Archangel's Sun (Guild Hunter #13)(76)

“I’ve dispatched scouts.” His second’s voice was grim, the pale green of his eyes on the carnage. “Did you notice how fresh these ones were?” When Tzadiq, his shoulders broad and his body as big as Titus’s, landed beside the pile, Titus followed suit. “Look at their bodies, the lack of rot.”

Tzadiq was right; beneath the greenish tinge that began at the moment of transition, these reborn boasted pink and brown and black hues of flesh ordinary among living people. Some of their wounds bled as much red as green-black.

He and his squadrons could keep killing wave after wave of reborn but if the creatures were multiplying this rapidly, he’d lose half the people in his territory before they were done. Yet what other way was there?

“How are we on overall troop numbers?”

“We haven’t taken any losses today, but our people are exhausted.” Tzadiq’s tone was brutally honest. “We’re going to start making more and more mistakes in the coming days.”

Titus had known that, but it was still hard to hear it laid out so clearly. As he considered all possible options on how to rest his troops, his eye fell on the crossbow bolt embedded in the eye of a reborn creature, the reborn’s head long separated from its body. On the shaft of the bolt was a symbol—a small gold G in a circle.

“How bad is the Guild’s situation?” The African complement of the Hunters Guild, those mortals born—or trained—to hunt rogue vampires, had sided with Titus and fought with his army. As a result, they’d also taken heavy losses.

“Not as bad as we first expected.” Dirt streaked Tzadiq’s pale skin and clean-shaven head, but it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been—at least he’d mostly escaped being covered with reborn fluids. “They’re at seventy percent capacity, and of those, twenty percent are badly wounded and still recovering.”

That meant that—aside from a small number running things at the top—fifty percent of the Guild was currently fighting the reborn on the ground while Titus’s angels fought from the air. It struck him that the hunters, all of whom were trained in tracking techniques and used to working alone, were a resource he could use far more wisely.

“Clean up here,” he told his second, for the majority of reborn had scuttled into their holes under the bright light of day. “I need to speak to Njal.”

“He’s at Guild HQ today,” Tzadiq said.

“One day, you’ll have to tell me how you know everything that happens in Narja.”

“Tentacles, sire.” Dry words, his expression without apparent humor. “I have tentacles in every nook and cranny and blood den.”

Titus slapped his second on the shoulder—Tzadiq was one of the few people who could not only take his full strength, but who could give it back in equal measure. There was a reason they’d been sparring partners for centuries. “Your archangel thanks you for your diligence.”

That was when Tzadiq’s face cracked a smile and so did Titus’s. Because before sire and second, they were friends and had been for over a millennium and a half. Titus had known Tzadiq before his second met Tanae, before the two had a son. Titus didn’t understand the relationship Tzadiq and Tanae had with each other, and with their warrior offspring, but as his second and his troop trainer, they were faultless in their dedication.

Leaving Tzadiq to his task, Titus made his way to Guild HQ, which was near the edge of Narja, and thus closer to him at this moment than his own citadel. Situated in an old stone fortress, it had a flat roof that allowed for an easy landing. The head of the Guild, the tight black curls of his hair buzzed close to his skull and his beard equally neat and precise, was there waiting to meet him, some scout having no doubt sighted his approach and guessed his destination.

“Archangel Titus.” He bowed, a tall and slender man dressed in worn brown fighting leathers with a sword strapped to one thigh and a heavy knife on the other—but despite the bow, there was no sense of obsequiousness to him.

The bow Njal used was one Titus might receive from one of his generals.

Some might say the mortal was being presumptuous in acting as if he had so high a status, but hunters chose strong people for their leaders, and Titus appreciated them for it. He could speak to Njal as a warrior and know his bluntness would be reciprocated.

“Is there a problem?” the other man asked after rising from his bow, the golden brown of his eyes piercing against the blue-black hue of his skin.

“No.” Titus laid out what he wished for the hunters to do. “Your hunters are an asset I wouldn’t lose. Tell me if this is a risk too great.”

“You don’t want them to attack the reborn, just to track and pinpoint nests so that angels can strike from the air to eliminate entire nests in one blow?”

Titus nodded. “Should they come across lone reborn, they can feel free to eliminate the reborn—as long as such contact doesn’t present a danger to their own lives. At present, I’m less in need of ground fighters, and more in need of information.” Not many archangels would speak to a Guild Hunter with such openness, but Njal had fought beside Titus on the battlefield, resolute and tireless.

Titus knew that despite his attempts to stay distant from mortal friendships, Njal was a man he’d miss when the hunter passed from this world. “I need to use my resources more strategically.” Else, the reborn would keep feeding on the people of his land, decimating it.