Archangel's Light (Guild Hunter #14)(72)

A grunt of acknowledgment from Galen.

Nothing from Dmitri, but Raphael didn’t need it. His closest friend had too close an understanding of the need for vengeance—and for justice. He would do nothing to diminish the harshness of the punishment Raphael intended to mete out.

What Dmitri did say was, I’m near the Medica. I’ll see Aodhan first before I join Galen. He doesn’t need me for anything but dealing with Elijah’s people. Our Barbarian is not the best at politics.

Raphael didn’t deny him. Like him, Dmitri had watched Aodhan grow from when he was a babe. He’d once walked hand in hand with Aodhan when Aodhan got it into his head to visit an angelic monument on the far edge of the Refuge. Naasir’s “small sparkles” was beloved of them all.

Raphael looked down to make sure that the cushion of power he’d wrapped around Aodhan’s blanket-enveloped body was still holding. He lay in Raphael’s arms, unconscious and without any real weight to him. He’d reacted only once—when he’d tried to speak to Illium. Then his eyes had closed, and he’d slumped into this state.

Raphael had known he’d likely gone to a place beyond pain; he’d wrapped the cushion of power around him nonetheless. Never would he risk being the cause of even a minute trace of pain for this angel who was the gentlest member of his court, the one who saved small insects caught in pools of water and made sure the wild birds were fed.

Illium had tried to pace Raphael, inevitably fallen behind. He was fast but didn’t have the endurance to keep up with Raphael over a long flight. Go, sire! Illium’s mental voice had been fierce. I’ll follow! He was doing so alone, Jason and Naasir having stayed behind at Sachieri’s stronghold to secure the prisoners.

So when Raphael landed on the wide landing area outside the Medica, he was alone but for the wounded angel in his arms. Keir and several other healers were waiting for him, and he saw the horror on all their faces as they laid eyes on Aodhan. But it lasted the barest moment before they snapped into action.

Dmitri stood off to the edge, out of their way—but plenty close enough to see Aodhan. Hurt them, he said to Raphael in a short, clipped voice, the skin of his face bloodless, it was pulled so tight over his bones. Break them.

Oh, I intend to. He strode inside on Keir’s orders as Dmitri shifted on his heel to go join Galen. Once inside, he forced himself to relinquish Aodhan by laying him down on a large bed designed for angelic beings. But Aodhan had no wings to speak of, looked lost in the whiteness of the mattress.

When Keir and another healer unwrapped him from the blanket with careful hands, Raphael was hit once more with how little of Aodhan remained. “You must heal him,” he ordered Keir, his voice a thing of grit and stone.

Keir had known Raphael all of Raphael’s life, and had little fear of archangels in general. “This is our place now, Raphael. Go. We’ll work better without your wings blazing fear into my staff.”

It was only then that Raphael realized his wings were glowing.

Hands fisted, he glanced around and saw faces bleached of color. Keir might not be afeared of him, but the same couldn’t be said of the others. He had to go, but he wouldn’t leave Aodhan alone without one of his people. “I’ll wait outside this room until Illium arrives. He is not to be separated from Aodhan, understood?”

Keir nodded. “I was planning to ask you to send Illium here, regardless. The child will need his heart’s mirror to pull him back to us.” He brushed tender fingers over the broken straw of Aodhan’s hair. It still glittered bright under the light, but it was faded, brittle.

Retreating to the doorway, Raphael stayed out of sight while positioning himself so he could see inside the room. When a sweaty and breathless Illium ran into the Medica some time later, he grabbed the young angel and crushed him close until Illium’s wings stopped fluttering and his breathing evened out, his heartbeat no longer a drum against Raphael.

“Aodhan doesn’t need your anger or your panic,” he murmured in Illium’s ear. “He needs your friendship.” That term wasn’t enough to describe the tie between the two, Keir’s use of heart’s mirror far more fitting. “Be as you’ve always been with him. Do not treat him as broken. Be his friend, the one he’s always known.”

Illium’s arms clenched around him as he nodded with jagged movements. “I understand.”

Pulling back, Raphael met eyes of aged gold, saw more calm in them than he’d expected. But then, Illium was Lady Sharine’s son. He held far more maturity and kindness within than was apparent to those who saw only the surface flash. “Good. Don’t get in the way of the healers or I’ll pull you out.”

“I won’t do anything to harm Aodhan.” Illium looked over Raphael’s shoulder into the room where Aodhan lay, then back at Raphael. “I want to torture and kill her.”

“No, Illium.” Raphael gripped the side of the young angel’s face. “Your job is here. It is the duty and the pleasure of your archangel to take vengeance.” He pushed Illium toward the room. “Go. And know this—she will suffer.”

Another angel might’ve argued with Raphael, but Illium and Raphael had a bond different from the one Raphael had with any other of his people. Where Raphael saw Aodhan as a warrior first and foremost, it wasn’t the same with Illium. For him, Illium would forever be the little boy he’d cradled in his arms after Aegaeon’s cruel departure, the child to whom he’d given his first sword, the youth who’d run to him in breathless excitement after he gained a place in a junior squadron.