Archangel's Legion (Guild Hunter #6)(49)

Her first victims?

Maybe her test subjects. Probably junkie vamps desperate for a honey feed—wouldn’t take much to seduce one if she looked strung out herself. Perfect meal.

Again, Raphael went ahead and, though they tried to be quiet, the stairs were old, creaked and groaned no matter what. However, there was no sign their target had heard anything, even when Elena almost fell through a weakened board and Raphael jerked her to safety. There was, in fact, no sign of life at all.

You’re certain she is here?

Yes. Her scent is rich and fresh. She met his eyes. I can’t tell if she’s dead or just sick, but the scent of the disease is very strong to my senses, especially considering her mortality.

Raphael stepped forward to look inside the doorway she indicated, while she swept quickly down to check the other room, make sure it was empty. His expression when she turned to face him told her all she needed to know.

“Damn it.” Walking into the room, she halted beside an old bed that looked like it had been forgotten when the house was stripped. In it lay their prey, her eyes wide open and unseeing, the exposed parts of her pasty skin bubbled with small sores that echoed the more virulent ones on the bodies of the other victims.

“A carrier who can only last a short time,” Raphael said, taking in the scene with a clinical eye. “Inefficient.”

“If we’re right and this is an attack against the city by one of the Cadre—”

“—then it could be he or she does not have the strength to immunize the carriers.” Raphael nodded. “All the Cascade-born abilities appear to be limited in terms of strength as yet.”

Elena eyeballed the body, but could find no signs that the woman had been a junkie who might herself have been somehow infected, perhaps by another individual who was the actual carrier. They’d have to wait till the autopsy to get a definitive answer. Certain that Raphael had already contacted Keir, she took a good look around the room.

“Nothing.” She restrained the urge to kick at a mildewed wall, the mildew an improvement on the giant floral wallpaper. “There is absolutely nothing here that tells us who she was or where she came from.”

“Unsurprising. Her archangel would not want her to give herself away.”

Elena had to agree with Raphael’s unspoken conclusion that the woman must’ve volunteered for her task, because, while she looked pitiful now, a broken doll, she’d carried and disseminated death, pumping poison from her body each time she sold her blood. The dead vampires Elena had sensed downstairs made it inarguable the woman had known exactly what it was she was selling.

? ? ?


Midday, and Keir confirmed the disease in the girl’s body was identical to that found in the other victims. “But she had it far longer,” the healer said, old eyes tired in that beautiful face that could’ve been of a boy on the brink of manhood. “At least two weeks—which makes her either the first victim or the carrier.”

Elena kept her ear to the ground for any other reports of vampires dead of mysterious circumstances. Nothing. Not for the four days that followed their discovery of the girl it was becoming more and more certain had been the sole carrier. Finally, on the fifth day, they cleared Blood-for-Less for renewed use of donor blood, with continuing spot checks just to be certain.

“Is there any way we can wriggle out of this ball?” she said to Raphael on the eve of their journey to Amanat, the two of them in bed after an unexpectedly playful loving that had flowed on from a sparring session where they’d worked out the tension that had had them in its clawlike grip for days, as they waited for the other shoe to drop . . . only for the ordinary rhythm of life to descend upon the city.

It wasn’t peace—it was New York—but it certainly wasn’t a war. “I know you don’t want to leave the city.” Neither did she, an itch on the back of her neck that said, this odd lull aside, the Falling and the disease had only been the beginning.

“To not attend,” Raphael said, his wing warm and strong under her body, his voice exquisitely familiar in the moonless dark, “would be seen as a sign of distrust in Illium, Aodhan, and the squadrons that guard the Tower.”

Comforted by the steady beat of his heart, she drew lazy designs on the muscled heat of his chest. “Will that matter if the city is attacked by frothing-at-the-mouth reborn while we’re eating bonbons in Amanat?”

“You have such a vivid way of putting things, hbeebti.” His fingers stroking the sensitive inner edges of her wings, the act an absent one that made her deeply happy in a way she didn’t consciously understand. “But no hordes will descend upon the city during the span of the ball.”

Stretching out her wings in a silent request, she sighed as he stroked outward. “You sound confident.”

“The one behind these attacks is no doubt Cadre. No other angel could’ve gained such abilities even in the Cascade.”

Elena nodded, having seen Jessamy’s research on the results of the last Cascade. Any information was fragmented at best, but the historian had been able to tentatively confirm Caliane’s recollection that it was only the archangels who’d been fundamentally altered. “I get your point,” she said. “Whoever it is, is caught in the same trap.”

Raphael moved her hair aside to massage her nape, his other hand folded behind his head. “He or she must attend the ball or it’ll not only be an insult to the sole Ancient awake in the world, but a sign the archangel in question does not trust those he would’ve otherwise left in charge. Then there is the other factor.”