Archangel's Heart
Page 81

Raphael nodded, aware the sheath had a cover she could zip up to protect her bolts from falling out during flight. It’d do as well to protect the map. “You need fuel first.”
“I’ll have a couple of energy bars.” She went to her travel case and opened an inner pocket to retrieve the bars. “I’d rather buy food from the marketplace. It’ll give us an excuse to talk to people, too. And then I don’t have to change to go to the Atrium.”
Catching the bar she threw over, Raphael bit into it.
* * *
It was as they were about to leave five minutes later that Elena said, “It would’ve been useful if I could’ve had a translation of what the woman in the marketplace told me.” It had clearly been important enough—and dangerous enough—that the woman hadn’t wanted Riad to hear it.
“I don’t suppose you have a local contact who can translate Moroccan Arabic,” she said jokingly. “And oh, someone who you trust to give us the correct translation.” It was the latter that was key, because the Luminata no doubt spoke the local language.
Raphael’s lips tugged up a little. “You will not like the answer, hbeebti.”
Surprised by his comment, she parted her lips to ask him to explain, then groaned. “Don’t say it.”
“I’m afraid I must—Tasha spent many years in Morocco once upon a time. She speaks the language flawlessly.”
Gritting her teeth, Elena said, “Can you contact her mind to mind, get a translation? And oh, damn, I’ll need to reschedule my walk with Caliane, too, since we won’t be back in time.”
“Of course I can contact Tasha. But I will not.”
“It’s fine.” Elena waved a hand. “I won’t do the jealous lover thing. She just annoys me because she’s so damn impressive.”
Raphael cupped her jaw. “She is not my warrior.”
Spreading her wings, Elena pressed her hand over his heart. “I really can handle it, Archangel.”
“I know. But I would not play with Tasha’s heart, either. Warning her about the painting was a courtesy that could not be misconstrued as anything more personal. This may cross a fine line.”
Elena remembered what Aodhan had said about Tasha watching Raphael with the eyes of a lover, nodded. If the other woman did still have feelings for Raphael, it wouldn’t be fair to give her hope that it might ever be reciprocated.
“But,” Raphael said, “we can go see my mother, speak to Tasha there.”
* * *
Raphael contacted Caliane as he and Elena left the suite. Mother, Elena needs to consult Tasha on something. We would like to meet you outside in an open space.
His mother’s response was immediate, the purity of her voice the song of his childhood. So you feel the eyes in this place, too, my son, she said. There is a garden that Tasha discovered, if you would meet us there.
Raphael got the instructions, told his mother they were on their way.
He and Elena ran into Gian not far from the garden. “Archangel, Guild Hunter.” A deep smile, not even the faintest incline of his handsome head. “May I offer any assistance? I know Lumia can be a maze.”
“My mother says there is a garden nearby,” he replied, noting Gian’s subtle insolence and disguised condescension while deliberately downplaying his ability to navigate Lumia. He had incredible power, but strategy and intelligence still counted in a battle.
Especially against a foe on home ground.
The other man’s smile appeared genuine, but Gian had been alive a long time, had headed a secretive sect for hundreds of years. A sect that was meant to change leaders every five decades. Nothing in Gian’s face could be trusted.
“Yes,” Gian said, smile holding, “it’s just down this way.” The Luminata began to lead them there, all helpfulness. “Did you enjoy your flight to the town?” he asked Elena.
“Pretty place.”
Gian nodded, expression serene. “Yes, I hear that is so.”
As if he’s never been there. Total BS if he was involved with Majda. Elena’s blade of a voice in his mind. He lies while breathing. I can’t believe I almost fell for it.
Touching his hand to her lower back, Raphael stroked gently. He has had a long time to perfect his public persona, hbeebti.
I wonder if he fooled my grandmother, too. No doubt in her now, that the woman in the miniature was her blood.
Having seen the similarity, Raphael had to agree with her conclusion.
Maybe, Elena continued, Majda ended up in Paris because she realized what he was too late. But who fathered my mom? Where’s the vampire in the family tree? It could be several generations back.
She was a hunter who’d caught the scent. And she was magnificent.
Even as his consort thought of the hunt, the hallway opened out into a courtyard that held a manicured garden, the hedges so neatly cut it was mathematical. It’s unlikely, Raphael said in response to her supposition about her vampiric ancestor. He’d have had to be under two hundred to have sired a child, but while he was clearly strong, I know of no vampire of that age who would have power enough for the kiss of his blood to last beyond a second generation.
“Many of the brothers find it calming to work in this garden,” Gian told them at the same time. “It’s a little too sedate for me”—a smile that was grace embodied—“but we all find different paths to luminescence.”
Spotting Caliane’s snow-white wings on the other side of the garden, Tasha’s copper ones beside her, Raphael said, “It seems my mother has beaten us here.”