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  Illium’s light faded even as he landed, but he could tell the girl hadn’t moved. The world was too still. And when his eyes acclimated again to the night, he easily picked out her frightened form. She’d ducked her head onto her arms, her lank hair a curtain around a body that shook.

  Shifting closer, he crouched down, his wings spread behind him. “Hello,” he said gently in the dominant tongue of this region. Immortals often knew many languages but a younger Illium had made it a specific point to learn at least one language in each of the territories of the Cadre—he’d seen it as another element of being a successful warrior.

  Over time, his knowledge had grown, with each new language or dialect coming easier, as if his mind had built pathways along which the new words could travel. He wasn’t anywhere near as good as Dmitri and nothing close to Jason’s fluency in too many languages to count, but he was good enough for this.

  “My name is Illium. I’m from New York’s Tower, sent here to help the new archangel.” It was a deliberate thing to make sure she knew he wasn’t of this land, and that he’d played no part in what Lijuan had done.

  Her quivering seemed to stop, a wary creature who was listening.

  Encouraged, he said, “Did you get separated from your family? I can escort you back to the settlement.”

  Her head lifted, her eyes inky pools swimming in a pale oval face of astonishing beauty. When she spoke, it was in a whisper so low that he had to ask her to repeat herself.

  “Dead,” she rasped. “My family is all dead.”

  Grim as it was, at this point in history, that wasn’t an unusual thing in this territory. “I’m sorry.” That the dreadful loss of life was a national tragedy didn’t make it any less painful. “But I don’t think they’d want you out here alone. Let’s walk to the stronghold.”

  A jagged shake of the head, her body hunching in on itself. “The archangel is there.”

  “Archangel Suyin means her people no harm.”

  “No, her.” The girl’s voice was an urgent whisper. “She’s here. She walks in death.”

  A shiver rippled up Illium’s spine. Fighting past it, he made his tone blunt. “I saw Lijuan die. I saw her be erased from existence by the combined might of many archangels. She’s not coming back from that.”

  “Goddess,” the girl whispered. “Goddess can’t die. I wanted to go home. But the goddess can’t die. She can’t die.”

  Rising to his feet, Illium decided it was time for harsh reality. “She’s not here, and the settlement moves tomorrow. If you don’t join them now, you’ll be left behind.”

  A moment of motionless silence before his words seemed to penetrate. Unraveling from her tight curl in jagged movements, she stood—and he realized she wasn’t a girl after all, but a young woman. Nineteen or twenty mortal years perhaps. Her hair proved to be waist-length and was matted with leaves and other debris, and what he could see of her clothing was torn and dirty.

  The smell that came off her was of old sweat and dirt. Nothing nasty. No indication of festering blood or putrefying wounds. Simply as if she hadn’t bathed for a few days.

  “Did you go looking for greens and get lost?” He’d noticed any number of mortals scavenging in the forest for greens and mushrooms to supplement their diet of hunted meat. Yindi had told him that the mortals had also begun to preserve greens and fruits from the start.

  “With farms lying fallow until we settle,” she’d said, “it’s a necessity. And the mortals want to contribute—they know they can’t fight off any predators, or scout for danger, and most have never hunted, so this—and donations of blood—are their contributions to our food supplies.”

  But the young woman next to Illium seemed to not even hear his comment about the gathering of greens. Head down as she trudged beside him, she said, “Run. Run. Run. She walks.”

  Her voice was an eerie monotone that raised all the hairs on the back of his neck. This was why he didn’t watch horror movies with Aodhan and Ellie. There were enough scary things in real life. Especially when it came to the megalomaniacal archangel who’d made the dead walk.

  Deciding to leave the traumatized woman be for the time being, he led her to the stronghold, then around it to the large human encampment. It spread out for some distance, the area a bustle of activity in the daylight hours, but quiet now, as most people tried to catch a few hours of sleep before beginning the long migration home.

  Most of the hearths had already been extinguished, with only a few left banked in order to provide hot drinks in the morning. Those last hearths would be safely extinguished after breakfast, the few permanent buildings locked against scavengers. The latter structures had been put up to house the very young and the very old. The rest was all temporary habitation that could be broken down within an hour, ready for transport.

  The young woman looked around, her eyes wide, dazed.

  Glimpsing the mortal named Rii, Illium caught his attention. “I found her coming out of the forest. She seems disoriented. Can you find her people?” Yindi had told him that the mortals were tight-knit, creating new families out of the wounded pieces of all who remained.

  The man’s eyes were close-set with thick lashes, his salt-and-pepper hair buzzed close to his skull. “I don’t recognize her,” he said, his heavy accent telling Illium this dialect wasn’t his native one. “But no fear, my wife will know. My Lili knows everyone.” A hint of a chuckle in his tone. “I will take care of it, Angel.” He bowed.

  Illium found the deference awkward. In New York, he’d land on a city street and people would grin and wave and the cheekiest would ask him to pose for a photograph with them. Venom was of the opinion that Illium was on more people’s social media accounts than the rest of them combined.

  “That’s because I like people,” Illium had said with a grin. “I’m not a tall, dark, and brooding type like you. You know you have a hashtag.”

  Viper green eyes glinting, Venom had slid on his sunglasses. “I’m not going to ask.”

  “SuitPornV,” Illium had said, staying out of Venom’s viciously fast reach. “Full of sneakily taken ‘thirst’ pics of you.”

  Venom had looked so utterly appalled that it had sent Illium into fits of laughter. Meanwhile, Venom’s love, Holly, had already been on her phone scrolling through the hashtag. “Your stalkers have good taste,” she’d said, then tugged a scowling Venom down for a kiss. “Don’t worry, cutie, I’ll chop off the hands of anyone who dares touch you.”

  Illium hadn’t pointed out that tiny, fierce Holly had her own following. But that was the thing—in New York, immortals were part of the rhythm of life. Not the same as mortals, but still woven into the city. He knew the current levels of interaction had a lot to do with Ellie, but New York’s immortals had never been this remote from the rest of its people.

  Here, a film of fear colored every contact between mortal and immortal. Even Rii, who appeared at ease with angels and vampires, had given the slightest flinch when Illium resettled his wings.

  As if bracing for a blow.

  Illium didn’t know how Aodhan had lived with it for so long; his friend’s personality was such that he tended to keep his distance from most strangers, mortal or immortal, but neither one of them was comfortable with obsequiousness. That wasn’t how you built a strong people, a strong city.

  None of this, however, was Suyin’s fault. She couldn’t just erase the memory of her aunt’s heavy-handed rule. It would take time for the new culture to form and then permeate the population.

  Leaving the young woman in Rii’s safe hands, Illium rose into the sky. When a flash of color caught his eye, he looked down to see Kai carrying out a tray of food to an angelic security team on break. It was the yellow scarf she’d used to tie back her hair that had caught his attention.

  When she looked up, he dipped his wings.

  Her smile held a playful impudence to
it this time, and it caught at his heart, made him remember another woman, another smile. Kaia had beamed at him with bold flirtatiousness from the first. He’d blushed from the pleasure of it.

  “Will you walk with me?” he’d finally screwed up the courage to ask.

  Basket of flowers held to her side, she’d given him a saucy look. “If I have the time.” Then she’d giggled and walked off, a lovely young woman unafraid and intrepid.

  If he had been Cassandra, able to see the future—if he’d known the heartrending loss to come, would he have chased after her as he’d done that day? He’d flown over her, doing aerial tricks until she dropped her basket of flowers and clapped, and he’d known he’d won her.

  Then he’d lost her. In the most absolute way possible.

  As he was now about to lose Aodhan. “But I can’t force him to be my friend,” he rasped to the night sky. “I can’t hold on to him if he wants to go.”

  We’re all a little broken. No one goes through life with a whole heart.

  —Keir, Healer

  18

  Yesterday

  Aodhan flew toward Eh-ma’s house. Illium had stayed with him at his house the previous night, and Aodhan’s mother had baked them sweetcakes and his father had taken them for a walk along the top of the gorge.

  Aodhan had been so happy. So had Illium. Especially when Aodhan’s mother let them eat three sweetcakes each! She’d seemed to like being with them, and his father hadn’t been distracted by his books. Those were Aodhan’s favorite times and he’d felt proud to have Illium see how his parents could sometimes be.

  “Your ma is nice,” Illium had whispered before they went to sleep. “And your pa, too. He has a lot of books.”

  “Yes. Like Eh-ma has paints and brushes everywhere—even in her hair!”

  They’d giggled at that and slept.

  Aodhan had thought Illium would stay in the morning, too—Aodhan’s papa had promised to make honey oats for breakfast and Illium loved those—but then Raphael had come and taken him away and Aodhan had a knowing in his heart that something was very, very wrong. But when he’d asked his parents, they’d just said, “Oh, Aodhan. This is a thing for adults.”

  That was wrong. It wasn’t a thing for grown-ups if Illium had been taken away. Aodhan’s best friend wasn’t a grown-up.

  So he’d waited and waited and waited until his parents were busy with their books, and now he flew toward Eh-ma’s house in the evening light. Yesterday, on their walk, he’d found a pretty stone that he’d thought she’d like. He’d give it to her, and he’d ask her what was happening. Eh-ma would explain. She always explained things.

  But it wasn’t Eh-ma who came to the door. It was a far taller and thinner angel, her hair the color of chestnuts after his father roasted them, and her eyes soft. Aodhan had known she was kind the first time he’d seen her, even before she’d ever said a word.

  “Aodhan.” Smile as soft as the feathers of a color like pink—but deeper—that he could see over her shoulder, Teacher Jessamy knelt in front of him. “I’m afraid you can’t visit Lady Sharine today.”

  Aodhan’s heart beat too fast. “Is Eh-ma all right?”

  A sadness to Jessamy’s smile. “She’s had a big shock, and she needs time to rest.” Leaning in, she kissed Aodhan on the forehead. “I’ll tell her you came by, I promise.”

  Teacher Jessamy never lied to them, so Aodhan knew she’d keep her promise. Digging inside his pocket, he pulled out the stone. “This is for her.”

  Light filled the warm brown of his teacher’s eyes. “Oh, how lovely. I’m sure this will brighten her day.”

  “Can I see Illium?”

  “Oh, of course—I think that would be very good for him.” Jessamy touched his cheek. She’d asked on the first day of school if he minded if she hugged him or touched him in such small ways, and he’d told her he didn’t. He liked her. She was warm inside like Eh-ma. “He’s with Raphael. You know where Raphael’s Refuge stronghold is?”

  When Aodhan nodded hard, Jessamy said, “I’m sure he’ll be very glad to see you. But Aodhan, if he’s mad at you, or doesn’t act like himself, please know it has nothing to do with you. He’s had a bad shock, too.”

  Aodhan’s best friend was never mean to him, but he nodded again. “Is he hurt inside?” It was something Eh-ma had taught him, that sometimes, the hurts weren’t ones you could see.

  Jessamy gave him a solemn look. “Yes, sweet boy. He’s hurt inside.”

  “I’ll go see him now.” He couldn’t leave his friend alone when he was hurting.

  Jessamy stood and watched as he walked to the edge of the drop-off beside Eh-ma’s home, and flew off it. He couldn’t do vertical takeoffs like the big boys yet, but he could fly good enough to get to Raphael’s stronghold.

  Still, he was puffed by the time he reached it, his wings drooping as he came in to land on the big flat balcony that Raphael had said he and Illium were allowed to use.

  Raphael was already on that balcony. “There you are, Aodhan,” he murmured.

  “Did Jason see me?” Aodhan huffed, gulping in the cold air.

  “No, Jason is in my territory. Another sentry spotted you.” Raphael held out a small glass of water. “Drink this first, then we’ll talk.”

  Thirsty after his long flight and wanting to see Illium, Aodhan gulped down the drink, gave Raphael the glass, then took the hand Raphael held out. They walked together into a big room that had lots of sitting places. Putting the glass on a nearby table, Raphael lifted Aodhan up onto a bench seat by a window.

  The archangel then sat down next to him, his huge wings taking up all the space behind Aodhan. His face was more serious than Aodhan had ever seen it.

  Scared, he said, “It’s something really bad, isn’t it, Rafa?”

  “Yes, Aodhan, it is.” Raphael met his eyes. “I’ve spoken with your parents, and they’ve agreed with me that you need to be told. You’re too important to Illium for it to be otherwise.”

  Aodhan bit his lower lip. “Did you make my parents?” Because they’d been patting him on the head and telling him he didn’t need to know.

  “Perhaps I applied a little pressure.” Raphael’s tone was . . . different. Hard. “But there are times to protect a child, and there are times to trust a child’s heart and strength. I think you have plenty of both.”

  Aodhan swallowed, squeezing the edges of the bench on which they sat. “What happened? Did Aegaeon do a mean thing?”

  Going as still as one of the snow leopards that Naasir had shown Aodhan, Raphael murmured, “Now, why would you say that?”

  Aodhan shrugged. “I don’t like him.” He flicked up his eyes to see if he was in trouble for saying that.

  “Neither do I.” Raphael’s voice was even harder. “And the answer is yes, he did.” Swiveling so he was straddling the bench, Raphael helped Aodhan get into the same position, so they were face-to-face. “Aegaeon went into Sleep. He didn’t warn Lady Sharine or Illium. He just went into Sleep without warning.”

  Aodhan knew about Sleep. His grandmother who was his father’s mother had gone into Sleep before he was born. It meant she was resting because she didn’t want to live in the world anymore. One day, she’d wake up, but it might be a long time from now. Maybe even after Aodhan was a grown-up.

  “But Aegaeon’s a papa.” He scrunched up his face. “Mamas and papas don’t go to Sleep.” Not until their children weren’t little angels anymore.

  “Even a small child knows our unwritten laws,” Raphael said, his eyes like the blue stones in Aodhan’s mama’s favorite bracelet, “and yet that ass thinks he is above them all.”

  “Ass” was a bad word when used that way. Aodhan knew that, but he didn’t say anything. Raphael was an archangel. And it sounded like he was using the bad word about Aegaeon. If Aegaeon had done such a horrible thing, then he needed to be called
bad words.

  “Is Aegaeon going to wake up soon?” he asked in hope, because even though he didn’t like Aegaeon, he knew Illium loved his papa.

  A shake of Raphael’s head. “All signs are that he intends this to be a long Sleep. He’s set up a transition team in his court.”

  When Aodhan just looked at him, Raphael shook his head. “Of course you don’t understand. None of that matters, Aodhan. What matters is that Illium is—”

  “—hurt inside,” Aodhan interrupted. “I know. Can I go see him?”

  A faint curve to Raphael’s lips. “Naasir says you have a heart like a tiger, fierce in your love.”

  Antsy to see Illium, Aodhan said, “Did Illium cry?”

  When Raphael nodded, Aodhan banged his fists against the dark blue cushion of the bench seat. “Illium never cries! He’s happy all the time!” Now Aegaeon had made him cry. “I hate Aegaeon!”

  Raphael didn’t tell him not to say those things. He just said, “You can be angry, Aodhan. But today, you need to listen to Illium. His heart is broken. He’s very sad. We can hate Aegaeon, but he’s Illium’s father.”

  Aodhan’s eyes were hot, but he nodded. Raphael was talking to him like a grown-up, talking to him like Aodhan could understand. So he would. He wouldn’t talk about how horrible Aegaeon was; he’d let Illium say whatever he wanted. “I promise,” he said, his voice wobbly.

  “Aodhan.” It was a murmur as Raphael took him into his arms and held him close to his chest, the huge breadth of his wings wrapping around Aodhan in a wave of warmth and protection that made it okay for Aodhan to cry.

  After he finished, he wiped his eyes and sat up. “I can see Illium now. I won’t say mean things about his papa.”

  Stroking back strands of hair from Aodhan’s face, Raphael met his eyes. “You have a tiger’s heart indeed, small sparkles.” A gentle smile as he used Naasir’s name for him. “I think Illium will be quite all right with you by his side.”

  After they got up, Raphael used a wet cloth to wipe Aodhan’s face so he didn’t look like he’d been crying, and then they walked down the hallway of the stronghold, all the way to a room that was big and full of light. In the center of it stood a bed, on which lay a blue-winged boy curled up into a small ball, his body jerking as he slept.