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  24

  Yesterday

  Aodhan was so proud of Illium. His best friend had just been given the highest honor available to trainees their age—it put him at the top of their class. Had he been an adult, he would’ve held the rank of squadron leader. As it was, he was now First Wing of their training squadron.

  It was a big thing, and the trainers had held a small ceremony for it. Their teacher, Jessamy, had come, as had Aodhan’s parents, even Archangel Raphael. But the most critical person in Illium’s life was missing; Aodhan had expected to see sadness in Illium because of that, but instead, when he finally got his friend alone, Illium’s face held only worry.

  “My mother’s not having a good day,” he said, turning his head in the direction of his home. “She’s somewhere else today. Healer Keir is with her. I didn’t want her alone.”

  “I’m sorry, Blue. I know you wanted her here.”

  “She was so excited about me becoming First Wing.” Illium’s hand clenched around the small pin he’d been given as part of the honor. “When she realizes that she missed it . . . it’ll make her so sad, Adi.” His eyes shining wet, he swallowed hard. “I don’t know how to fix that.”

  Aodhan’s chest got all tight. He couldn’t bear it when Illium was sad. “I have an idea,” he said. “Wait here.” He left his friend in the company of two other trainees who’d run over to congratulate him—no one was jealous of Illium gaining the honor. No one was ever angry at Illium. He was everyone’s friend, often helped others better their skills—and they all knew how hard he worked.

  Aodhan’s Blue put in twice the hours as most trainees.

  It took Aodhan a bit of time to twist and duck and make his way close to Raphael, and then he had to stand off to the side until the archangel noticed him. Youngsters didn’t go up and interrupt archangels while they were in conversation. But Raphael turned to him far quicker than he’d anticipated.

  “Aodhan,” he murmured, after excusing himself from his discussion with a senior trainer. “Where is Lady Sharine?”

  Raphael was one of the few people who used Eh-ma’s name. Most people called her the Hummingbird. “She’s away,” Aodhan said, knowing Raphael would understand. “Illium is sad because her heart will break when she realizes she missed this.”

  Raphael’s eyes darkened, and he brushed his fingers over Aodhan’s hair. “He’s too young to have such worries on his shoulders.”

  “I was thinking,” Aodhan blurted out because he could see someone else heading this way, no doubt wanting Raphael’s attention, “that when she’s better, you could come and present him with his pin again, and we could pretend it was the ceremony?”

  The intense, dangerous blue of Raphael’s eyes pierced Aodhan, the power that burned off him an incandescent heat. “I do not believe in lies, Aodhan,” Raphael said at last, “but there are some lies that are told to save a heart. So we will do this so Lady Sharine’s heart doesn’t break.”

  A firm, reassuring touch on Aodhan’s shoulder. “Tell Illium not to worry and to enjoy his day. He’s earned it. I’ll speak to the head trainer and make sure he’s also present at our private ceremony—he’s a good man, and he loves Lady Sharine as well as you or I.”

  Eyes hot, Aodhan wanted to wrap his arms around Raphael, but he was nearly a halfling now, and such impositions into an archangel’s personal space wouldn’t be forgiven as they would in a child. But then Raphael enclosed him in his arms and in his wings, and murmured, “You are a good friend, Aodhan.”

  Power isn’t everything—the bonds that tie us to one another, forged by emotion and battle and friendship, that’s what makes us strong.

  —Illium

  25

  Today

  Dawn had come.

  Suyin’s people had woken and broken bread.

  It was almost time for Aodhan to say good-bye to his archangel as she led the survivors toward the open, windswept piece of the coast where she would build her new stronghold—a place of grace and beauty that was true to her. The defenses would be external, the home within a balm to her wounded soul.

  Even now, she chafed against the need for what she termed a “defensive display.” “It doesn’t suit who I am, Aodhan.”

  About to remind her that necessity had to trump her dedication to architectural form, he stopped and thought about it. “Raphael’s Tower is in the center of a thriving city, and has no battlements,” he said. “But everyone knows that sentries monitor all approaches to it. It’s also no secret that the top of the Tower can be turned into a battle command station.”

  Aodhan had never thought about the subtleties of Raphael’s show of power until that moment. “The display doesn’t have to be overt,” he verbalized to Suyin. “It just has to be known.”

  Suyin gave him a long look. “You’ve taught me much, Aodhan.” A fleeting touch of his hand, a gentle softness to her expression. “Would that we could be more as desired by so many, but we are too akin, you and I.”

  It was the first time she’d made any reference to what others in angelkind had whispered of for the past year. Aodhan knew of those whispers because his sister had passed them on—they’d become closer after the birth of his nephew, Imalia having pronounced him the best of uncles, and now she spoke and wrote to him on a regular basis. She also loved to gossip.

  “Most of the Refuge is convinced you’d make the perfect couple,” she’d said early on in his sojourn in China. “Both of you beautiful and artistic and quiet. They’re saying your home would be a place of perfect grace and harmony.”

  Aodhan didn’t know his sibling that well, not when they’d so recently reconnected, but he knew her enough to pick up a particular tone in her voice. “You don’t agree.”

  “It’s not my place.”

  “Imalia.”

  A long, dramatic sigh, eyes of clear green rolling upward in an elfin face. “No, I don’t agree. Your home with Suyin would be quiet and peaceful and it would bore you out of your gourd.”

  A tilt of the head as she pressed her lips together and shot him what he’d decided was a patented older sister look. “There’s a reason you’ve been best friends for hundreds of years with an angel made of quicksilver and mischief and wit.”

  So unexpected that she saw so clearly, his sister who’d been all but a stranger to him these many years.

  “Yes,” he said to Suyin under the pale gold of the morning sky. “We would amplify each other’s sadnesses.” As it was the first time she’d broached the rumors, it was the first time he’d put their past scars out into the open. “I feel it every moment we’re together.”

  Suyin inclined her head, the silk of her hair sliding against her skin. “You speak a painful truth, Aodhan. But we shall be friends, yes?”

  “Yes.” He genuinely liked Suyin, and when together, the two of them could talk forever about art and architecture. But there were also places he could never go with her. “We must talk about your second.”

  Dark eyes searching his. “Ah, I see the answer before you speak it. You won’t reconsider?”

  “This isn’t the right place or time for me to be second.” He knew that in his gut, tried not to look too deep, see the image of the archangel for whom he was waiting.

  Suyin’s sigh was heartfelt. “I shall miss you by my side, but a large part of me was expecting your final response. I’ll use the journey to our new home to consider my options.”

  Aodhan knew exactly who he’d place in the position of her second, but he couldn’t influence Suyin, not in this. Being second wasn’t only about power and skill but about the ability to bond to your archangel. “I will remain as long as you need.”

  “I know.” A smile that spoke of her faith in his honor, this extraordinary new archangel who’d helped him find his wings by accepting him at her side. “Take care as you investigate the oddities here. I would not have harm come to you o
r Illium.”

  “I’ll keep you updated.” He’d attempted to teach her how to use a phone and—to her credit—though she’d failed to retain the knowledge, she’d tried her best despite her age and distance from the current world. That was the difference between her and a pompous ass like Aegaeon, who refused to “lower himself” to modern technology.

  How Illium could’ve come from such “a stinking blot of donkey excrement” Aodhan would never know. He’d also be forever grateful to Titus for that description of Aegaeon, which Aodhan hadn’t been meant to overhear—but he had, and it gave him great pleasure to use it even if only inside his mind.

  * * *

  * * *

  An hour after his meeting with Suyin, Aodhan stood with Illium on the same stone pillar from which they’d watched dawn caress the landscape, a lover too long gone.

  Now, they watched Suyin lead her people home. She flew at the front, on alert for any danger, a combat squadron behind her.

  Far below the sea of wings moved a line of vehicles. Mortals in the core, ringed by civilian vampires, with trained vampire warriors on the outside. Because even a vampire untrained in combat could survive a lot more than a mortal, up to and including being disemboweled.

  “Still can’t believe there are no combat-capable mortals,” Illium said as he waved to a mortal boy who’d leaned out a window to look back and up at the two of them. With the sky a cloudless chrome blue, Aodhan glittered with light—there was no way for even those far below to miss the two of them.

  Illium’s new friend waved back with enthusiasm.

  “Do you think the mortal-immortal cooperation in New York was an artefact of war?” Aodhan asked. “Will the Tower’s link to the hunters and other mortals hold in the aftermath?”

  “Yes.” No hesitation in Illium’s response. “It’s Ellie. She’ll never lose her humanity—I guarantee you that. And it’s that humanity which brings mortal trust to the door. Without her, they would’ve still assisted us, but it wouldn’t be like it is now.”

  Aodhan believed his friend’s assessment. Of all the Seven, even the vampires who’d once been mortal themselves, it was Illium who best spoke the language of that firefly race whose lives blinked out between one beat and the next.

  “Remember how Raphael was becoming before her?” Illium added as wing after wing passed overhead. “Remember how Dmitri used to be? You were in the Refuge during that period, only saw them the odd time, but trust me, Aodhan. I witnessed the change day by day, saw they were getting harder and more cruel. Even their friendship, it changed.”

  This wasn’t the first time Aodhan had realized he’d missed far more than he knew when he’d sequestered himself. Oh, other than the immediate period around his healing, he’d done his duty, upheld his vows to his archangel. But it had all been at a distance, physical and emotional.

  “They’ve been friends for a millennium,” he said, struggling to understand. “What could’ve possibly happened to alter that?”

  “Immortality.” A short but full answer.

  Aodhan had seen the effect of an endless life on many of their kind. Some grew while remaining true to themselves at the core. Others altered beyond compare. The ones with the greatest power seemed the most vulnerable to the slow corrosion of their hearts. Such as archangels . . . and those powerful enough to be their seconds.

  “The vampire in Times Square,” he murmured. “The one whose bones Raphael crushed to pebbles.” Aodhan hadn’t been in the city then, but everyone in the world had heard of that very public chastisement against a being who’d thought to betray his archangel. “I can’t imagine a younger Raphael ever doling out such a harsh punishment.”

  Illium shrugged, his shoulders rippling under the faded black of his tee. “Maybe. Maybe not. Remember—we keep telling Suyin to be scary for a reason. A lot of our kind are so jaded that nothing but the most extreme punishment makes a mark.” He shoved a hand through his hair, the blue-tipped black strands so long they were getting into his eyes.

  “The thing that changed wasn’t his ability to do what was necessary, it was his empathy,” Illium said. “Raphael could’ve snuffed out a thousand mortal lives without thought—as can most of the archangels. Now . . . now Raphael loves Ellie, and he’s remembered what he almost forgot: that while mortal lives are short, they’re no less valuable than ours.”

  About to reply, Aodhan’s eye caught on the profile of a woman who sat in the back of a truck that currently had its covers rolled back. As with most angels, his vision was acute, so he had no trouble distinguishing her features. “There’s Fei. Do you know if she’s said anything else since our last update from Rii?” Aodhan had meant to follow up on that, forgotten in the rush to ensure a smooth departure.

  Illium shook his head, his skin strained over his jawline. “I caught Rii right before he got into his truck. He says if you press her she just keeps repeating ‘Goddess Lijuan’—other than that, she’s turned mute.”

  “You’ll have to get used to Lijuan’s shadow.” Aodhan had had to do the same after he first relocated to China. “No way to avoid it here.”

  Illium said nothing, and they watched the departure in silence. Even with the limited number of survivors, it took a long time for the last of the convoy to pass below—then overhead.

  General Arzaleya and her squadron dipped their wings in a coordinated good-bye, while the vampires driving below flashed their lights. No honking horns. No making extraneous noise that might draw out the dangers hidden within China’s beauty.

  Then they were moving on, slowly fading into the distance.

  Inside Aodhan’s mind came a familiar voice, elegant and feminine: Take care, Aodhan. Never forget that my aunt ruled this land for an eon. Her mark endures.

  I won’t forget, Aodhan promised. I would urge you to do the same. Simply because you’re far from her strongholds at any one point doesn’t mean it’s safe to drop your guard.

  Soft laughter. Oh, Aodhan. Do you think either of us will be capable of true trust ever again?

  Aodhan glanced at the blue-winged angel who stood next to him, straight backed and alert—and, despite his apology for how he’d blown up at Aodhan—still so angry under the skin. And yet who would, without hesitation, step into the path of a killing blow aimed at Aodhan. Yes. I’m capable of great trust, as are you. You trust me.

  So I do, my friend. I will see you soon.

  Her presence faded from his mind.

  And though the convoy would take a long time to vanish totally into the distance, they were now far enough away that it was difficult to make out individuals. Aodhan stirred his wings. “Shall we eat, then do a survey of the hamlet?” Neither one of them had eaten this morning, while burning considerable energy.

  Illium even more so than Aodhan, because Arzaleya had roped him into doing a rapid scouting run a significant distance out along today’s proposed route. Aodhan had watched Illium take off, a streak of blue against the cool light of dawn, and his stomach had wrenched at seeing him out alone in the sky of this dangerous land.

  Now, his friend gave a curt nod before lifting off.

  Eyes narrowed, Aodhan spread his own wings before rising more slowly into the air. No more, he thought. No more unsaid things, no more distance, no more simmering anger. Now that they were alone, it was time the two of them had this out.

  Only . . . they weren’t alone, were they?

  Kai, lovely and sensual and a mirror of Illium’s youthful obsession, was still here.

  26

  Yesterday

  Illium landed in front of the small studio Aodhan had claimed as his own on the outskirts of the Refuge. No one had been using it, and no one seemed to know to whom it had ever belonged, so Aodhan had asked permission from the second of the archangel in charge of that part of the Refuge—Uram—and been granted it.

  He and Illium had basically rebuilt the dilap
idated structure, until it was now a place full of light where Aodhan could paint. Illium didn’t usually interrupt his friend while he was creating—he knew the kind of concentration Aodhan demanded of himself. But he was too excited to stop himself today.

  “Adi!”

  Aodhan looked up from the huge canvas he’d laid out on the floor, his face dotted with bits of paint and his hands a mirage of color. His eyes were unfocused, and for a moment, Illium felt a sudden strange panic. But Aodhan hadn’t gone away as Illium’s mother had done; he snapped out of his art and into the present in a matter of heartbeats. “Did you pass the squadron entry tests?” A quick, eager question.

  When Illium screamed out a yes, Aodhan threw down his brush and rose in a glitter of light to grab Illium in a bear hug. Despite being younger, he’d grown to be a little taller, a little wider of shoulder, and being hugged by him felt like being enclosed by light, powerful and loving.

  They laughed as they drew apart, Aodhan slapping him on the shoulder. And even though he wasn’t an angel who liked big parties, he said, “I’m throwing you a celebration! Does Eh-ma know?”

  “No! I’m flying to her next! I’m so proud, Adi.” He’d wanted to be in Raphael’s forces as long as he could remember, but he’d known he’d have to earn it.

  He’d wanted to earn it.

  That he’d just done so at the earliest possible age he was eligible to take the test—a hundred—was a thing of incandescent joy. His day of birth would forever also be the date he became the most junior member of Raphael’s most junior squadron.

  “She’ll be so happy.” Aodhan was smiling as hard as Illium. “Let’s go.”

  As they went to move out of the studio, their wings companionably crushed against each other, Illium said, “Are you going to take the test when you’re eligible?”

  Aodhan was powerful, and had trained alongside Illium after the archangels made it clear Aodhan needed that training so he could better handle his growing strength. Illium hadn’t known until then that the Cadre had a team that kept an eye on the little angels in the Refuge, to ensure no unruly powers went off into the world.