Angels' Flight(70)

“Good-bye,” she said to Nimra after Christian, his voice pure and beautiful, had sung a heartfelt farewell to a mortal who had been a friend to angels.

Nimra met the vampire’s eyes, so akin to her father’s and so very dissimilar. “If you ever need anything, you know you have but to call.”

Amariyah gave her a tight smile. “There’s no need to pretend. He was the only link between us. He’s gone now.” With that, she turned and walked away, and Nimra knew this was the last time she’d see Fen’s daughter. It didn’t matter. She had put things in place— Amariyah wouldn’t ever be friendless or helpless if in need. This, Nimra would do for Fen… for the friend who would never again counsel her with a wisdom no mortal was supposed to possess.

A big hand sliding into hers, his skin rougher than her own. “Come,” Noel said. “It’s time to go.”

It was only when he wiped his thumb across her cheek that she realized she was crying, the tears having come after everyone else had left the graveside. “I will miss him, Noel.”

“I know.” Sliding his hand up her arm, he placed it around her shoulders and held her close, his body providing a safe haven for the sorrow that poured out of her in an anguished torrent.


In the days after Fen’s death, Noel began to discover exactly how much the old man had done for Nimra. From watching over her interests when it came to Louisiana’s vampiric residents to ensuring the court remained in balance, Fen had been the center even as he positioned himself on the edges. With his loss came a time of some confusion, as everyone tried to figure out their place in the scheme of things.

Christian, of course, tried to take over, but it was clear from the start that he had too much arrogance to play the subtle political games Fen had managed with such ease… and that Noel quietly began to handle. Politician he wasn’t, but he had no trouble putting any idea of rank aside to get things done. As for his right to be in the court at all, he hadn’t asked Nimra’s permission to remain, hadn’t asked anyone’s permission.

He’d simply called Dmitri and said, “I’m staying.”

The vampire, who held more power than any other vamp Noel knew, hadn’t been pleased. “You’re slated to be stationed in the Tower.”

“Unslate me.”

Silence, then a dark amusement. “If Nimra ever decides you’re too much trouble, I’ll have a place waiting for you.”

“Thanks, but it won’t be needed.” Even if Nimra did attempt to throw him out, Noel was having none of it. She was painfully vulnerable right now, and without Fen here to guard her secrets from those who would use her grief to cause her harm, someone had to watch her back. Mind set, he began to do precisely that, using the members of the court, senior and junior, to Nimra’s advantage.

Sharp, loyal Asirani was the first to catch on. “I always knew we hadn’t seen the real Noel,” she said, a glint in her eye, then passed him a small file. “You need to handle this.”

It turned out to be a report about a group of young vampires in New Orleans who were acting out, having caught wind of Nimra’s grieving distraction. Noel was in the city by nightfall. All under a hundred, the vampires were no match for him— even together. He wasn’t only older; he was incredibly strong for his age. As with the angels, some vampires gained power with age, while others reached a static point and remained there.

Noel had grown ever stronger since he was Made, part of the reason he’d been pulled into the guard directly below Raphael’s Seven. When the vampires proved stupid enough to think they could take him on, he expended his pent–up energy, his protective fury at being unable to shield Nimra from the pain of Fen’s loss, on the idiots.

After they lay bleeding and defeated in front of him in a crumbling alleyway barely lit by the faint wash of yellow from a nearby streetlight, he folded his arms and raised an eyebrow. “Did you think no one was watching?”

The leader of the little pack groaned, his eye turning a beautiful purple. “Fuck, nobody said anything about a f*cking enforcer.”

“Watch your mouth.” Noel had the satisfaction of seeing the man pale. “This was a warning. Next time, I won’t hold back. Understood?”

A sea of nods.

Returning to his own room in the early-morning hours, while the world was still dark, Noel showered, hitched a towel around his hips, and headed into his bedroom with the intention of grabbing some clothes. What he really wanted to do was go to Nimra. She hadn’t slept since Fen’s death, would be in the gardens, but the fading bruise on his cheek where one of the vamps had managed to whack him with an elbow might alert her as to what he’d been up to. He wanted a little more time to settle into this new role before—“Nimra.”

Seated on the edge of his bed, her wings spread behind her and her body clad in a long, flowing gown of deepest blue, she looked more like the angel who ruled a territory than she had in days. “Where have you been, Noel?”





10


“New Orleans.” He would not lie to her.

A wrinkling of her brow. “I see.”

“Do you want the details?”

“No, not tonight.” Her gaze lingered on the damp lines of his body before she rose from the bed, her wings sweeping across the sheets. “Bonne nuit.”