Archangel's Shadows
Page 120
Janvier tracked Keir down three hours into the party. Catching the healer’s eye, he ducked out into a small room off the corridor.
This, what he had to ask, it was a private thing, an important thing.
“Janvier.” Keir’s wings made a whisper of sound in the doorway. “I am glad to see you are not dead yet.”
Janvier tried to smile at the old joke, but the urgency of what he had to ask tore at him too desperately to allow for levity.
Keir’s expression altered, wise eyes in an ageless face turning solemn. “What is it?”
“You can’t speak about it to anyone else.”
“I will not.” It was the oath of a healer. “Not even should the Cadre ask.”
Hope a white-hot flame inside him, he said, “It’s about Ash.”
• • •
Ashwini felt a prickle on the back of her neck that told her Janvier was near, even before Honor said, “Here comes your Cajun.” A shoulder nudge from her best friend, the two of them having spent the past half hour talking. “I’m off to debauch my deliciously sexy husband—you should do the same with Janvier.”
Janvier slid down beside her as Honor left; his thigh pressed against hers, strong and warm, the city spread out below them.
“I thought you went to catch up with your friends from out of town.” He’d brought her a cocktail earlier, danced with her on the roof, then slipped away while she chatted with Honor. Naasir had prowled off before that, in full mate-hunting mode.
“I was speaking to Keir.”
“I didn’t realize you two were friends.”
Janvier took her hand, his expression unexpectedly serious. “I’m going to tell you something, cher, and I want you to listen. Don’t dismiss it out of hand. Promise me.”
A tremor shook her on the inside, incited by the fear that he’d ask her to embrace vampirism after all, but her trust in him was stronger than her dread of endless madness. “I promise.”
Leaning forward with his forearms braced on his thighs and his eyes on the angels flying over the city, he said, “I know why you don’t want to become a vampire. An illness of the mind can last centuries for those of my kind.”
Relief rained over her senses. “I could live millennia as a broken shadow.” It was her worst nightmare.
“There’s Dmitri,” he said in an apparent non sequitur. “Do you see him?”
Glancing over her shoulder, she smiled. “Yes, he’s dancing with Honor.” The dark, dangerous vampire was whispering things in Honor’s ear as the two of them swayed to a slow and sensual ballad.
“Keir knew him when he first became a vampire,” Janvier said, “and now a thousand years later, he says that while Dmitri has changed physically, it is in strength and a refining of his features. He hasn’t truly aged.”
Ashwini frowned. “Vampirism doesn’t stop time.”
“No, but it slows it down to an insect’s crawl. Every aspect of aging slows down—including changes in the brain.” His hand squeezed hers. “Keir has seen this in the brains of vampires who have died in accidents or battles. Tumors and fragile blood vessels, among other things, both of which are mortal ailments the centuries-old fallen must’ve had before embracing near-immortality—because in the normal course of things, with no strange archangelic powers in the mix, vampires don’t get sick.”
Ashwini wanted to grab on to hope, desperate for a lifetime with him, but there was one problem. “Vampires go insane just like mortals.”
“Yes,” Janvier agreed, his voice fierce, “but not from an organic cause. The degeneration is psychological, as with Giorgio. He isn’t insane, but he would’ve been, given enough time, and it had nothing to do with his brain.”
No, Ashwini thought, it had to do with a breakdown in his conscience. She had no fear of that happening to her—not with Janvier acting as her balance, and her acting as his. “Could Keir give us any kind of a timeline?”
Bayou green eyes slammed into her own. “A single human year could equal a thousand years as a vampire. A month could mean a hundred years or more.”
All the air rushed out of her lungs. “And then?” she whispered. “When the time comes? Whether after a hundred years or a thousand?”
“Then we go together.” A quiet promise. “When you’re ready, I’ll ask Raphael to erase us with angelfire. You won’t be trapped in an existence you do not wish.”
Ashwini’s heart was in her mouth, her pulse a roar. “Tanu and Arvi gave me this chance.” Without her sister’s death and her brother’s instructions on the autopsy, she’d never have known the apparent insanity had a physical cause.
“There’s no guarantee, cher.” Janvier lifted their clasped hands to his mouth, pressed his lips over her knuckles. “You are unique. The change to vampirism could have an adverse reaction, as it does with a small number, and consume you in madness.” His hand trembled. “I could lose you in a heartbeat.” Voice breaking, he took long seconds to continue. “I almost didn’t tell you of the option when Keir spelled out the risk. I would rather have you for a single fleeting day than take the risk. I would be that selfish.”
It was her choice, Ashwini thought, and no matter what she decided, he would fight to come with her, ending his near-immortal existence.
“No,” he said, the word harsh. “Don’t you make this decision for me. The decision must be yours or I will never forgive you.”
This, what he had to ask, it was a private thing, an important thing.
“Janvier.” Keir’s wings made a whisper of sound in the doorway. “I am glad to see you are not dead yet.”
Janvier tried to smile at the old joke, but the urgency of what he had to ask tore at him too desperately to allow for levity.
Keir’s expression altered, wise eyes in an ageless face turning solemn. “What is it?”
“You can’t speak about it to anyone else.”
“I will not.” It was the oath of a healer. “Not even should the Cadre ask.”
Hope a white-hot flame inside him, he said, “It’s about Ash.”
• • •
Ashwini felt a prickle on the back of her neck that told her Janvier was near, even before Honor said, “Here comes your Cajun.” A shoulder nudge from her best friend, the two of them having spent the past half hour talking. “I’m off to debauch my deliciously sexy husband—you should do the same with Janvier.”
Janvier slid down beside her as Honor left; his thigh pressed against hers, strong and warm, the city spread out below them.
“I thought you went to catch up with your friends from out of town.” He’d brought her a cocktail earlier, danced with her on the roof, then slipped away while she chatted with Honor. Naasir had prowled off before that, in full mate-hunting mode.
“I was speaking to Keir.”
“I didn’t realize you two were friends.”
Janvier took her hand, his expression unexpectedly serious. “I’m going to tell you something, cher, and I want you to listen. Don’t dismiss it out of hand. Promise me.”
A tremor shook her on the inside, incited by the fear that he’d ask her to embrace vampirism after all, but her trust in him was stronger than her dread of endless madness. “I promise.”
Leaning forward with his forearms braced on his thighs and his eyes on the angels flying over the city, he said, “I know why you don’t want to become a vampire. An illness of the mind can last centuries for those of my kind.”
Relief rained over her senses. “I could live millennia as a broken shadow.” It was her worst nightmare.
“There’s Dmitri,” he said in an apparent non sequitur. “Do you see him?”
Glancing over her shoulder, she smiled. “Yes, he’s dancing with Honor.” The dark, dangerous vampire was whispering things in Honor’s ear as the two of them swayed to a slow and sensual ballad.
“Keir knew him when he first became a vampire,” Janvier said, “and now a thousand years later, he says that while Dmitri has changed physically, it is in strength and a refining of his features. He hasn’t truly aged.”
Ashwini frowned. “Vampirism doesn’t stop time.”
“No, but it slows it down to an insect’s crawl. Every aspect of aging slows down—including changes in the brain.” His hand squeezed hers. “Keir has seen this in the brains of vampires who have died in accidents or battles. Tumors and fragile blood vessels, among other things, both of which are mortal ailments the centuries-old fallen must’ve had before embracing near-immortality—because in the normal course of things, with no strange archangelic powers in the mix, vampires don’t get sick.”
Ashwini wanted to grab on to hope, desperate for a lifetime with him, but there was one problem. “Vampires go insane just like mortals.”
“Yes,” Janvier agreed, his voice fierce, “but not from an organic cause. The degeneration is psychological, as with Giorgio. He isn’t insane, but he would’ve been, given enough time, and it had nothing to do with his brain.”
No, Ashwini thought, it had to do with a breakdown in his conscience. She had no fear of that happening to her—not with Janvier acting as her balance, and her acting as his. “Could Keir give us any kind of a timeline?”
Bayou green eyes slammed into her own. “A single human year could equal a thousand years as a vampire. A month could mean a hundred years or more.”
All the air rushed out of her lungs. “And then?” she whispered. “When the time comes? Whether after a hundred years or a thousand?”
“Then we go together.” A quiet promise. “When you’re ready, I’ll ask Raphael to erase us with angelfire. You won’t be trapped in an existence you do not wish.”
Ashwini’s heart was in her mouth, her pulse a roar. “Tanu and Arvi gave me this chance.” Without her sister’s death and her brother’s instructions on the autopsy, she’d never have known the apparent insanity had a physical cause.
“There’s no guarantee, cher.” Janvier lifted their clasped hands to his mouth, pressed his lips over her knuckles. “You are unique. The change to vampirism could have an adverse reaction, as it does with a small number, and consume you in madness.” His hand trembled. “I could lose you in a heartbeat.” Voice breaking, he took long seconds to continue. “I almost didn’t tell you of the option when Keir spelled out the risk. I would rather have you for a single fleeting day than take the risk. I would be that selfish.”
It was her choice, Ashwini thought, and no matter what she decided, he would fight to come with her, ending his near-immortal existence.
“No,” he said, the word harsh. “Don’t you make this decision for me. The decision must be yours or I will never forgive you.”
