Archangel's Heart

  Chest tight as they went up another flight, she said, "So?"

  Aodhan's only response was a slight nod.

  Exhaling in a rush, Elena spread her wings. "Okay, I've had enough stair climbing." From this height and configuration of exhibit levels and staircases, she could drop down then wing her way back up, making it appear as if she was simply taking in a lower level before flying up.

  Aodhan waited for her to spread her wings and fall before he followed. He'd clearly figured out what she planned to do, mimicked her exactly--as if, as her escort, he'd been warned of her intent. They winged up beat by beat, no air currents here to ride. Reaching the exhibit where they'd originally found Hannah, they saw she was still there, only on the other side of the staircase.

  Xander stood next to her, Valerius having taken a seat on a beautifully carved wooden bench not far away. It was clearly meant to offer a place from where to contemplate a particular piece of art, but the general was currently polishing his sword, which he usually wore across his back.

  Cristiano was seated on the ground, playing a knife through his hands as he chatted to Valerius.

  Elena felt her lips tug up at the corners. Yeah, she could only take so much of museums and galleries, too. "Xander," she said as she walked closer. "You enjoying the Gallery?"

  The young male flushed a little, reminding her once again of Izak. "I'm afraid I am more fond of the physical arts." He turned red almost as soon as the words were out.

  It took her a moment to figure out why.

  Laughing, she patted him on the arm. "Don't worry, kid, in this company, we understand you were talking about knives and swords and fists." Michaela, on the other hand, would've probably eaten him alive for that slip. "Even Hannah has her specialty weapon."

  "My paint knives," Hannah said proudly. "I can sever a jugular with one now."

  Xander stared at the elegantly gowned woman as if she'd grown another head. "But you're a consort."

  Scowling, Hannah waved a slender hand at Elena. "So is she."

  "Yes. But she was a hunter first. You were an artist."

  Elena just pointed at Aodhan, renowned for his artistry and the fact he was a warrior both.

  Swallowing, Xander nodded. "I meant no offense."

  So young, Elena thought, struck once again by how a being could live a hundred years and still be a youth. Angelkind, she'd come to learn, developed at a different pace, children remaining children for decades, their brains and bodies maturing in line with the eternity they were intended to survive.

  Sweet Sameon, whom she'd met soon after waking and with whom she talked at least once a week, was still much the same little boy though several years had passed. It would take up to ten years for him to show distinct development. It made Elena an anomaly that she'd lived less than any angelic youth, and yet was very much an adult.

  Human lives burned hotter, faster.

  "None taken," Aodhan said, as Hannah added, "In truth, a few years ago, you would've been right--I didn't believe I needed weapons. But"--sadness a heavy note in her voice--"the world is changing." She reached out to touch her fingers to one of Xander's hands, her nails painted a translucent shade that caught the light. "You know that better than anyone."

  Xander glanced away, blinking rapidly.

  Elena felt for him. He'd lost his mom and dad in a single strike. That he'd discovered his grandfather was awake might cushion that loss, but not enough, never enough. Some hurts were forever.

  Leaving him to get himself under control because pride was pride and grief didn't always need an audience, she moved to stand next to Hannah. "What are you looking at now?"

  "An illustrated manuscript." She traced the beauty of the graceful script through the glass. "Stunning, is it not?"

  "Hmm. I've seen better."

  Hannah glared at her. "When will I get to see the Grimoire?"

  "When you go to the Refuge." The only reason Elena had seen the ancient book Naasir had found for Andromeda was because the couple had come to New York a year earlier. Normally, the Grimoire lay in Jessamy's keeping at the Refuge Library, but as the one who'd unearthed it, Naasir had exerted his right to travel with it.

  According to him, he'd had to "fight" Jessamy for it, in the end resorting to stealing it out from under her nose and leaving a note in its place promising its return.

  Jessamy had threatened to strangle Naasir.

  He'd just looked smug and pointed out it was Andromeda's Grimoire, on loan to the Library. Andi, in turn, had told him to behave, though she'd been laughing at the time. The memory of Naasir's unrepentant smugness--and of the possessive, wild kiss he'd taken from Andi, leaving his mate breathless--had Elena grinning despite the tension in her gut.

  "Hey"--she nudged Hannah's shoulder with her own when her friend pretended to ignore her--"at least it's not entombed in Lumia, accessible to only the rarest of the rare." With the corner of her eye, she noticed Aodhan speaking to Xander, saw that the young male was paying attention.

  Valerius stayed in his seat, his attention apparently on his sword, but Elena had no doubt he was aware of every possible threat in the room. Those eyes missed nothing.

  Cristiano appeared more lax, but Elena had come to know the vampire during her friendship with Hannah, knew he was as dangerous as Aodhan. The man might give off a lazy vibe, might've once told her he liked nothing more than sunning himself like a cat, but he could move lightning fast when necessary.

  "Yes." Hannah glanced around, grooves forming around her mouth. "I appreciate the idea behind the Gallery. So many of our people's treasures would've been lost or damaged without the stewardship of the Luminata, but I cannot agree with the limited nature of access to it."

  The jeweled pins in the elaborate bun in which she wore her hair caught the light, sparkling in beautiful shatters. "When I create works of art, I do it because it is part of me and I must create. But afterward, when the work is done, I hope that it'll speak to people, that it'll open up their hearts or their minds. That cannot happen if the art is buried for safekeeping."

  "It's a kind of hoarding, don't you think?" Elena murmured. "The Luminata renounce sex, worldly possessions, all that, but they have this archive of treasures that belongs to them."

  "It belongs to all angelkind."

  "Lip service, Hannah." Elena glanced down at the exhibits all but empty of life below them. "If a random, nonpowerful angel rocked up and asked to enter the Gallery, do you think he or she would be admitted?"

  Hannah bit down on the lush curve of her lower lip, but despite the hesitant act, she was very much a consort in that instant. Contained and graceful, and with a spine that held a pure, unbreakable strength. "I want to think so, Ellie," she said softly, "but being here, feeling the pulse of this place. It is . . . not right."

  "Secrets have a way of rotting foundations when those foundations are meant to be built on truth and honor." Her gaze wanted to go to Aodhan, her soul itching to look at the miniature he'd retrieved.

  Forcing patience, she kept her attention on Hannah. "You ready to leave, get some air?"

  The other woman looked torn. "An oddness to the air or not, there is so much here for me to see. I do not know when Elijah and I will be able to return, not with the upheaval in the world." She put her fingers to the glass again. "Will you be very angry if I stay?"

  "Of course not. This is your jam."

  Hannah sighed. "I will be a very bad friend this trip, I'm afraid."

  "I'd be the same if you threw me into a room full of weapons across the ages." She frowned. "Speaking of which, where are the weapons? I know for a fact that at least one of Deacon's pieces was never used, but was commissioned to be displayed for its artistry." Her best friend's husband might be mortal, but his skill was revered by vampires and angels as well as humans. If he hadn't been so loyal to the Guild, he could've worked only for the immortals and wallpapered his home with money.

  As it was, the Guild's hunters always came first for Deacon--hunters, he s
aid when queried about his choice, needed their weapons to stay alive. He'd repair those weapons, create new ones when needed, then work on pieces for immortals. First the weapons meant to be used in combat. Last came the commissioned "art" pieces, or ones he guessed were meant to be displayed.

  "I build my weapons to be used, not to be kept shiny and clean and under glass," he'd said to her the last time she'd been over at their place for dinner. "I only do the odd show-piece because it means the immortal involved owes me a favor--which means he or she owes Sara a favor."

  And the head of the Hunters Guild did occasionally need to call in those markers.

  Raphael had gone with her to that dinner, had nodded at Deacon's reasoning. The two men had become friends of a kind over the past two years. Not the type of friendship Raphael shared with his Seven--it was too soon for that--but one that wasn't simply a surface acquaintance. They'd been forced into contact because of Elena and Sara's relationship--after Elena declared that the Archangel of New York would henceforth be attending all social events to which she was invited.

  That had caused a certain ripple.

  The funniest had been the day she landed at Guild Academy for a party and Raphael landed beside her. Everyone's jaws had dropped. The sole person who'd bet that Raphael would turn up that night--Ransom--had made a killing. Of course, her archangel hadn't stayed long, aware that his sheer power altered the balance of the situation, put everyone on edge.

  It was different with Deacon and Sara: though they, too, felt the impact of his power, they weren't in awe of him, saw him first as Elena's man. Everything else, even the fact he ruled North America, came second.

  "It is as when I met Dmitri," Raphael had said to her after their third dinner with the other couple. "I knew I had met a friend and it made sorrow fill my veins to know that he would be gone in a mere heartbeat."

  Except Dmitri had been Made a vampire against his will, while Deacon was content to live a mortal life. Elena knew because she'd asked both her best friend and Sara's husband if they wanted to be tested to see if they could become vampires. Not everyone had the right biology for it. Beth didn't.

  Sara had hugged her, smiled, then shaken her head. "We're happy to be mortal, Ellie."

  Her hug had held a fierce love; Sara understood that Elena was terrified of the day when Sara would no longer be there. The other woman had made Elena see that her own life was as dangerous, that it was possible Sara would outlive her, but what nothing could change was that Elena was becoming ever more immortal and her best friend, her sister of the heart, wasn't.

  As for Sara and Deacon's daughter, Zoe, she adored Raphael, had no fear of him.

  Elena had noticed that about her archangel. He terrified adults, but children gravitated toward him, tiny hands patting at his wings, small faces smiling up at him. He'd been known to take Zoe into his arms and fly so high that Sara complained of heart palpitations. But Raphael always returned Zoe safe and sound and so excited she couldn't stop dancing.

  "Perhaps the weapons are displayed in a different area?" Hannah's voice broke into her thoughts, had her lost for a second until she remembered that she'd asked about a weapons exhibit.

  "Maybe," she replied. "I'll ask Gian the next time I see him." It would give her an excuse to talk further to the Luminata. He was the key to the secrets of Lumia.

  23

  Ten minutes later, she, Aodhan, Xander, and Valerius were in the skies above Lumia, the miniature still with Aodhan. Elena wanted to scream with impatience but she kept it together. This was a normal thing for warriors to do when trapped in a place where they had few other outlets--fly, stay strong, get some exercise. And she had to be normal right now, because people were watching.

  Could be it was paranoia on her part, but she didn't think so: people were watching.

  Always.

  Beside her, Xander did an acrobatic flip that had her clapping. "Almost as good as Bluebell," she called out.

  He grinned, handsome and cocky. "Illium is famous for his skills."

  Together, the four of them flew for about an hour, and at one point, she was aware of Aodhan and Valerius flying wing to wing, discussing something. It wasn't until they'd landed in a large courtyard that Aodhan came to her. Bending to speak with his lips close to her ear, his breath warm against her skin, he said, "Valerius believes Xander is being monitored."

  "Why?" Yes, he was Alexander's grandson, but surely no one was idiotic enough to think to go after him? Alexander had kept his sanity after losing his son, but he'd raze the world in a rage if he lost his grandson.

  "Likely the same reason we are being monitored," Aodhan replied, his jaw a grim line. "I want to examine your and Raphael's quarters again."

  Elena nodded. "I still get the creeps if I step into the bedroom to retrieve stuff from the wardrobe."

  "Consort." Xander bowed in front of her, the movement unexpectedly elegant. "Would you and Aodhan do me and General Valerius the honor of accompanying us for lunch?"

  "Only if you promise to call me Elena."

  His pupils dilated to fill his irises, even as a shy delight warmed his skin from within. "Thank you, but my grandfather would be displeased."

  Elena sighed. "Guild Hunter, then."

  "Guild Hunter," he said with a smile.

  "Let's go grab lunch." She was starving after missing breakfast.

  That lunch was laid out for them on the large dining table in the Atrium. The only other person in the cavernous room right now was Riker, Michaela's pet vampire propping up the wall beside the inner chamber. Waiting for his mistress.

  Elena had a feeling he'd been here since Michaela went in.

  Ignoring him when he blew her a kiss, she took in the room in daylight. She'd noticed the glass dome of the ceiling last night, now saw the glass was carved with complex patterns that scattered sunshine on the walls of the room, turning the stone into a living artwork that would change throughout the day.

  "Wow," she said. "I might not have artistry in my veins, but even I know that's incredible work."

  Aodhan was also staring rapt at the walls. "This is one of Ophelia's pieces. She was renowned for her light work."

  "She Asleep?"

  "I don't know," Aodhan said. "She was long gone from the world by the time of my birth, only her art left behind to tell us of her gift."

  A groan of sound, the large doors of the inner chamber opening.

  The first to exit was Michaela, a cruel kind of amusement writ large on her features. She was wearing a bodysuit in deepest red, with a skirt of the same color that had a large split along one thigh that revealed her boot-clad leg with every step. Giving the table straining with food a disdainful glance and not even bothering to sharpen her verbal knives on Elena, she walked straight to the other door and out.

  Riker followed at her heels.

  Astaad exited next, followed Michaela out. His expression was more pained than anything, his fingers rubbing his temples as if to ease a headache.

  Other archangels left the inner chamber one by one and they all, each and every one, headed out of the Atrium. Elena didn't blame them--she'd have searched for clear air, too, if she'd been trapped inside half the day.

  Raphael emerged after Titus, Elijah at his side.

  Archangel, she said. You want to fly? Then she noticed that his wings weren't solid anymore. Did that happen in the meeting?

  No, just now. He spread them, to gasps from those who'd never before seen those wings of white fire.

  Even Elijah looked impressed.

  Caliane and Alexander exited as Raphael closed his wings. Caliane's face went white for an instant. Whatever she said to Raphael, it wasn't audible, and then Raphael was turning to say something to her in return, his head leaning toward her own.

  Mother and son, Elena thought, that's who they are at this instant, not archangel and Ancient.

  Walking around them, Alexander went straight to Valerius and Xander. "Come," he said. "I need fresh air."

 
Elijah was the next to pass. "I assume my consort is in the Gallery?" he said, the power of him shoving against Elena's senses.

  Sometimes, she wondered how Hannah could possibly be with someone so other, then she'd realize Raphael was exactly the same. "You guess right."

  "No, you do not, Eli." Hannah's gentle voice from behind them, a smile in her tone. "I was hoping the Cadre would set itself free for a break at midday." Placing her hands on her consort's chest, she rose on tiptoe and brushed her lips over his.

  They were astonishingly beautiful together, Elijah's golden hair glinting in the sunlight that came in through the dome and the sharply handsome lines of his face looking down into Hannah's, her skin glowing with life and her elegance innate, her eyes a luminous dark. What made it even more beautiful were the small smiles on their faces, the smiles of two people who had loved one another so long that they needed to make no big declarations.

  "I will paint them," Aodhan whispered to Elena. "Just like this, with the light from Ophelia's work scattering a filigree over their bodies and Eli's wings unfolding unconsciously as if to curve around Hannah."

  "Ah, you must love me then, Hannahbelle." Elijah's smile grew deeper, the golden brown of his eyes as luminous as his consort's. "To have torn yourself away from the art of which you've been speaking since the instant we heard of this meeting."

  Hannah's response was silent, but whatever she said, it made Elijah laugh and slide one hand to her lower back as they walked out, Cristiano joining them at the door.

  "Hannahbelle?" she asked her archangel when he came to stand in front of her, Caliane moving past him to meet Tasha, who'd just arrived.

  "I have never heard anyone call her that," Raphael said. But I have never heard anyone else call you Elena-mine either, hbeebti.

  You have a point. It delighted her that even after all these centuries, Hannah and Elijah could play with one another. Is your mom okay? She hadn't looked okay.

  Raphael's expression was difficult to read. Seeing my wings ignited a memory of pain. My father--he died in a blaze of fire.

  Yeah, about that. She shot a glance at Tasha. Can you reach Tasha with your mind?