Archangel's Resurrection (Guild Hunter #15)(75)

Raphael’s lips curved a touch. “She says that when you last woke, you looked at her like a new and interesting bug.”

Zanaya was not often rendered speechless, but her jaw dropped at that statement. Then she laughed, delighted with both this archangel who’d dared say that to her face—and with his consort. “Alas, I must plead guilty to that. She is the first being of her kind I’ve seen in all my existence.”

Mortals had never registered on her consciousness as anything but fleeting sparks in the darkness. She’d appreciated the art they created, the work they did to maintain the world, but she had trouble bonding with them—she couldn’t get past the fact that they’d be gone just as she was settling into a friendship.

“I’ll attempt not to examine her with such rude intensity the next time we meet,” she promised, ignoring the increased stretching at the back of her mind. It was disturbing but not uncomfortable. “Your territory has recovered from the war?”

“In most senses,” Raphael said. “One strip of Manhattan remains scorched and dark, with no sign of new life.” A grimness to his jawline. “Suyin is right—her aunt was a power. She left her mark on the world in more ways than one.” Those eyes so intense in shade as to be impossible pinned Zanaya to the spot. “You shouldn’t be awake and whole, Lady Zanaya. We all know that.”

So, it appeared Caliane’s handsome son was far more forthright than his diplomatic mother. “Do you believe me one of her reborn?” The idea of being one of those monstrous things that shouldn’t exist made her stomach churn.

“No. A reborn couldn’t hold this conversation with me. But, given the nature of your injury, you’ve healed too fast. We must know the answer as to why.”

Never one to shy away from harsh reality, Zanaya said, “Your immunity to her ability. Did you retain anything of it in the aftermath?” Cascade gifts were oft violent, but what they left behind tended to be a gentler kiss of power.

He looked at her with unflinching intensity, his hair blue-black in the sunshine. “Why do you ask?”

Well aware he had no reason to trust her with what abilities he did or did not have, she held out her hand. “Touch me if you will, Raphael. I would like to know if you sense her in me.”

A pause as if she’d startled him, but then he gave a curt nod and closed his hand over hers. They both flinched at the discomfort of their archangel-to-archangel contact. She released a breath through clenched teeth. “It’s never been this painful.”

In most cases, it was a niggling unease that, if left to grow, could turn into violence and anger, pitch predator against predator. Wars had been started by archangels driven to violence by this most primal urge, an urge so vicious and brutal that it took teeth-gritted will paired with millennia of experience to fight it.

With her and Alexander, however, the effect had been dull from the start, and it’d worn down even further over time. They only really got into trouble if they spent too much time together—more than a month of constant contact would do it, but it had to be constant. Spending every night in each other’s arms and being in close proximity throughout the day. Given their duties as archangels, that was a scenario that rarely came into play.

When it did hit, it took as long—or longer—a period apart for the effect to wear off. Which was why they’d learned to ride the edge, go so far and never too far. Far better to take a week apart every two weeks than be forced to keep their distance for a month or longer.

The repulsion effect was worse with others in the Cadre, but never akin to this sharp blade of actual pain.

“No.” Raphael frowned. “Usually—and especially at the start—it’s a minor irritation at most.” Despite that, he didn’t release her hand for a full minute. “I taste nothing of Lijuan’s evil,” he said as they separated at last, Raphael shaking out his hand and Zanaya rubbing hers on her thigh. “But . . . the force of the repulsion between us may be an answer in itself. I react this way to no one else in the Cadre.”





38


The young archangel’s words whispered in her mind long after he’d moved on to discuss a more local matter with his neighbor, Elijah. Truth be told, Raphael had only vocalized what Zanaya already believed: something was wrong with her. And that something had to do with Lijuan.

Looking up at the sound of Alexander’s laugh, she saw him once more in conversation with Titus. Her golden warrior of a lover so handsome and honorable with his openhearted young friend. They’d fallen back into the best times of their relationship after her waking . . . but now fear nipped at her.

What did she carry inside her?

Was she infectious?

Could she hurt Alexander?

Her throat dry, she swallowed. And the stretching in her mind grew stronger, more powerful . . . and aimed itself in a certain direction.

Alone in this corner of the garden shadowed by the spreading branches of a tree familiar to her from her reign as Queen of the Nile, she shifted on her heel until the stretching settled. As if she’d pointed an internal compass to true north. It took her a moment to orient herself, to realize the direction in which she was gazing.

She’d half expected it to be China. That would’ve made sense.

This, however . . .

A hand on her lower back, a familiar wing sliding over her own.