Archangel's War

59

Raphael’s statement froze Elena’s veins. Their city couldn’t handle an infestation, not with Lijuan at their doorstep.

Then her archangel’s lips curved in a smile that was deadly. All those shipments are sitting on a cargo ship anchored far off the coast—and crewed by Tower personnel. Your friend with the third eye told Dmitri that she didn’t think they had good “feng shui.”

Feng shui? Ash said that? Elena laughed, the relief a sweet rush. And he listened to her?

We have all learned to listen to what comes out of Ashwini’s mouth. Dmitri quarantined the containers at such a distance offshore that there is no chance the insects could make it to land even if released.

You going to order that ship blown up?

It can wait until we can burn it to ash, eliminating any risk of insectoid survivors. He led Elijah’s forces to a skyscraper beside Central Park. A team overseen by Elena and Raphael’s architect, Maeve, had turned the plush building into barracks within an incredibly short period. It helped that the entire operation had been preplanned as part of their war strategy—Central Park had always been in the frame. At the moment, it was being used to muster Raphael’s forces, but there was plenty of room for Elijah’s people, too.

Supply lines with enough capacity to sustain both armies were running smoothly, with multiple fail-safes in place. A number of strong angels loyal to Raphael were in charge of feeding and protecting those lines. It wasn’t only a matter of food and water, but of replacement weapons and gear.

“A war,” Galen had said at one point, “can be won or lost on supply.”

Elijah’s squadrons began to land, while his ground troops filled up the streets leading to Central Park. New York’s forces had just swelled in size by a considerable margin . . . but even combined, their numbers were a fraction of Lijuan’s.

That they still held the city was a miracle.

A fact made even clearer when she, Elijah, Hannah, and Raphael walked out onto a balcony below the war room. Dmitri had come out here to discuss a strategy with Andreas’s elite squadron. A feather of delicate topaz drifted down as that squadron took off before they reached Dmitri.

“Sire.” Dmitri bowed his head.

Elena almost misstepped at the unexpected formality. Then she got it. It was because of Elijah, a show of respect from a second to his archangel. When he wasn’t being a dick, Dmitri was scarily likable.

Truth to tell, Elena wanted him to pull a scent trick or shoot off a sarcastic remark—it’d mean things were back to normal and they could snipe at each other without worrying about the zombie-creating Goddess of Death camped on their doorstep.

Today, Dmitri turned to indicate the current battle zone. Fires continued to burn in the distance, while in the sky raged a winged battle as Lijuan’s forces attempted to stop the oil drops.

“At this stage, we’ve lost no more winged fighters,” he told Raphael, “though a few are wounded. Several of the ground crew were burned when they went too close to the flames to finish off a reborn, but all are vampires.”

Elena started breathing again. A lot of her Guild friends were down there. Others were on teams of archers or shooters positioned on rooftops. A small and select number would, by now, be sitting still and silent in sniper nests right in the thick of enemy territory.

Demarco was one of them.

Elena’s stomach hurt. They’d planned this, she reminded herself. During the rebuild after the last battle, they’d created secret hidey-holes accessible via concealed “service shafts” inside buildings. Those shafts linked directly with the tunnel system, so their people could get safely into enemy territory—then wreak havoc from the inside.

Each of the nests had clear visibility of the landscape outside.

As if he’d heard her, Dmitri said, “One of our snipers was able to take out a powerful vampire general in the chaos after the last skirmish. No one noticed. He was dumped on the flesh pile.”

That comment necessitated an explanation of Lijuan’s horrific feeding habits. It made Hannah raise a trembling hand to her mouth and turn into Elijah’s embrace. The Archangel of South America was rigid as he held her close, streaks of angry red on his cheekbones.

“We received a fresh report from India,” Dmitri said while the couple tried to digest the ugly information. “The stream of infected children isn’t stopping. It’s as if Lijuan turned the entire child population of her territory into . . . whatever these children have become.” His neck was stiff and a tic pulsed in his jaw. “Not vampire or reborn but an amalgam.”

Light sparked off a pair of wings in the distance, right before a bolt that glittered like shattered gemstones slammed into a squadron of Lijuan’s fighters. Aodhan, Elena thought, just as one of the angels in their squadron took a direct hit and began to spiral down from a catastrophic height. If his head separated from his body . . .

Wings of shattered light in her vision.

Aodhan had caught the falling angel. Elena exhaled . . . right as another bolt, the color shining copper, came from the other direction. It was going to slam into Aodhan. There was no way it could miss—he couldn’t move fast enough with the weight of the other angel in his arms.

Elena wasn’t aware of running or flying, but she was suddenly in the air beside him. She slammed herself into him, her body acting out of old knowledge learned from hundreds of hunts.

The bolt of power singed the tips of her hair as it went past to slam into the side of a high-rise. It blew out the windows in a cascade of glass, some of the small square pieces hitting Elena. Tiny jewels that were designed not to cut but they hurt all the same at that velocity.

Aodhan had already passed the wounded angel to another fighter, was turning to fire back at the enemy. Elena dropped out of the battle zone. Sparkle needed to fight, not worry about protecting her. She landed behind a row of shooters on a rooftop.

Glancing back toward the Tower, she said, Sorry, Archangel. Terror would’ve gripped him when he realized what she’d done, where she was. I’m fine, no damage.

The sea crashed into her mind, the salt spray of it a familiar kiss. I’m certain you just saved Aodhan’s life—bone-chilling fear is a price I’ll pay with no complaints. That bolt came from Philomena, one of the few of Lijuan’s generals who doesn’t depend on her mistress’s power. She’s strong enough to have ended him with that hard a hit.

Her hands shook as she brushed back her hair. That they could’ve lost Aodhan so quickly . . . Since I’m here anyway, she said, forcing calm because anything else could be deadly in battle, I’ll give someone a break.

Scanning the shooters, she noticed one who was moving a little slower than the others and tapped him on the shoulder. “Hiraz. You want a break?”

“Yes, Consort.” Sweat dripping down his temples, he turned away and let her take his position. He was wearing a camo green T-shirt and cargo pants in black. It was the first time she’d seen the senior vampire in anything but a button-down shirt and suit pants. The T-shirt had gone dark, was stuck to his skin.

The two things that hadn’t changed were the wedding ring on his right hand and the expert cut of his hair—currently black with streaks of bronze. She’d woken from the chrysalis to the news that his lover, Jenessa, had proposed.

He’d accepted on the condition they wait to marry until ten years after her transition to vampirism. In the interim, he’d wear the wedding ring she’d chosen on his right ring finger instead of his left. Elena didn’t think Jenessa would change her mind, but she liked Hiraz for thinking first of the woman he’d saved from a life on the streets, and not just his own need.

After catching his breath, he said, “My relief was badly wounded soon after taking her position.”

So he’d effectively done a double shift. It put the continued speed and accuracy of his shooting in a whole different light. “Get some rest,” she said to him. “I can spot you for a while.”

“I’ll be back soon. I just need a blood boost.” Shifting into a low crouch, he headed out of the live fire area.

Elena had already begun to pick off enemy fighters with precision shots of the surface-to-air weapon that could fire both single shots and a burst. It wasn’t her favorite, but she’d trained on it because she knew it’d be used during battle. She’d made sure to update that training the instant she recovered enough after the chrysalis.

Given that she was a—limited—backup power source for Raphael, Dmitri had fought hard to have her stay safe in the Tower and out of the fighting. Elena had pushed back as hard. That was not who she was—and having the consort and “hunter angel” MIA from the field of battle would demoralize their people.

Raphael had agreed with her.

Her archangel understood what drove her, she thought as she targeted an enemy angel aiming his crossbow at the wings of their fighters. He’d already badly wounded one; the angel was only alive because Aodhan had managed another air rescue. Before today, she hadn’t known how fast Sparkle could fly—his speed tended to be eclipsed by Bluebell’s.

“Fuck you, you asshole.” She fired. Her shot hit the enemy angel in the eye, exactly as she’d planned. Screaming, he spun in the air as red bled down his face. She struck him twice more, shredding his own wings.

He fell.

Part of her would always mourn an angel’s fall, but she couldn’t be sorry. Not when he’d come to this city as part of an attacking force—and not when his eyes had been an ordinary blue instead of the ugly black that marked Lijuan’s puppets. It wasn’t like Raphael had gone to China and picked a fight. Lijuan had come here and all these clear-eyed fighters had followed out of choice.

A massive shattering sound, shards of concrete flying up into the air. Something struck Elena’s cheek hard enough that blood dripped down her skin. She glanced back to see a smoking hole in the center of the roof. “What the fuck was that?”

“Look out!

Her head jerked up at the warning . . . to see a bolt of shining copper power heading directly for her. She rolled up to her feet . . . and found herself on the Tower roof, her breath gasps and her heart thundering from the speed of her flight. Raphael was already above her previous position, his wings white fire.

I’m safe! she yelled to him mind-to-mind, as angry frustration gnawed at her. She wasn’t the kind of woman who abandoned her fellow soldiers and ran from danger. She stayed and she fought! Fuck this ability that wouldn’t let her choose!

Elena. A single word that held Raphael’s heart.

Philomena directed her blows toward Raphael, but Raphael was an archangel, Philomena a mere angel even if she was experienced and old. The piercing blue of his angelfire hit Lijuan’s general on one side of her body and that was it.

She disintegrated from the inside out.

Angelfire was designed to kill archangels; ordinary angels stood no chance.

Raphael then blasted angelfire across a heavy line of enemy squadrons coming at theirs and the sky glowed for a long moment before things quieted down. Lijuan’s forces didn’t withdraw but they became warier, more careful.

Come back, Archangel. You’re our only hope when Lijuan rises. You can’t afford to get injured. If the enemy managed to shoot off part of his wing while it was in its physical form, he’d be grounded until it grew back. It might grow back faster than before the Cascade filled him with power, but it wouldn’t be immediate.

There are so many of them, he replied. Our people are exhausted.

I know. But if you fall, we all fall.

A silver-green power cracked the sky at that moment, and Elena stiffened . . . until she realized it was coming from their side. I forgot about Elijah. Her grin was surely manic.

Raphael didn’t reply until he landed beside her on the Tower roof. “Eli is of the same opinion as you.” He folded back his wings, his skin glimmering with perspiration. “He will help our forces while I hoard my energy to take on Lijuan.”

He stared out at the battle zone. “He is a good man. Not many generals, far less archangels, would put themselves in the position of being the assistant.”

“Yeah, he is.” Leaning her head against his biceps, she let her wing overlap his, the energy that danced between them a familiar caress by now. “I have to be more careful where I put myself if they’ve begun to target me.”

It had happened in the last battle, too, but this time around Lijuan had appeared so obsessed with Raphael that the entire army had forgotten Elena. Too bad the memory lapse hadn’t lasted. “I don’t want to put our troops in danger. I could—”

A door banged behind them, Dmitri running out. “Titus is wounded,” he said, a phone held to his ear.

Elena’s entire body tensed.

“How bad?” Raphael asked at the same time.

A pause while Dmitri listened to the person on the other end of the line. “He’s not incapacitated but he’s down for at least a day.” Another pause. “Charisemnon is also down. Titus wounded him at the same time he was wounded.”

Exhaling on a shudder, Elena leaned forward with her hands on her knees.

“Good,” Dmitri said curtly, putting away the phone. “Tzadiq says Titus caused massive quakes through Charisemnon’s territory, including one that collapsed land under a significant percentage of Charisemnon’s ground troops. Injured as he is, Charisemnon won’t be able to make much headway while Titus is down.”

Tzadiq, Elena remembered as she rose back to her full height, was Titus’s second—and Galen’s father.

Dmitri’s T-shirt pulled against his pectorals as he put his hands on his hips. “I finally managed to get an update on Astaad and Aegaeon. Charisemnon got his insects into Astaad’s territory. He’s evacuating those who haven’t been bitten to clean islands, putting the infected on a single quarantine island, and burning the rest down to soil and rock. Aegaeon is assisting.”

Elena had seen pictures of Astaad’s lands, many of them lush and tropical. How it must hurt the archangel to deliberately destroy all that beauty, all that life. As it must’ve hurt Elijah to give the order to scorch his lands. “What about Australia?” It was the biggest swath of Astaad’s territory.

“Infected.” Dmitri’s jaw worked. “But it’s also where he bases a good percentage of his army—they’re burning out the areas closest to the ports and shepherding the uninfected inward. Infected are being quarantined in various small towns.”

“The enemy has poisoned our world to win this war,” Raphael said and in his voice was the cold of the Cascade. “If we do not stop them here and now, their plague of death will cover the planet.”