do everything in her power to ensure the reborn didn’t get a chance to harm any of the team.

“Commander.” Obren was back. “Definite movement at the mouth of the nest.”

Ozias raised a hand, dropped it in a hard sweep downward.

Acting as per their plan, Sharine blasted a hole in the hill, reborn scrambled out, and the angels took off their heads. The ground crew didn’t have to fire a single shot.

The second nest, however, proved to be a—

“Fuck, this is a fucking clusterfuck!”

Sharine had no idea which one of the vampires below had yelled that and even less knowledge of what it meant, but it sounded right. The Guild Hunter who’d pinpointed this site had been correct to say it was a big nest, but what the hunter hadn’t realized was that it was a maze of interconnected nests.

Some of which were behind the ground troops.

The creatures swarmed the ground troops while the angelic fighters were caught in furious battle against a massive knot of reborn in the center. Sharine was the only one still high enough in the air to see what was happening, how the reborn were spilling out of burrows everywhere and heading to attack the ground teams.

She thought quickly. Ozias! Get your squadron in the air and out to assist the ground teams. I’ll take care of the central core of reborn.

Ozias would’ve been in her rights to question Sharine; after all, Sharine was no battle strategist, but the spymaster’s squadron lifted off near instantaneously after Sharine made the request. They stayed low as they flew in all directions to help the ground teams.

The creatures in the middle screeched and began to run after them.

Sharine set her jaw and began blasting out her power in pinpoint strikes—she’d gotten much better at it since her first strike what felt like a lifetime ago and it didn’t take her long to create an effective moat around the reborn. The creatures fell into the hollow she’d created, and immediately began to try to climb out.

But her action had given the ground teams enough backup that they were able to move in and use their weapons to pick off the creatures. Sharine stayed high, and when she saw an angel fly too low and a reborn grab their wing to pull them down, she slammed a bolt into the reborn that evaporated its frame.

Peace be with you, she thought, for all these creatures had once been someone’s child, with dreams and hopes that would never now come to fruition.

The angel who’d gone down dusted himself off and waved to her in thanks.

And the battle continued.