Archangel's Enigma (Guild Hunter)(40)

At least the rain washed off the worst of it as they walked.

“Why did you decide to study the Sleeping archangels?” Naasir asked some time later.

She noted that his voice was less growly now—she liked it either way. The only voice she didn’t like was the cold, cultured tone he’d used when she’d first made him angry. “I’m just fascinated by the idea of all these powerful beings resting in hidden places on and in the earth.”

“How many?”

“No one knows. The Ancestors are stories we tell children, but there are more credible legends of Ancients who’ve Slept so long that they, too, have become myth.” She bit her lip and admitted her secret wish. “Jessamy says Alexander could sometimes be coaxed to speak of times of myth. They are his memories. With him and Caliane both in the world, we could find out so much.”

“Caliane speaks to you?”

“No—to Jessamy. Even then it’s not often, but Jessamy visited her soon after you left Amanat; she said Caliane was most gracious and generous.” Andromeda knew the Historian, her wing twisted and unable to take her aloft, remained highly conscious of not being glimpsed by ordinary mortals, for angelkind could not be seen to be weak in such a way, but that wasn’t an issue in Amanat.

When Jessamy wanted to view things in more populated environs, she skimmed the landscape in a light plane or in a helicopter modified to fit angelic wings while hiding the occupants from view. Usually the occupant was a single slender angel. Jessamy had quietly learned to operate both those vehicles.

Andromeda saw in Jessamy’s determination a woman who was her hero. The other angel had survived thousands of years before inventors gave her a way to take to the skies on her own. Andromeda could survive five hundred years in a court devoid of hope.

“According to Caliane,” she said, setting aside the inevitable for this night, “counting Alexander, there are seven archangels who Sleep.”

“What if they all wake up at once?”

“It would be catastrophic.” Archangels couldn’t be in close proximity for long periods without a dangerous rise in their aggression. Ten was the perfect number spread out across the world. One or two more could be accommodated, but after that . . . “We’d end up with back-to-back wars until the balance was restored.”

“Natural law,” Naasir said bluntly. “Nature will always seek to maintain balance.”

“Yes.” She checked on Suyin again, shook her head when Naasir looked at her. “No improvement.”

Face set in harsh lines, Naasir kept on walking.

“I don’t only study Sleeping archangels,” Andromeda said in an effort to keep their minds off the bleak situation. “If you promise not to laugh, I’ll tell you about my other studies.”

Open curiosity. “Tell me.”

“Promise you won’t laugh first.”

Lips curving, Naasir snapped his teeth playfully at her. “How can you ask me to make the promise after that?”

She glared because he’d made her jump again, but told him. “I study creatures,” she said, waiting for the condescending amusement she saw so often on the faces of her colleagues. “Like shape-shifters,” she continued when he just listened, “mermen and mermaids, griffins, chimera, walkers . . . things like that.”

“Why study the impossible?”

“Because the stories must’ve begun somewhere. And . . . I like to think there remain mysteries in the world.”

“I think mermen and mermaids make sense.”

“You do?” She narrowed her eyes but he didn’t look like he was making fun of her. “Why?”

“The world is covered in water. Why shouldn’t a species have evolved to live in that water?” A silver-eyed glance. “You should ask the Primary. Maybe the Legion are the truth behind the legend. They did live an eon in the deep.”

The hairs rose on her arms. “I’ve been desperate to speak to them,” she whispered, her historian’s heart overflowing. “I know Jessamy’s had some contact with the Primary, but I didn’t want to ask for his time for my little subspecialty.”

“I’ll introduce you when you’re ready,” Naasir said. “I’ll even sneak you into their new green home.”

Andromeda almost danced on the spot, forgetting for a moment that she wouldn’t have the freedom to do such things soon. “What about griffins?”

He took time to think before speaking. “I think the stories must come from large birds of prey in primordial times.”

“That’s my theory, too.” Childishly happy to discover that his mind was so open, she said, “Skinwalkers?”

“No. But, I knew a medicine man once who walked with a spirit guide. He understood the land and all its creatures better than anyone I’ve ever since met.” His tone held unvarnished respect. “Mortals die too quickly. The medicine man was wiser than many an immortal, but he was gone almost before I knew him.”

“You miss him,” Andromeda said softly.

“He was my friend.”

Her throat grew thick. “Will you tell me about him?”

“Yes, later.” A curl of his lip over his fangs. “My friend was a man who lived on the plains under an open sky. He does not belong in this forest tainted with reborn. What other creatures are on your list?”