Archangel's Legion (Guild Hunter #6)(33)

She was leaning in to kiss him again when his eyes snapped open, languid relaxation erased by cold-eyed focus in a single heartbeat. “Keir is on his way to see us.”

Elena thought of the decomposing vampire found in that house now burned to the ground, the wounded angels in the infirmary, the five carried to the Refuge on flower-covered biers, and knew the news could be nothing good.





12





Looking out toward the glittering mirage of Manhattan from their balcony a couple of minutes later, she saw the dark shadow of wings over the Hudson. “Is Illium providing escort?” Even with the wild blue and shimmering silver lost to the night, the angel had a distinctive style of flight.

“I’ve ordered that no one fly alone at night—or should they be heading into an isolated area.” A hard glance. “That applies to my consort, too. You left the Tower tonight before I could speak to you about it.”

“No arguments here.” Tugging at the belt of her robe, she said, “I should put on proper clothes.”

“This’ll do.” Raphael, dressed in jeans and a white T-shirt, ran his knuckles down the side of her face. “Keir is one of the few men whom I will allow to see my consort naked of her armor.”

Because, Elena thought, the healer had seen every part of her broken body—and he’d helped bring her back.

“As for your Bluebell, his heart is already yours.”

Her fingers clenched on the belt. “Raphael, he’s not truly . . . not that way, is he?” She couldn’t bear to hurt Illium.

“I think,” Raphael said, as the night wind brought with it the whispering promise of snow, “Illium needs to heal and you are safe.”

Elena rubbed her face. “I hope that’s all it is.” Regardless, she did change into jeans and a simple green-and-white-checked shirt, Raphael doing up the buttons on the wing slits for her before they walked down to open the library doors and step out onto the lawn.

The two angels made a quiet landing a minute later.

Keir’s face was solemn, his face showing a strain Elena had never before seen on him, certainly not when she’d left the infirmary earlier that night. Gut twisting, she took his arm and led him inside to find the fire lit and the table by the windows set with coffee and tea, as well as a tray of fruit, nuts, and a rich, creamy cheese. Crackers lay neatly on a different platter, alongside a thin flatbread flavored with herbs.

Thank God for Montgomery.

Nudging Keir into an armchair in front of the crackling flames, she poured the healer the tea she knew he liked, as Illium fixed him a plate. “You have to eat,” she said, when he would’ve waved off the food.

Expression drained, eyes devoid of their natural warmth, he didn’t respond.

Elena wasn’t ready to admit defeat. Taking the plate from Illium after setting the tea on the little side table beside the healer, she nodded at the blue-winged angel to go speak to Raphael, while she took a seat in the armchair opposite Keir. Putting a piece of cheese on a cracker, she held it out. “Please, Keir.”

Gaze flicking to her, he took the morsel. “So, the patient looks after the healer.”

“The patient knows that if she gets herself damaged again, she’s going to need you, so it’s self-serving.”

A glimmer of light in his expression. “And if I don’t eat?”

“This healer once told me I had the unbreakable will of a mule.” It had been a compliment, Keir’s delight at her progress unhidden.

His beautiful lips curved slightly at last and he ate the cracker, took the next one. She managed to get that and some flatbread into him, as well as a peach she sliced into pieces. “You did this for me once, remember? When I was bored and grumpy after you told me I had to stay in bed.” It had been in the aftermath of Lijuan’s ball. “Stupid balls. They should be banned.”

Soft laughter, the peach eaten quarter by quarter while Illium and Raphael stood at Raphael’s desk, talking quietly about the ongoing holes in their defensive line. The firelight glinted off the white-gold of Raphael’s feathers, and since he was right next to Illium, the filaments of silver in Bluebell’s wings also catching the light, the difference in effect was crystalline.

“White fire.” Keir’s intrigued expression told her he was back. “Extraordinary.”

It was, Elena thought in wonder, a resonance to the shifting fire that gave Raphael’s wings a sense of movement though he stood in place.

Settling back in his chair, Keir said, “I haven’t seen such an effect in the others who are Cadre.”

Elena forced herself to look away from Raphael, her antennae on alert. “Do you know anything of what’s happening with Michaela’s abilities?”

Keir shook his head. “She doesn’t trust me, though she knows I would never break my vows as healer. It is also true that I have always favored Raphael.” Putting down his tea, he looked at her with his old, wise eyes. “As I favor the consort who has brought him back from the cruel edge of immortality.”

Elena set aside the plate on which she’d cut the peach, and leaned forward after a quick glance to ensure Raphael remained absorbed in his conversation with Illium. “Lijuan warned Raphael I’d make him a little bit mortal.”

“You have.” Quiet equanimity. “And you worry you’ve weakened him. You have.”