Archangel's Light (Guild Hunter #14)(69)

“I can’t help find Aodhan if I’m in the infirmary,” he’d said, his face grimmer than Raphael had ever seen it. “Whatever it takes, I’ll do.”

But even Illium, with his fierce faith in Naasir’s strategic thinking abilities, had hesitated when Naasir first suggested his idea. It was Dmitri who’d put it all into stark perspective. “We have no other option,” he’d said. “We have to try this—if it fails, we restart the open search. Nothing is lost in attempting to mislead our quarry.”

What was left unsaid was that they’d failed in their open search. Not only Raphael and his people, but the people of friendly archangels and senior angels. Even Neha, busy with problems in her own territory, had assigned squadrons to search India. Uram, too, had come through, as had Elijah and Titus, and they weren’t the only ones.

The cooperation wasn’t only because of their friendship or respect for Raphael, but because of the gift of Aodhan. It had become clear in the last century that Aodhan was the Hummingbird’s artistic heir. Their styles and pieces were unique to each, but the glory of their work . . . One day, Aodhan would be as revered as Lady Sharine, but for now, he was a bright, bright light no one wanted to see extinguished.

All of angelkind knew that to hide a single angel wasn’t a difficult task, especially had the hiding place been prepared in advance. What Raphael refused to believe was that Aodhan was gone forever. He’d shut his ears to those who whispered that talented, loyal, quietly powerful Aodhan had been stripped of his wings by an angel who coveted his beauty, then murdered.

He wouldn’t believe Aodhan lost forever until he saw concrete evidence. Given how obsessed certain angels and vampires were with Aodhan’s unique appearance, captivity also made far more sense. There were many stunning immortals and near-immortals in the world, but there was no one like Aodhan.

“I don’t want the attention,” he’d said to Raphael as a youth on the verge of manhood, a flush on his cheekbones and confusion in his unusual eyes. “Why do they keep insisting?”

“Is it any particular person?” Raphael had asked.

“A few.” Aodhan had given him the names, and those names had spanned the gender and age spectrum, Aodhan’s astonishing beauty a drug to many. “I don’t want to get them in trouble . . . but they make me uncomfortable.”

“I’ll deal with it.” He’d gripped Aodhan’s shoulder when the youth went to open his mouth. “What they are doing is unacceptable, Aodhan. You’ve made it clear that you aren’t interested. They have no right to keep pushing—so now they will get a personal visit from your archangel.”

Raphael would’ve done the same for any young person in his court. He did not intend to keep a court like Charisemnon’s, where sexuality was encouraged to the point that it enveloped every part of court life—and ensnared those far too young.

“What about the others?” Aodhan had asked, his voice hesitant. “The ones who don’t push into my space, but who stare? How do I handle that? When I was a kid, Illium told me to ignore the stupids and it worked . . . but now . . . The attention makes me feel soiled.” He’d swallowed. “I know they’re not touching me, but it feels like it.”

Raphael had considered his response with care. “It’s not of your doing. Know this first of all. Those are the actions others choose to take.” He’d wanted to make it clear that no blame lay on Aodhan for any of this.

“You can call it out when you’re comfortable—some will then back off. Others won’t and justify it to themselves and to you by terming it admiration.” It was an unfortunate truth that such was the way of those who thought only of their own needs, immortal or mortal.

“But,” he’d continued, “there are many who will be embarrassed and aghast to realize they are causing you discomfort.” A lot of people were so struck by Aodhan that they forgot themselves; this didn’t excuse their actions but at least they could be taught to be better. “And, Aodhan—there will come a time when you are so strong that no one will dare look at you with such open greed.”

A quick, shy smile from the youth that had Raphael ruffling his hair as he so often did with Illium. “Whatever happens,” he’d added, “always remember what I said first—these are the actions of others. They do not in any way define you.”

Aodhan had taken a deep breath, exhaled. “At times, I wonder what it would be like to be normal.”

“Naasir says normal is overrated,” Raphael had answered. “He says it’s far better to be a one-being and keep everyone guessing.”

Aodhan’s smile had turned dazzling, his entire being alight. “I will aim to be more like Naasir, sire.”

That delighted smile was what burned in Raphael’s mind as he flew high above the clouds, while Naasir ran far below, a hunter invisible. Illium flew slightly behind Raphael, Jason with him, while Dmitri held the fort for Raphael, and Galen kept an eye on the Refuge base of their enemy.

Because that angel was now Raphael’s enemy. Sachieri had dared take Aodhan, dared take one of Raphael’s people. She would pay the price. At present, she and her equally guilty lover, Bathar, were in her Refuge home, but even had she been at the stronghold where she’d most likely imprisoned Aodhan, it wouldn’t have mattered.