Archangel's Legion (Guild Hunter #6)(57)

In fact, Elena added, turning right to follow an otherwise deserted pathway when Naasir indicated the Ancient waited in that direction, she’d probably be delighted if Naasir indulged his carnivorous instincts.

My mother is an archangel of old. Whatever her opinions of our relationship, she would never air the family’s dirty laundry in public.

Have I told you how much I hate all these stupid polite rules? Scowling, she reached the end of the path . . . and the breath rushed out of her: In front of her was a small pond fed by a waterfall so elegant its sound was delicate music. Flowers grew riotously around the water, the area a carpet of bluebells that reminded her of Illium.

Only a single stone bench disturbed the blue-green of the natural carpet, and on it sat an archangel of breathtaking beauty, her hair as black as night and her wings a sweep of pure white. The crushed sapphires of her eyes seemed full of an aching sadness when she turned to see who disturbed her peace, but the dazzling joy that lit up her face at seeing Raphael soon eclipsed what had gone before.

“My son.” Rising, she walked to him through the bluebells, her wings trailing along the grass . . . and though she stepped on the flowers, they sprang back unscathed. It was a potent display of power, all the more so because Elena was certain Caliane was unaware of it, all her attention on Raphael.

When he bent to kiss her cheek, Elena saw Caliane’s eyes sheen wet. “Come.” She took his arm. “Let me show you how my city has grown since last we met.”

“Mother.” Quiet steel. “You do not greet my consort.”

“Guild Hunter.”

Elena felt the urge to check the air for frost, the greeting was so icy. I thought you said she was never rude, she muttered on the mental plane, even as she made a graceful bow courtesy of Illium’s tutoring skills.

It appears you are a special case.

Stifling a laugh at the cool response, Elena fell into step beside Naasir as Caliane drew Raphael ahead. She’d have to tell Sara about this—her best friend found her “mother-in-law problems” beyond hysterical. As a woman who’d never imagined she’d trust any male enough to tie her life to his, much less meet and deal with his mother, Elena found it cathartic to share the weirdness of this part of her life with Sara.

“Consort,” Naasir said, in that smooth voice she had the sense could become a lethal growl without warning, “there’s something the Sire has asked me to show you.”

She couldn’t read him. At all. It truly was like talking to a big, predatory beast that hadn’t yet decided whether to eat her. Palm itching, she gave in and drew a knife, playing it desultorily through her fingers like a damn security blanket. “What is it?”

“This way.” He waved to a narrower pathway to the left.

Raphael, I’m going off to parts unknown with this vampire who isn’t a vampire.

He has promised not to bite without warning.

Imagining the fiendish revenge she was going to take on Raphael for teasing her so mercilessly, she followed the silver-eyed male who continued to make her senses itch and her primal hindbrain crouch in readiness for flight. “Can I ask a question?”

No response, no reaction.

Deciding that didn’t mean no, she plowed on ahead. “Who Made you?” Venom, with his reptilian speed and the eyes of a viper, had been Made by the Queen of Snakes and Poisons; it could be that Naasir, too, carried the mark of the one who’d Made him . . . if he had been Made and wasn’t a wholly unknown creature.

“A long-dead angel who thought to own me,” was his enigmatic answer, the silver in his eyes almost liquid. “I tore out his throat. After that, I ate his liver and his heart. The remaining internal organs weren’t as tasty so I gave them to his other creatures.”

Elena’s hand tightened on the handle of the knife, conscious Naasir carried gleaming blades of his own in the sheaths strapped to his arms. “I wouldn’t think a vampire who killed an angel would be permitted to live.”

A slow, feral smile. “I didn’t say I killed him.”

Every single hair in her body stood up, the same instinct that had probably saved her ancestors from saber-toothed tigers telling her to run the f*ck away! Fast!

Except they’d reached an old temple that hadn’t yet been repaired, parts of it tumbled and covered with creeping vines sprinkled with tiny star-shaped flowers of blue and white. The eerie vampire-maybe-not-vampire led her up the steps. His next words were pragmatic and so civilized, she could barely believe it was the same man who’d spoken about eating an angel’s liver and heart.

“I made this discovery several hours ago,” he said. “As it’s on the edge of the city, easy to police, I decided to wait to act until the Sire’s arrival.”

An angel whispered out of the shadows on the heels of his words, her wings white with a kiss of delicate green at the primaries, from what Elena could see, and her clothing similar to Elena’s own—except this woman’s pants were of some kind of strong brown fabric instead of leather, and her white top a flowing thing rather than the more fitted styles Elena preferred. She wasn’t yet expert enough at fighting with wings to risk tangling herself or her weapons up in froufrou clothes.

“Consort,” the other woman said. “I am Isabel.”

Naasir’s partner, Elena realized, situated here to give the vampire winged backup. “Elena,” she said and held out her hand, the other woman having been away from Amanat during Elena’s previous visits.