Archangel's Resurrection (Guild Hunter #15)(6)

The sole person who didn’t forget what he’d seen that day was Ojewo himself.

As he walked the ice-crusted pathways of the jagged mountains beyond the Refuge, he thought of the visions that had erupted into his mind with such brutal force that they couldn’t be contained: the glory of an archangel of molten power, the choice he would one day have to make against the blood of his blood, the murmur of a fog of black hovering on a horizon so far in the future that even Ojewo’s mind couldn’t reach it . . . and the awareness that Alexander would experience both great happiness and great sorrow in his time.

His life would be one writ large and it would leave a permanent mark on the world.

“I wish you well, little one,” he whispered to the ice and the snow, his breath puffs of white in the air. “And I hope that I am awake to witness your ascension.”

Ojewo had long ago understood that to give a child a fortune was to weigh them down until they drowned, so he never spoke of what he saw.

That didn’t mean he saw nothing. Far from it.

There remained, of course, faint forks in the road, including futures where the child didn’t ascend, but Ojewo didn’t believe these to be real possibilities.

The visions had been too visceral, too full of color.

Ojewo’s heart ached for the pain and loss to come in Alexander’s life, and he hoped that beyond the horror and agony lay joy. But Ojewo couldn’t glimpse it, unable to see beyond the noxious black fog. Perhaps that was the limit of his sight . . . or perhaps it augured a thing so terrible that it engulfed the entire world.





5


Alexander loved to visit his big brother. Unlike many of his friends who had siblings older than them—though no one in school had a brother who was so much older—Osiris didn’t ignore Alexander except for a present on his birthing day.

Mama said that Osiris had come to visit Alexander when Alexander was a fledgling with wings that didn’t even open, and he’d been there for Alexander ever since. Mama and Papa had taught Alexander a lot, but it was Osiris who’d actually shown him things. His brother had allowed him to mix powders and liquids in the laboratory to see how they reacted, taken him to watch animals so Alexander could learn their behavior, and even taught him to swim!

Alexander was sure that his brother was the smartest person in the whole world.

Today, Osiris gave him a thinking look as Alexander ran back across the black sands of the faraway island of sunshine and water where Osiris lived. The sand burned so he ran as fast as he could, yelping and laughing at the same time.

“Such a wild thing you are,” Osiris murmured, a tilt to his lips and the silver of his eyes bright in the sun. They shared those eyes and even the gold of their hair, but Alexander’s was straight like their father’s and Osiris had curls like their mother’s.

Alexander loved that they were so clearly brothers. The only obvious difference was that Osiris’s skin was more sun-browned than Alexander’s. The sun burned so hot here that Alexander’s brother mostly wore a tunic that came to the middle of his thighs, sandals, and nothing else.

Alexander didn’t bother with clothes at all. He knew he’d have to one day, but right now everyone still treated him like a baby, so it was allowed. Grinning at what his brother had said, he pretended to growl and be a tiger like the one they’d watched in Refuge territory once.

Osiris chuckled and rubbed his hand over Alexander’s head—just as a vampire with big brown eyes and long dark hair, a frangipani bloom tucked behind one ear, came out from the trees. Her tunic was woven from strips of brown and black and had tassels that hung at her thighs.

“My lord,” she murmured, her gaze lowered. “It’s almost time to eat.”

Alexander knew Livaliana was Osiris’s favorite concubine. Osiris had explained concubines to him, so Alexander knew they were special friends his brother loved, and Livaliana was the most favorite. Alexander liked her too—she was kind and gentle like his mother, and she sang him beautiful songs at bedtime.

“Come, wild child.” Osiris held out a hand. “Our lady beckons us.”

As Alexander walked between them, one hand gripping his brother’s and the other holding on to Livaliana’s, Osiris said, “What do you think of sampling warrior training, little brother?”

Alexander stopped, stared up at Osiris, his heart thumping so loudly that he couldn’t even hear the ocean waves anymore. “Really?”

“Yes.” A look so serious that Alexander could feel it inside him. “I do believe our shy and noncombative parents may have created a warrior child—my own senior guards have come to me to say that they see such an energy in you, the same energy that lives in them. So I had the thought that we should offer you both the scholar’s path and the warrior’s, and allow you to make up your own mind.”

Alexander couldn’t speak, didn’t have the words; he just flung himself at Osiris’s legs and held on tight. Chuckling, his brother ruffled his hair again. “I should’ve known. You flew high and straight before most of your brethren could even get in the air. I have a feeling, young sib, that you’re not meant for the family’s favored way of life.”

Alexander’s happiness was so big he felt like his skin would burst and it stayed that way until his return to the Refuge, to wearing clothes again, and to the start of his training.