Archangel's Prophecy (Guild Hunter #11)(13)

“No.” The Primary says they remember white owls with golden eyes from long ago, but they do not know why they remember.

Elena ran her fingers through his hair, dusting off stubborn particles of snow. “No point wasting our time obsessing about it.” Words that held a resolute decisiveness. “We’ll find out when the Cascade is ready to let us know.”

I do not do well with such a lack of control, hbeebti. Especially when it involved her. His hunter whose mortal heart had permanently altered his own and in so doing, saved him from an eternity of numbness and ice.

She patted his chest. “We all have crosses to bear. My most annoying one right now isn’t the voice that waxes rhapsodical about owls, but this.” She pointed to the wing she continued to hold stiffly. “Nisia says it’s a toddler’s injury.” A sulky look to her that would’ve made him smile at any other time. “She did what healers do, but she couldn’t repair the entire tear.”

Raphael ran his hand down the wing, sending healing energy into her before she could stop him. That energy was more potent than anything possessed by even angelkind’s most senior healer, but it remained stuck at a frustratingly low level in terms of capacity. Raphael’s body only ever contained a trivial amount, and once utilized, it took time to rebuild it.

But it was enough to further Nisia’s work and ease his consort’s pain.

She sighed, moving her wing more naturally after he was done. “Next time I get all noble and turn down your ability to heal”—she pointed a finger at him—“ignore me and do that.”

“Next time you will not have a chance to argue with me. I will do what must be done to care for my consort.”

“Come, Your Archangelness.” Laughter in the curve of her lips as she teased him, a fading of the lines around her eyes. “Montgomery brought me more goodies to feed my bottomless pit of a stomach.” Scrunching up her nose at the demands her body placed on her as it grew deeper into immortality, she said, “I haven’t got any alcohol out here, so I’ll fix you a coffee and you can tell me about what’s happening at the sinkhole.”

“As in the old movie we saw where the wife waits for her husband with a hot meal and perfectly groomed hair?”

“Don’t forget the pink frilly apron,” said the woman whose hair was escaping her braid in curling tendrils around a face that bore a smudge of dirt—and whose body generally bristled with knives.

Far more at home with such a welcome, Raphael ran his hand down the glory of her wing as she moved to the part of her workbench that held the trays of food and drink. “We’ve finished erecting the fence around the sinkhole.” Raphael had assisted in shifting the necessary building materials—an archangel could fly with considerably more than even his most senior angels.

The construction itself had been done by a mix of human and vampiric firms. The line between mortals, and vampires and angels remained, must remain; but Raphael’s city functioned great deal more cohesively than most. The battle with Lijuan followed by the rebuilding process had forged certain ties of loyalty and cooperation.

“You built in the windows I suggested?”

“Do not worry, Elena, your curious cats will not pay a fatal price.” Smash-proof, the viewing panels had been placed at a number of points around the fence. “Angelic guards will prevent others from overflying the lava.” While the furious burst of unknown energy had pushed Elena out of danger, that could’ve been nothing but luck.

And the idea of her life hanging on such a slim thread was enough to freeze Raphael’s breath in his lungs. “Honor spoke with a number of scholars who study the earth.” Dmitri’s wife was a scholar of growing renown in her own field of ancient cultures and languages. “All agree there should be no lava at that location and depth. It is not a thing of nature.”

Pouring coffee into a mug, Elena knit her brow. “It sounds suspiciously like how Naasir and Andromeda described finding Alexander.”

“Alexander has a gift for metals. He deliberately created a barrier that would protect his Sleeping body.”

After passing him the coffee, Elena began to pluck the browned leaves off one of her plants. “Is there a chance we’ve got a Sleeping archangel or Ancient below your territory?”

“If an Ancient chose to Sleep in this place before it became mine, I would have no way of knowing.” Even the most powerful immortals gave off no energy while they Slept, the reason why they could rest without being interrupted.

Putting the potted plant back in its hanging basket, Elena moved on to the next one on her bench. “It’d be bad, wouldn’t it?” She met him with those eyes of penetrating gray that had become more and more true silver as her immortality advanced. “If another archangel woke up.”

“It would fracture the fragile balance of the world.” Lijuan’s disappearance had alleviated the rising pressure that had resulted from eleven archangels being awake at once. The Cadre of Ten had run at a lower number at times during angelic history, but never at a higher one. The world was not big enough to separate out that many devastating powers.

“If another archangel does wake,” he said, “we cannot guarantee that their demands will be like my mother’s.” Caliane hadn’t insisted on a large territory upon waking, content with a small part of Japan. Alexander, by contrast, had wanted all his former territory.