Archangel's Heart (10 page)

Ah, the wild creature.
Alexander's lips curved.
As for Xander, I can see to the safety of my grandson better than anyone else—and when I'm not there, Valerius will be. Xander will be better protected than if he was at home.

Raphael wasn't so certain.
The world has changed since you were last awake, Alexander. Laws have been broken, lines crossed. You know this better than anyone.

Eyes of pure silver met Raphael's, the lines of Alexander's face brutal in their hardness.
Anyone who touches him will die by my hand, Raphael. I will then annihilate their lands and lines until no trace remains of their blood. This is a promise of which everyone will soon become aware.

Elena glanced at Raphael but didn't speak, not until he said,
We are private now, Guild Hunter.

He won't change his mind
, she said.
And I don't think it's arrogance—he lost his son, wants his grandson in his sight so he can protect him.

Raphael understood, but he also understood that Alexander couldn't always be with Xander.
Are you available for babysitting?

Elena smiled.
Ah, what the heck. It'll keep me from missing Izzy.

The youngest member of his consort's Guard was closer to one hundred than two hundred, but it wasn't that big of a gap when it came to angelic growth. The difference between a young mortal of eighteen or nineteen and one of twenty, twenty-one.

“Your grandson is welcome to keep company with my consort and Aodhan,” Raphael said aloud. “He will, of course, fall further in love with Elena, but the boy will have to risk a broken heart if he wishes to learn to dance with a warrior consort. She may even shoot bolts at him to keep herself amused.”

Alexander's laughter was unexpected, a warm, full-blooded sound that had his grandson sweeping around and up toward his grandfather. “Raphael, I envy you.” With that, he dropped to meet his grandson, and the two of them angled toward Lumia.

He did not take offense at the offer
, Raphael said to Elena.
So you may well find yourself with a young pup at your side. Valerius is an ancient general, a little rigid personally, but brilliant with strategy. Where Xander goes, he's apt to be close.

Elena frowned.
Is Aodhan okay with Valerius?

I will ask.

When Aodhan came down to join them, in their slow sweep toward a landing, he said, “I have only had minor contact with Valerius through the centuries, but he has always struck me as honorable. I don't foresee any problems.”

Then they were landing in what appeared to be a central courtyard, the pavings of a lighter stone than the walls of Lumia, the plantings around the courtyard simple grasses kept ruthlessly in control.

Alexander and Xander were already down; Valerius landed beside Aodhan. When the general held out his forearm in the way of warriors, Raphael felt Elena tense, touched her gently on the back.
It is no attempt at one-upmanship or insult, but rather the opposite
, he said to her.
Given the gap in their ages
,
Valerius likely isn't aware of Aodhan's abhorrence for touch.

Aodhan didn't hesitate. He responded by clasping his hand over the gauntlet that covered the general's forearm, while the general did the same, his hand closing over Aodhan's leather gauntlet. Only someone who knew Aodhan really well would've caught the stiffness of his wings, the relief that colored his eyes when the contact ended.

“Consort.” Alexander came over just as Elena finished unzipping the sides of the bottom half of her dress enough to permit her free movement. “Allow me to officially introduce my grandson. Xander, this is Elena.”

The young male's smile was shy and it did put Raphael in mind of Izak, or Izzy as Elena called him.

“Consort.” Xander bowed his head low as befit a youth of his age in the presence of an archangelic consort; the fact he was an Ancient's grandson made no difference. Warriors earned their own standing and Raphael knew Alexander well enough to understand that the Ancient would expect nothing less from his blood.

Even Rohan, his beloved son, had gone through the same
training as any young soldier. When he made general, it had been through his own skill and efforts.

“Xander.” Elena held out her forearm.

The young male seemed stunned for a second before he responded to clasp her forearm. “You honor me.”

Elena grinned. “Finally, someone who sees my greatness.” The laughing dryness of her tone made even Alexander's lips curve up.

Elena had just released Xander's forearm, the youth even more in her thrall if his expression was anything to go by, when Luminata whispered out of the walls around them.

“A
well-executed illusion,” Raphael said to his consort, his voice low enough that it would reach only her.

Her eyes narrowed. “They're good at it,” she replied at the same volume. “I didn't hear or glimpse them until they wanted to be noticed.” She brushed her wing over his, the barest contact to slide under the radar of those who might be watching.
I don't know what these Luminata have convinced angelkind is their purpose and aim, but they move like they have combat training.
“I'm starting to think they're more warrior monks than philosophers on the road to enlightenment.”

Raphael had to agree with her now that he'd seen the way the Luminata moved, the grace in their bodies, the contained strength beneath the pale, golden brown robes that covered them neck to toe. Including over their wings. That was extraordinary—no angel liked his wings confined.

However, when a light wind lifted the hem of one of the robes, he saw that the robe was in three sections at the back. The fabric was heavy enough not to part over the wings in ordinary movement, but should one of the Luminata wish to fly, they could snap out their wings without problem. Despite that, the effect was subtly disturbing to an angel. Not only did
their silhouettes appear misshapen, but they were covering so much of what defined their identity.

Their heads were currently uncovered, but Raphael could see the hoods that lay on their backs, between the covered arches of their wings. Once pulled up, those hoods would shadow their faces, turning individuals into the anonymous many.

That, he realized, was the aim.

And while such anonymity might've made sense in a mortal monastery, it didn't here, with immortals all over a millennia old. Each of them was very much an individual, and nothing Raphael knew of the Luminata suggested they advocated conformity of thought. The path to luminescence, as explained to him, had always been a journey done by one alone, though other Luminata might provide guidance or support.

“Welcome.” The word was spoken by a strikingly handsome man of medium height with eyes of a pale green almost as arresting as Aodhan's shattered gaze, and hair of a thick, shining brown that was echoed in his primary feathers, the male's wings otherwise pure white—because of all the Luminata in the courtyard, he alone did not wear a robe designed to hide his wings.

Elsewise, he was dressed identically to the others.

“I am Gian.” His skin shone a flawless cool white in the sunshine. “My brothers do me the honor of calling me Luminata.”

You didn't say this was a male-only deal.

I did not know
, Raphael responded, taking note when Gian's eyes lingered on Elena for a beat too long—it could be simple curiosity about a new consort, but Raphael took nothing for granted.
Angelkind rarely breaks along gender lines. Any demarcation is usually tied to age and power.

“I am glad to have you here,” Gian said. “Please, let us show you to your rooms so that you may refresh yourself.” His smile appeared to hold the purest serenity, as if he was no longer quite on the same plane of existence. “Favashi and Neha arrived an hour earlier, and I'm told that Caliane's wings have been spotted on the horizon. The others cannot be far behind.”

He swept his hand gently to the left, the movement as graceful as a perfectly balanced sword curving through the air. “My brothers will guide you. Please take no offense that I
do not do so myself—I must remain here to welcome the remainder of the Cadre.”

There is a strange peace in listening to him.
Aodhan's voice in Raphael's mind, the sensation of color and light accompanying the words a mental echo of his physical form.

Yes. A strange peace is a good description
, Raphael replied, just as Elena said,
That guy is spooky. Not creepy. Spooky.

Raphael waited to respond until they were following their silent escort down an open outdoor corridor, light pouring in through the curved openings on either side that showcased the astonishing beauty of the landscape around Lumia.
What is the difference between spooky and creepy?

Creepy is Lijuan.
No further explanation was forthcoming—or needed.
Spooky can go either way. You know that holy man I met? He was so much at peace that he was spooky. Like he'd become something different from all the rest of us on this planet. But on the flip side, spooky can mean a seriously dangerous mind—just because a person's not part of this world doesn't mean the world he is part of isn't a whackjob nutso place.

Do you believe the latter of Gian?

A small shrug.
Got no reason to—honestly, I'd have been a little disappointed if immortal monks turned out to be normal. Have to expect a little spookiness of people who consciously isolate themselves for centuries or millennia, their goal so elusive it must be like trying to find a dream.

Raphael considered her words as Alexander, his grandson, and Valerius's stocky form were led off through a closed hallway to the right, one that appeared to have no end from this perspective.
They are positioning us far from one another.

That's good, right?
Lines formed between Elena's eyebrows as they passed the entrance to that hallway and the three disappeared from view.
Since it's dangerous if you're too close together?

It makes no difference when we are all within the same region.
The Cadre could remain in close proximity for a short number of weeks before things began to go catastrophically wrong.

The world wasn't designed to allow the close coexistence
of that much power. It began to build and build inside the archangels until the only way to get it out was to attack one another—regardless of whether the sane part of their nature might argue against such an action.

Even Raphael's parents, no matter their piercing love for one another, had been unable to always be together. Nadiel, through no choice of his own, had been missing from Raphael's childhood for long periods. At least until Raphael got old enough to travel occasionally to his father's territory during the times when his parents had to be apart. Caliane's joy at their return had always been a dazzling song that made Raphael's heart ache with happiness that his parents were together again.

But you are right
, he added when Elena turned a worried face to him,
the separation is likely a simple courtesy. The Luminata may be taking the safest option, given that they do not know which of the Cadre are enemies with one another and which are allies.
Raphael made a note of their route nonetheless, along with any other corridors and doors they passed along the way.

He knew his hunter and Aodhan were doing the same.

“Archangel. Consort. I am Gervais.” Their escort's voice was rougher than Gian's, his face long and saturnine under skin of a dark mahogany. “Your suite.” Using one hand, he opened a door of smooth honey-colored wood polished to such a high shine that it appeared like stone.

It was identical to every other door they'd passed.

“Dinner will be announced by use of the central bell,” the tall, thin male said, his presence along the same continuum as Gian's—not as oddly peaceful, but with an internal confidence that said the outer world did not matter to him as much as his personal journey. There was certainly no indication that he was intimidated by being in the presence of an archangel.

“We have placed refreshments within your suite. Please rest and explore as you will. The Luminata do not have secrets.” Moving back with an unexpectedly shallow bow, he indicated that the room across the hall was Aodhan's, then disappeared down the corridor in a whisper of faded golden brown robes that blended into the stone of Lumia, his wings hidden beneath the heavy garment.

Elena frowned after the Luminata brother but didn't say anything until they were behind the closed door to their suite. “There's something off about this place,” she muttered. “Gian's spookiness aside, the sense of peace I expected is missing.” She rubbed her hands over her upper arms. “You know, like when you walk into a place of worship? It might not be a religion to which you ascribe, but there's always this hushed reverence about the place.”

“I am not mortal, Elena. Mortal religions are not mine.”

“Right. Well, think of your mystic, how being near him made you feel.”

It had been a long time ago, but the memory was at the surface of his mind after their earlier conversation. “I see your meaning,” he said, walking across the thickly carpeted front room and past a seating area of white painted furniture with velvet gray cushions; his goal was the back wall set with a small stained glass window.

When he opened it, it was to find it looked out not onto the outside slopes but an internal hallway identical to those through which they'd walked. “It's not simply a lack of psychic peace. From within, Lumia feels more like the Refuge stronghold of another archangel.”

The shallow bow from an escort who had not earned that right, the fact Gian had taken the names of the Cadre without adding “Archangel” to the front, the Luminata who'd watched them from the shadows, their faces hidden under the hoods of their robes, none of it was as it should be.

Elena came to stand beside him as he pulled the window shut. “Maybe it's just because they're immortals who've been by themselves for way too long.” Nodding at the window, she said, “They've buried us.”

“Yes.” Raphael considered their route to the suite. “Did you notice anything about the architecture?”

“Yes, it's not exactly convenient for a people with wings. Ceilings are relatively low for angelic dwellings, and once past the courtyard, there aren't any openings from which to take off.” She glanced around, saw a notepad of thick cream paper on a small white writing desk. Beside it was a pen.

Taking both, she began to draw. “These are all the courtyards we saw from above.”

“You've memorized them?” He could blast through stone if need be, but his consort wasn't powerful enough to smash her way out.

“Yes, but I'll need to do some exploring, get an idea of distances involved.” Putting down the map, Elena stared at the door through which they'd entered. “The corridors are so circular and winding that it's hard to figure out how much time it'll take to go anywhere.”

Raphael closed his hand around the side of her neck. “Stay with Aodhan as much as you can. This place . . . it has a darkness to it that may simply be a result of secrecy and long isolation, but we will take no chances.”

Elena rose on her toes to brush her lips over his, her hands on his shoulders. “I won't drop my guard. I mean seriously, even if the Luminata are just odd because they spend so much time alone out here, there's still Michaela, Charisemnon, and the others to worry about.” She twisted her lips . . . but her jaundiced expression turned suddenly into a smile. “Do you think Astaad will bring Mele?”

“He knows you are friends, so perhaps.” Astaad also favored Mele above all his other concubines. “But Mele is a beautiful, fragile bloom—he may not bring her into such a perilous situation.” Astaad had his faults but his care of his concubines wasn't one of them. “You will still have Hannah.” Elijah's consort was as fragile a bloom as Mele, an artist happier with a paintbrush than with a blade, but custom dictated that she be at Elijah's side for this gathering.

“We've already made plans to meet up.” Where Elena wanted to explore the nooks and crannies of Lumia and get into their historical archives, Hannah was itching to look through the repository of angelic art held in trust by the Luminata.

“I figure if we get bored, Hannah'll teach me about art so I can pull off snooty if need be”—she raised her nose into the air and pursed her lips like a stuck-up antique dealer she'd met once during a hunt—“and I can teach her how to throw knives more accurately. Paint knives, of course, since that's her weapon of choice.”

Raphael's laughter wrapped around her like the crashing sea. “I'm sure Elijah will be most grateful. Hannah's aim
leaves much to be desired, and with the pumas who follow her around like pets, she's beginning to rely on them for her personal safety during the times she's otherwise on her own.”

Elena shook her head, conscious Elijah had been attempting to teach Hannah defensive skills for years. “She's stubborn in her own way.”

“All consorts worth their salt know how to stand their ground.”

“Sweet talker.” Her words were light, but Elena's skin prickled; she didn't like how little she knew about this place, saw the same disquiet in the hard lines of Raphael's expression. “Want to look around?”

Raphael's nod was curt. “But first, eat something. Energy is finite and your body is still burning an incredible amount of it as you grow further into your immortality.”

Having begun to feel the sharp pangs of a hunger that seemed endless these days, her body so hungry for fuel that she was going through a box of energy bars a day in between meals, Elena didn't argue, just picked up a large handful of nuts and dried fruits. If it was fuel her body needed to become stronger, tougher, then she'd drink every energy shake Montgomery made her, chew down endless bars, eat like a freaking linebacker.

The stronger she was, the less people would look on her as vulnerable prey—and the less chance that an enemy would get to her archangel through hurting her. When she put one of the dried fruits to Raphael's lips, he took the offering with a brush of his lips on her fingers. A sweet kiss. It made her feel like a silly teenage girl—but then, she'd never been that. So maybe she was due.

“Try this.” Raphael fed her a hunk of cheese that had a rich, creamy taste to it. “It's a delicacy, meant to be partnered with these peppers.”