Archangel's Blade (Guild Hunter #4)(97)

“Eris,” Raphael said, his vision acute. “The word is ‘Eris.’ ”

Dmitri frowned. “Neha’s consort? No one has seen him for centuries.” Even as he spoke, his eyes fell once more on the leaves from the sugar maple tree. “Neha,” he said, an old piece of knowledge jarred loose in his mind, “has no properties in this territory, but Eris had a liking for it before he went into seclusion.” Whether that seclusion had been by choice was debatable, for Dmitri had heard rumors that Neha’s consort had betrayed her with another woman, been punished for it for the past three hundred years.

It wasn’t impossible that Kallistos’s position in Neha’s court had allowed him access to Eris, and, whatever else he had become, Isis’s lover had proven intelligent. More so perhaps than Eris—who had always been Neha’s gleaming ornament of a consort, a beloved plumed bird the archangel had showered with jewels and silks. “Kallistos must be using Eris’s estate as his base.”

“Go,” Raphael said, gathering the hurt angel’s body closer to his own. “Take all the men you need.”

“Sire.” I won’t leave the city vulnerable. There’s still a chance Neha’s hand is behind this. The archangel hated everyone who had helped execute her daughter, Anoushka—Raphael was amongst that number. This may be a trap to draw us away.

I’m more than capable of defending my city, Dmitri.

And she is more than capable of poisoning the air itself if it suits her purpose. I’ll go alone. I’m strong enough to handle Kallistos, even if he has more of his protovampires with him.

Raphael’s blue eyes were relentless. You will take Illium.

I am not blinded by the past. His decisions were rational, coldly so.

Nevertheless. Raphael’s expression changed the barest fraction. I would not lose my second.

Dmitri bowed his head in a slight nod. “Honor,” he said after the archangel walked out with his living cargo, “I’m going to take the chopper to Vermont—”

Stalking to stand face-to-face with him, she pushed at his chest. “If you’re even thinking about leaving me behind, think again.”

He should’ve stood firm, would have had it been any other woman. But Honor . . . she had her hooks so deep into him that it made the old, merciless part of him go motionless, examine the situation—and his sudden vulnerability—with icy focus. To destroy this strange, wonderful something between them, all it would take were a few well-chosen words of utmost cruelty.

Honor was smart, but she was also tender of heart. She didn’t know the depths to which he could go, the wounds he could inflict. He could make her bleed without ever raising a hand. “I am not a good man, Honor,” he said, touching his fingers to her jaw.

Instead of shying, she leaned into the touch. “You’re my man.”

You’re my man.

The echo of Ingrede’s words tangled with Honor’s, but then, his wife had been tender of heart, too. He’d protected that heart with all his strength . . . and he knew that despite the deep weakness she created in him, he would do so once more with Honor. It was a strange thing, to feel such tenderness again, to know he was capable of it. “Come. It’s time to beard the monster in his den.”





Venom was the one who most often piloted the chopper for use by the Seven, but Dmitri knew how to do it—he’d been curious when the machines had been invented. Though he found more pleasure in handling cars, he’d kept up the useful skill. Now, having delayed only long enough to change and gather weapons, he lifted the black machine off the helipad situated not on top of the Tower, but several floors below, on a balcony cut into part of the building.

“Illium?” Honor’s voice came through crystal clear, both of them miked, ears protected against the noise of the blades.

“He’s already on his way.” The blue-winged angel was one of the fastest fliers amongst his kind and would beat them to Vermont. “I’ve been in contact with the Made who live in and around the general region of Eris’s property.”

“I rang a couple of hunter friends nearby, too.” Her scent twined around him in the confines of the cockpit, fine ropes he knew he’d never break. “None of them had heard anything.”

“Neither had my people—but Kallistos is no youth.” He wouldn’t have done anything to draw attention to himself near his lair. “I’m certain we’ll find him there.”

“One way or another,” Honor said, reaching out to brush her fingers over his jaw in an unexpected caress, “tonight will finish this.”

“How do you understand?” That it savaged him to realize this small piece of Isis survived when his family’s ashes had been scattered by the wind so long ago, entire civilizations had risen and fallen in that time.

No longer touching him, she said, “I know you, Dmitri.” A fisted hand over her heart, her voice soft, potent with raw emotion. “Right here, so deep it feels as if you’ve been a part of me since the instant I took my first breath.”

Reaching out, he brought her fist to his lips, pressed a kiss to the knuckles. She robbed him of words, of sophistication, until he was once more the man he’d been with his wife—harder, deadlier, but with the capacity to feel emotions both beautiful and terrifying. He would spill blood for the mortal by his side, split open his veins if she asked, slay demons and enemies until the world shivered at the sound of his name.