Archangel's War

37

Elena broke the chill silence. “At least now we know how she’s doing it.” A glance at Raphael. “Could be in conjunction with another volunteer acolyte . . . or maybe she’s gone beyond that.”

“I will send an alert to those in charge. The people of China must be warned to get out of the way should they see such a fog.” Doing nothing in these circumstances wasn’t an option. “Dmitri, send the recording to others of the Cadre, under my seal.”

His second nodded and turned his attention to the task.

Raphael, meanwhile, asked Elena to walk outside with him.

Only once they were out on the edge of the railingless balcony, their city spread out below them like a toy creation, did he say, “Why did you allow Dmitri’s jibe to get to you?” It had disconcerted his second, too. Dmitri only acted the way he did with Elena because she gave as good as he dished out.

“It just struck me.” She stared out at the steel and glass and vibrancy of their city. “This craziness began with me—with a mortal turned angel. What if I was the catalyst for the Cascade? All this death and darkness and horror, it’d be on me.”

“It could as easily be said that Uram was the catalyst.” Raphael felt sorrow for the archangel he’d had to execute, an archangel who’d once been his friend, but he also knew that it’d had to be done. Uram had become a monster, one who gorged on death and whose murderous appetite would never be satisfied. “It’s what brought you into my life.”

Elena played a throwing knife through her fingers, the fading winter light glancing off the shining surfaces. “I try to tell myself that, but . . . I’m the wild card element in all of this. Archangels, angels, mortals, vampires, that was the world before me. Now we have an angel-Made.”

“Naasir would be most annoyed at you for forgetting him.”

But Elena’s gaze remained solemn. “Naasir and I should begin a club for all the ones who don’t quite fit on the taxonomic tree.”

“You were just the first whisper of the Cascade, Elena-mine. Not the catalyst, for no one can control such powers as are currently smashing the world, but the first sign that the Cascade had begun.”

Allowing him to haul her close, Elena stroked his skin . . . and jumped. “You’re a little electrified, lover,” she informed him, while continuing with her caresses. “I don’t know if I like being the first sign of impending doom any better.” A scowl. “Still, it beats being the cause.”

“What arrogance you have, Guild Hunter, to think you are the reason behind a tumult of power such as the world has never seen.”

“Jeez, you’re right.” She bumped her forehead against his chest. “I must sound so full of myself.”

He went to reassure her that he’d meant nothing of what he’d said, then paused. His words had worked. Not in the way he’d wanted, but they’d broken through the shadowy miasma that had threatened to encompass Elena. So he curved his hand around the side of her neck and said, “It is the curse of immortality. You must watch against further development.”

She tilted back her head. “Fiend.” She “punched” him in the side, the touch featherlight. “Also, Dmitri’s now one point up on me. Ugh.”

“You’ve forgotten the kiss.”

Her eyes brightened at the reminder of Dmitri’s utter horror. Satisfaction curling her lips, she pressed a kiss to his chest, shivered. “Yep, still electrified.”

“And filthy. Come.” He rose up into the air as night licked the horizon. “You can wash my back.”

Elena put on soft gray pajama pants after a delicious bath with Raphael, topping them with an equally soft tank in a darker gray and a deep blue hoodie—both designed with wing slits. The hoodie boasted a sparkly silver unicorn on the left breast, while on the back were printed the words: Wait, I have to park my unicorn.

“I miss the time when unicorns roamed the earth.”

“Very funny, Archangel.” She knew that glint in his eye by now. “Beth got this for me after Maggie picked it out.”

“Talking of gifts.” Wearing only a pair of faded sweatpants that hung precariously on his hips, Raphael plucked out a small box from inside their private weapons locker.

Elena’s breath caught. Slipping a hand under her pillow, she withdrew her own small box. “I was going to spring it on you in bed.”

Raphael’s wings began to glow.

Opening his box, he held it out. The last time, it had been small amber hoops appropriate for a working hunter. This time, it was studs: one an amber crossbow bolt with a heart of white fire, the other a tiny crossbow that must’ve taken an artisan days to craft. She held her breath as he inserted first one, then the other through ears she’d had pierced a couple of weeks ago.

Neither of them spoke as she opened her own box. A ring because Raphael wasn’t much for other forms of jewelry. A heavy titanium band scored with a pattern that echoed the gunshot scar on his wing, a roughly square chunk of amber in the center. An explosion of white fire had been caught in the amber, the edges pale gold.

The one thing that wasn’t new was the word inscribed on the inside: Knhebek.

Raphael held out his hand and she slipped it on.

A sigh whispered out of her. She hadn’t known how much she missed this small sign of their entanglement until now. “I saved the rest of the amber.”

“For the next time we blow up ours?”

“The rate we’re going . . .” That was when she caught a glow on the horizon out of the corner of her eye. “Don’t look now but I think something’s happening.”

Of course, they both headed outside. Elena hugged her arms around herself as they stepped out into the cold. Her hoodie wasn’t meant for outdoor temperatures. Raphael, bare chested, tugged her against that chest and the two of them stood in the winter cold night while an eerie light came to life over the water, the colors of it blood red.

“Illium told me that at least the sea wasn’t turning blood red.”

“Now he’s jinxed us.” She watched transfixed as the light came closer and closer. “Shall we—”

“No, your Bluebell has already taken a squadron out for the initial reconnaissance.”

Raphael kept thinking he should know about this light, a faint whisper of memory at the back of his mind.

Sire, Illium said. The water around the light is clear and I just saw a bird fly into it and return with no apparent ill effects. The light isn’t coming from the sky but rising from the ocean.

Continue to watch. Raphael trusted nothing about the Cascade. Do not enter it.

Elena’s owls are dancing around in the colors of it.

“Guild Hunter, you will have to unpark your unicorn. It appears this is for you.” He told her of the owls.

“Cassandra?” A quiet tension in her voice. “Let’s go find out.”

It took them only a short time to get into gear more suitable for a night flight and head out. Elena took only minimal weapons—which for her meant her crossbow, the bolts, and enough throwing blades to set up a knife shop.

When Raphael saw how many other curious angels were heading toward the luminescence, he ordered everyone but the squadron to fall back.

Obedience was immediate.

Wow.

Raphael had to agree with Elena’s awed whisper. He’d been alive an eon longer than her and he’d never seen such a sight. What had seemed blood red from the Tower proved to be a complex blend of colors, true red only at the very top edge. Even there, it wasn’t blood red but a deep pink red.

That shade faded into a softer pink; the colors that rippled below it were blues and greens and golds and so many other hues that he didn’t have names for all of them. It is like an aurora on the ocean. A lovely vision thrown up from the depths.

How high does it go?

Raphael flew up, and up. As high as the Tower. Arrowing back down to hover beside Elena, he watched the owls dance over and through the light and, despite his suspicions of the Cascade, could find nothing threatening in the sight. It was an artwork given life, a song painted in color and light.

Raphael. I have Jessamy on the line. Dmitri’s confident dark-edged voice. I’ve asked her if she’s heard of this phenomenon.

Tell her that it appears peaceful at first glance. The owls are certainly happy with it. It may be linked to Cassandra.

A pause, during which he and Elena winged along this side of the sea aurora. Bathed in that light, Elena’s wings shimmered a stunning array of color, a mix of her own and the aurora. When she reached out a careful hand toward the light, he went to stop her, but it was already too late.

The light painted the canvas of her skin but it didn’t stick, her hand unblemished when she drew it back. Sorry, I shouldn’t have done that but I felt so safe. A glance at the owls. I think they know this isn’t harmful.

Raphael sliced his wing through the light. There is energy here. A power. It resonated deep within him. But I sense no malevolence.

The sea aurora was moving steadily toward his city. Dmitri, do you have anything?

Jessamy just found a reference to a “dream of light and color over the ocean.” It’s in an ancient text that vaguely mentions Cassandra—Wait. Thirty seconds passed. Here’s the quote: “And in that dream of light and color over the ocean danced the seer’s wings. The two are ever entwined and never together. One of light and dreams, the other of blood and prophecies.” Make sense to you?

I’m afraid it might.

Elena, now close to him, said, “Why the look?”

He told her what Dmitri had just said and watched her work it through. A tiny frown dug its way between her brows. “One of light and dreams, the other . . .” A widening of her eyes. “Shit. Another waking Ancient?”

“That seems to be the unavoidable explanation.”

“Fuck.”

“Yes.” Aegaeon had stirred in Astaad’s territory, Cassandra was in a fitful Sleep at best, and now this. “For the time being, however, it doesn’t appear to be dangerous. I will allow our people to view it as long as they follow the squadron’s orders.”

Angelic silhouettes lifted up from roofs and balconies and streets all over the city as Elena and Raphael flew back. A number of seacraft began to chug their way toward the light.

Dmitri and Venom were waiting on the Tower roof and Raphael angled that way, Elena beside him. The snow on the roof softened the sound of their landing, and the light, when they turned to look back at it, remained as beautiful and as eerie.

Venom came to stand beside Elena, Dmitri beside Raphael.

“I took a call while Dmitri was talking with Jessamy.” Venom slipped his hands into the pants pockets of his deep gray suit. “It was from Charisemnon’s second.” His lip curled up at the mention of the archangel who’d caused the Falling, crashing angels to the ground all over New York. “Images of the light phenomenon have already spread around the world. He called to ask if we believed an archangel was waking.”

Raphael spread his wings, closed them with slow deliberation. “That’s a highly specific question.”

“I pointed that out. Response was that a remote lake in their region has just frozen over—within it are millions of translucent bubbles, the colors intimately similar to our aurora over the sea.” He passed across his phone. “Pure luck anyone found it—a senior angel decided to take the long way home.”

“Wow again,” Elena said.

“Indeed.” The water was a glossy sheet, the bubbles below pristine and perfectly formed. Air caught in ice. “Do they know if this occurred at the same time as the sea aurora?”

A shake of Venom’s head. “I got the impression they discovered it a couple of days ago, but kept it quiet.” No surprise in his tone at such behavior from Charisemnon’s court.

“I can see why they think the two incidents are connected.” Elena handed back Venom’s phone. “Those are distinctive colors in the bubbles and in the light.”

“How many Ancients can the world sustain?” Dmitri folded his arms across his chest. His black shirt rippled in the cool wind coming off the water in the distance.

“We are currently nine. The tenth should be an archangel not an Ancient, but the world will not break if we are three Ancients.” He seemed to recall a long-ago history lesson in Jessamy’s classroom that mentioned a Cadre with three Ancients.

“After that, Ancients who awaken will cause major disruption and chaos unless we lose several current members of the Cadre.” Their powers would be too close together, the energies too violent—and the old tended to be set in their ways, not ready for this new world. “It’ll make the Cascade look like a training run.”

Elena sucked in a breath. “That bad?”

“We survived with eleven before because Mother did not want territory and China is so huge that Favashi was far distant from her. We can rely neither on a lack of territorial desire nor geography with any new archangels or Ancients.” His mother was a unique case in not wishing to rule a vast area.

“You’ve seen how much violence two archangels can do in battle.” Raphael and Uram had nearly destroyed New York. “Now imagine that happening between more than two archangels, the battles taking place in multiple locations around the world at the same time.”

Elena’s gaze returned to the sea aurora. “You can be an Ancient and not be an archangel, right?”

“Yes. But any Ancient who awakens with natural phenomena such as this is an archangel.” The light continued to hang over the sea, seeming to ripple in the wind, a gentle music.

Dmitri’s phone rang. He glanced at it. “It’s Rhys.”

A senior general in Neha’s territory.

He stepped away to take the call, returned to say, “Delhi is glowing. Some kind of bioluminescence. Rhys is sending me images.”

“If this is all the same Ancient,” Elena said, “then I kinda like them already. I mean, pretty lights, cool bubbles in a lake, glowing cities, seems pretty mellow to me.”

Raphael stared out at the water, not certain it was all connected to one Ancient. “The bioluminescence strikes me as different from the two water-based phenomena.”

“Rhys has understatement down pat.” Dmitri flipped his phone in their direction.

“It looks like the aliens came and irradiated everything.” Elena whistled through her teeth.

When Dmitri’s phone rang just as he drew it back, Raphael said, “Which second is it now?”

“Not a second but might as well be—it’s that creep, Riker. I don’t know why Michaela keeps him around. He’s a vicious fucker.”

“He’s also viciously loyal to her,” Raphael said as Dmitri stepped away again.

His second just held out his phone when he returned: on it was the image of an old European city, possibly Prague, backed by a sky in which swirled a slow spiral of stars. A new galaxy being born.

It wasn’t the final portent.

By dawn, New York was in the grip of a huge storm that coated the city in ice, and the list had grown to include intricate crop circles in Titus’s land, a rainstorm in Japan that turned the country a bright magenta, large standing rocks erupting out of the earth in Alexander’s territory—some through the floors of buildings—and last but not least, an impossible blooming of wildflowers across frozen Siberia.

If each represented an Ancient—or even simply an archangel . . . Death. It was death.