Archangel's Light (Guild Hunter #14)(73)

Today, Illium’s eyes glittered, but he nodded, trusting Raphael to do what he would’ve done had he had the chance. He need not have worried. Raphael’s anger was of an archangel’s—nothing could match it.

Keir, he said, touching the mind of the senior healer. I interrupt only to say that every resource I have is at your disposal. If you need something me or mine can’t provide, tell me and I will obtain it.

I know, Raphael. But while we’ll do all we can, this battle will, in the end, be fought by Aodhan. A pause before he said, We must amputate what remains of his wings. They are rotting into his back and will only harm him at this point. Do you give permission as his sire?

Raphael didn’t point out that Aodhan’s parents were alive and awake. Aodhan had handed Raphael the power to make such decisions when he signed onto his team. Yes, you have my consent.

Better to do it now, while Aodhan was so weak he was unlikely to notice. By the time he recovered enough to do so, his wings would be in the process of growing back. Can you tell me anything of what was done to him?

I need more time to examine him, but I can tell you that his wings were clipped. An icy calm to Keir’s mental voice. The damage to the section that should hold his primary feathers isn’t a result of rot. I can see the wounds where his tendons and bones were severed—there are scars that say it was done over and over again.

Raphael could feel the glow coming off his wings begin to intensify, forced himself to get it under control. The instant you know more, tell me. I don’t care if you discover it while it is the darkest hour of night.

I will do so. Now go, leave me to my work.

Before he exited the Medica, Raphael made sure to tell Illium what was about to happen to Aodhan’s brutalized wings. Don’t try to stop the healers. This is necessary for Aodhan’s healing—and you know Keir will do Aodhan no harm.

The young angel’s response was calm. If he wakes and panics, I’ll remind him that I all but lost mine when I was far younger than he is today, and my wings are now so glorious others are jealous. His attempt at humor was shaky at best, but that he was trying was a good sign.

Illium would hold for Aodhan. As long as Aodhan needed, Illium would hold.

Raphael left not for his stronghold, but for the home of the enemy. Dmitri was waiting for him outside, on the wide stone path that led to the main doors. Others who belonged to Raphael guarded the entrances to the property.

“It’s done. Elijah’s people have disowned both of them,” his second said. “She”—Dmitri turned and spat hard onto the path—“is in an upstairs room with Galen standing guard. He didn’t want to risk that she’d take the coward’s path out. He threw that pathetic piece of shit Bathar in with her.”

Suicide was difficult for angels who weren’t incredibly young, but it could be done. “Good.” He put a hand on his best friend’s shoulder, squeezed. “Will you take the task of informing Aodhan’s parents?”

Raphael would normally pay them that respect, but Menerva and Rukiel were frightened of him. Not so odd if you considered that many people were frightened of archangels, but he found it strange when their son had never been scared in his company.

“Yes.” Dmitri’s hand fisted at his side, his jaw working.

“He is strong, Dmitri. He will return and he will be as powerful as always. Remember that.”

Neither one of them brought up the little boy who hadn’t survived abduction and torture, the little boy whose sobs and cries for his papa haunted Dmitri, but the ghost of little Misha stood between them—as he lived in the nightmares that haunted Dmitri hundreds of years after Misha had turned to dust.

Misha. Caterina. Ingrede.

Aodhan would not be another name to add to that litany of loss and grief.

Dmitri’s hand flexed, then curled inward again. “What will you do to her?” His eyes glowed with a red tinge—it was the first time in centuries that Raphael had seen his friend and second so close to bloodlust. Dmitri’s control over his vampiric urges was legendary.

“What she deserves.”

Dmitri didn’t question him further; he understood Raphael better than any other person walking this earth, and so he knew that the vengeance Raphael took would be appropriate to the crime.

Waiting only until his second had left to inform Aodhan’s parents, Raphael considered Lady Sharine. Jessamy, he said, reaching out to the kind angel of whom Illium’s mother was fond. Have you seen Lady Sharine today?

I’m with her now. Dmitri told me something was happening, that I should shield her from any news until you came to her.

Of course Dmitri had done that; that was why he was Raphael’s second. Because a second had to think for himself, do things without being ordered to do so. And because a second had to understand his archangel’s heart.

She’s quiet today, Jessamy continued. She’s painting while I sit with her and read.

Raphael considered which action to take first, decided on vengeance. Only once that was in play would he be calm enough to talk to Lady Sharine. To her, he would give a full accounting, nothing left undone. Can you stay with her awhile longer?

I’ll stay as long as needed, Jessamy said, her mental voice as gentle as her physical one. Rafa, is Aodhan home? It was a measure of her emotional state that she’d called him Rafa. These days, though she was the beloved of one of his Seven, she tried her best to remember his status as an archangel—rather than as her former troublemaker of a student.