Archangel's Heart
Page 35
“I could feel the back of my neck prickling. Figured it was Michaela shooting poison at me with her eyes.” Elena turned back toward the others, keeping her motions natural, as if she was simply taking in the room once again. “I’d quite like to talk to the guy, get his measure.”
“This is a good opportunity. It may be nothing but curiosity, but if he’s interested in testing the strength of a mortal hunter turned consort, you’ll be safer here than if he catches you alone.”
Elena tried not to frown. “You think he’s dangerous?”
“I’ve just remembered where I know the name from.”
13
Raphael leaned in to speak against her ear, an archangel and his consort sharing a private joke. “Gian was the second of an archangel who has Slept since before Neha’s ascension. He is at least five thousand years old and dangerously strong.”
Smiling to keep up the illusion of a private conversation between lovers, Elena said, “Got it. I’ll watch myself.”
“He also had a reputation for being a man who enjoyed the pleasures of life and who had many lovers, all of them women.” Raphael’s tone was thoughtful. “From that to this bastion of maleness, it’s an unusual progression.”
“I dunno—sometimes people take stock of their life and don’t like what they see. Could be what happened to Gian.” She glanced over her shoulder to check on Aodhan.
The angel had taken up a position against the wall of the Atrium nearest the door, alongside several of his fellow escorts. One of those escorts, Elena saw, was a well-armed and gorgeous woman with a blunt fringe of black hair against skin of muted brown—and she was looking straight at Aodhan, invitation in her smile.
Aodhan’s attention, however, was on Elena.
Turning back around after their eyes met in a silent communication that all was well—so far—she asked Raphael about the woman, then held up a hand. “Wait, let me guess. Hmm . . . Neha’s escort?”
“Titus’s,” Raphael told her with a smile. “He adores soft, feminine women, but he also has a powerful contingent of female warriors. I’m fairly certain the woman is the fourth in his command structure.”
Reminding herself that all the archangels were multidimensional, she saw that Michaela and Titus were still talking, while Gian remained in another area, in conversation with Astaad. Mele was nowhere to be seen, but Elena glimpsed Hannah and Elijah in the far opposite corner of the Atrium. Alexander and Xander stood with the couple, Alexander dressed in black pants, boots, and a silver breastplate stamped with an image Elena couldn’t make out from this distance.
Missing were Neha, Favashi, Charisemnon, and Caliane. “You had contact with your mom?”
“She is about to arrive.” Raphael began to move, Elena moving with him.
“Let’s wait, greet her,” Elena said after a thought. “No harm in everyone here knowing you two are a unit.” Caliane might’ve once been an insane mass murderer, but she appeared sane now—and full of remorse for the atrocity she’d committed in her madness. And she’d stood by Raphael since the instant she awoke from her long Sleep.
Raphael shook his head. “I am not Caliane’s son at this moment—I am the Archangel of New York. I wait for no one.”
Damn subtle archangelic politics, Elena thought to herself. She’d learned so much but countless things could still trip her up. Because Raphael was right—he couldn’t be seen to be waiting for his mother to arrive. And what the hell was he doing now?
“Are you heading toward Michaela?” she asked sotto voce. “Good God, why? If you want someone to stab you in the back, I have plenty of knives.”
His laughter caught Michaela’s attention, her head angling toward them. “Titus and Michaela are the closest to us,” he murmured. “It is simple courtesy—and I thought you might appreciate the opportunity to examine her more closely.”
“Unfortunately, I don’t think you can tell just by looking at someone if they gave birth a year ago.” The idea of Michaela birthing a child was still a hard one for her to accept. “She was probably just playing a game, or maybe she was Sleeping off Uram’s poison.” That was a possibility Elena hadn’t previously considered and it made just as much sense as the secret birth of a baby that might or might not have been impacted by the same poison. “Her figure certainly hasn’t changed.”
Then they were too close to risk further discussion. Mere seconds later, Titus greeted Raphael with a back-slapping hug that made it clear to the room at large that he considered Raphael an ally. Then, as Elena gritted her teeth, Raphael touched his hand to Michaela’s in a polite greeting between Cadre.
Titus, meanwhile, was gripping Elena’s forearm in the way of warriors—though he’d tempered his strength, likely as a result of a mental reminder from Raphael. The warrior archangel had accepted Elena as a fellow warrior to the extent that he sometimes forgot she wasn’t as physically strong as an archangel. “Ellie,” he said, using the nickname she’d asked him to use. “When is your next block party?”
His booming true voice filled the room, the enthusiasm in it making her grin. “Maybe after we sort out this whole possible mass bloodlust situation,” she said and, forearm shake complete, forced herself to turn to Michaela. “Archangel Michaela,” she said politely. “It has been many moons.” The words were a stock phrase Jessamy had taught her. She felt like adding: I hope it’s way more moons to our next meeting.
“This is a good opportunity. It may be nothing but curiosity, but if he’s interested in testing the strength of a mortal hunter turned consort, you’ll be safer here than if he catches you alone.”
Elena tried not to frown. “You think he’s dangerous?”
“I’ve just remembered where I know the name from.”
13
Raphael leaned in to speak against her ear, an archangel and his consort sharing a private joke. “Gian was the second of an archangel who has Slept since before Neha’s ascension. He is at least five thousand years old and dangerously strong.”
Smiling to keep up the illusion of a private conversation between lovers, Elena said, “Got it. I’ll watch myself.”
“He also had a reputation for being a man who enjoyed the pleasures of life and who had many lovers, all of them women.” Raphael’s tone was thoughtful. “From that to this bastion of maleness, it’s an unusual progression.”
“I dunno—sometimes people take stock of their life and don’t like what they see. Could be what happened to Gian.” She glanced over her shoulder to check on Aodhan.
The angel had taken up a position against the wall of the Atrium nearest the door, alongside several of his fellow escorts. One of those escorts, Elena saw, was a well-armed and gorgeous woman with a blunt fringe of black hair against skin of muted brown—and she was looking straight at Aodhan, invitation in her smile.
Aodhan’s attention, however, was on Elena.
Turning back around after their eyes met in a silent communication that all was well—so far—she asked Raphael about the woman, then held up a hand. “Wait, let me guess. Hmm . . . Neha’s escort?”
“Titus’s,” Raphael told her with a smile. “He adores soft, feminine women, but he also has a powerful contingent of female warriors. I’m fairly certain the woman is the fourth in his command structure.”
Reminding herself that all the archangels were multidimensional, she saw that Michaela and Titus were still talking, while Gian remained in another area, in conversation with Astaad. Mele was nowhere to be seen, but Elena glimpsed Hannah and Elijah in the far opposite corner of the Atrium. Alexander and Xander stood with the couple, Alexander dressed in black pants, boots, and a silver breastplate stamped with an image Elena couldn’t make out from this distance.
Missing were Neha, Favashi, Charisemnon, and Caliane. “You had contact with your mom?”
“She is about to arrive.” Raphael began to move, Elena moving with him.
“Let’s wait, greet her,” Elena said after a thought. “No harm in everyone here knowing you two are a unit.” Caliane might’ve once been an insane mass murderer, but she appeared sane now—and full of remorse for the atrocity she’d committed in her madness. And she’d stood by Raphael since the instant she awoke from her long Sleep.
Raphael shook his head. “I am not Caliane’s son at this moment—I am the Archangel of New York. I wait for no one.”
Damn subtle archangelic politics, Elena thought to herself. She’d learned so much but countless things could still trip her up. Because Raphael was right—he couldn’t be seen to be waiting for his mother to arrive. And what the hell was he doing now?
“Are you heading toward Michaela?” she asked sotto voce. “Good God, why? If you want someone to stab you in the back, I have plenty of knives.”
His laughter caught Michaela’s attention, her head angling toward them. “Titus and Michaela are the closest to us,” he murmured. “It is simple courtesy—and I thought you might appreciate the opportunity to examine her more closely.”
“Unfortunately, I don’t think you can tell just by looking at someone if they gave birth a year ago.” The idea of Michaela birthing a child was still a hard one for her to accept. “She was probably just playing a game, or maybe she was Sleeping off Uram’s poison.” That was a possibility Elena hadn’t previously considered and it made just as much sense as the secret birth of a baby that might or might not have been impacted by the same poison. “Her figure certainly hasn’t changed.”
Then they were too close to risk further discussion. Mere seconds later, Titus greeted Raphael with a back-slapping hug that made it clear to the room at large that he considered Raphael an ally. Then, as Elena gritted her teeth, Raphael touched his hand to Michaela’s in a polite greeting between Cadre.
Titus, meanwhile, was gripping Elena’s forearm in the way of warriors—though he’d tempered his strength, likely as a result of a mental reminder from Raphael. The warrior archangel had accepted Elena as a fellow warrior to the extent that he sometimes forgot she wasn’t as physically strong as an archangel. “Ellie,” he said, using the nickname she’d asked him to use. “When is your next block party?”
His booming true voice filled the room, the enthusiasm in it making her grin. “Maybe after we sort out this whole possible mass bloodlust situation,” she said and, forearm shake complete, forced herself to turn to Michaela. “Archangel Michaela,” she said politely. “It has been many moons.” The words were a stock phrase Jessamy had taught her. She felt like adding: I hope it’s way more moons to our next meeting.
