Archangel's Consort (Guild Hunter #3)(26)

Sucking in a breath, she stared at the luxuriant black of the petals, a color so deep and rich she’d never before seen its like. She was controlling Ignatius?

Perhaps. It’s more likely she simply took advantage of urges he would have otherwise kept contained.

Elena blew out a breath, biting down on her lower lip. It’s a little pat, don’t you think, Archangel?

A pause. Wait there. I will join you.

Turning to Illium, Elena raised an eyebrow. “How did you know about the orchid? You weren’t born until hundreds of years after Caliane’s disappearance.”

“I did read some of my history books in school.” A disgruntled look. “Jessamy used to threaten to tie me to a desk unless I did my homework.”

She could just see him, a blue-winged boy with eyes of gold and a smile ful of mischief. But tempting as it was to follow that thought, she focused on the death that seemed to be stalking those closest to her. While she wasn’t convinced that Caliane had anything to do with this, about one thing she had no doubts whatsoever. “Raphael is the ultimate target.”

Everyone else was col ateral damage.

Her hands fisted against the cold-blooded malice of that truth just as Raphael walked into the room. Brushing his wing over her own, he moved past her to pick up the orchid. “Illium,” he said, “leave us.”

“Sire.”

Only after Illium was gone did Elena walk over to put her hand on Raphael’s arm, her eye on the flower that had seemed an innocent decoration minutes earlier. “Even if your mother is waking,” she said, having had time to think things through, “the turmoil around the world says that that awakening is hardly a calm, ordered thing. But going after my half sisters? That was very much a calculated act—a conscious act.”

Raphael dropped the orchid onto the clear glass of the bedside table. “You are forgetting my rage.”

“No, I’m not. That came out of nowhere, like the ice storms and other disasters. Who’s to say the rest of the Cadre isn’t feeling the same impact?”

Raphael went motionless. “You are right, Elena. I will speak to my people, find out if any of the other archangels have acted unlike themselves of late.”

Lifting his hand, he stroked his fingers along the sensitive arch of her wing.

She shivered. “You ask me—someone is using the disruption caused by the waking of an Ancient to his or her own advantage. Everyone knows the possibilities, knows that the one who wakes might well be your mother.” And that even an archangel could be blinded by the black crush of memory.

“They’re trying to rattle you.”

“They harm what is mine,” Raphael murmured, “by harming those you love.” His hand fisted in her hair. “It is a coward’s game.”

Hearing the cold condemnation in that statement, she knew the architect—or architects—of this vicious game would soon find themselves in the crosshairs of the Archangel of New York.




They were about to take off a few minutes later when Elena mentioned she was heading over to see if Sara had returned to the office.

“Illium will go with you.”

Elena blew out a breath, ready for battle. “Raphael.”

“I do not have time for this, Guild Hunter.”

She went to snap back a demand that he make time, but one look at his expression and annoyance was swept aside by a deeper, far more intense emotion. “Raphael, you look ...” Cruel. Heartless. “What are you going to do?”

His answer was austere. “A vampire thought to betray me. Now I must punish him.”

Ice trailed up her spine. Closing the small distance between them, she put her hand on the tip of his wing, holding him to her. His responding glance was that of the immortal he was—someone for whom mercy was a weakness. “Would you stop me, Elena?” A question asked without intonation as she moved to face him.

Spreading out her own wings to keep her balance on the edge of the roof, she narrowed her eyes. “I’m no innocent. You damn well know that.”

Midnight strands of hair danced over his face as the wind stroked through them, possessive as a lover. “Yet you stand in my way.”

“I know you need to control your vampires.” Every hunter knew the truth—that the almost-immortals were predators under the skin. Given free reign, they’d drown Manhattan in crimson, turn it into an abattoir devoid of life. “You have to deal with transgressions hard and fast to ensure no repeats.”

Raphael continued to watch her with that quiet, remote patience.

Frustrated, she growled low in her throat and grabbing at the white linen of his shirt, pulled him down toward her. She knew she’d startled him, but his hands locked tight around her hips to keep her from overbalancing on the ledge.

“You,” she said against those perfectly shaped lips that could turn cruel without warning. “You’re my priority. Punish who you must, but don’t do anything so terrible that it pushes you into the Quiet.” She hadn’t known him in that inhuman, emotionless state, was terrified of losing him to it even now. “Not that.

Never again, Raphael.”

A shudder passed through him, his hands flexing on her hips as he tugged her to his body. “You hold me to the earth, Elena.”

Able to feel the heated strength of him against her abdomen, she nipped at his lower lip with her teeth, relief a whisper of rain against her senses.