Archangel's Storm
Page 39

His defenses ignited. “Mahiya, don’t see more in me than there is.”
She tilted her head a fraction to the side. “Perhaps I am my mother’s daughter after all—I have decided on you, Jason. And if that is a foolish choice, it is also one I will never regret.”
He clamped his hand over her wrist when she would’ve turned away, holding her to him. Instead of struggling, she stilled, her eyes glimmering with determination and another emotion far more dangerous.
“I can’t give you what you want,” he repeated, some unknown thing tearing and ripping inside him at the thought of having to sever his connection to her, when it was the first time in his life he’d trusted even a part of himself to a lover.
A soft smile. “Did I make any demands, hmm?” Lifting her free hand, she ran her fingers along his jaw. “I have so much love inside me, Jason. So much. And I have never been allowed to shower it on anyone—no one has wanted it. Let me stretch the wings of my heart with you.”
He could feel his fingers tightening on her wrist, forced himself to loosen his hold. “Will it be enough to love and not be loved?” he asked, knowing it was a brutal question. “To give and never receive?”
Her smile grew impossibly more luminous. “You have no idea what you give me.”
Jason didn’t release her wrist. This could only end in tears—there was no other possibility. But when he would’ve spoken, she pressed her fingers to his lips. “Do not be arrogant, and I shall not have to be sharp in return.” Teasing words but her intent was pure steel. “I am a woman grown,” she said. “I know who I am, and I understand the choices I make—if what you can give me isn’t enough, I’ll walk away. I will not blame you for my choice, so let it be my choice.”
Jason released her wrist before he did damage to bones so fragile under his strength. Regardless of her eloquent promise, his instincts raged at him to end this, protect her from pain of which he’d be the cause. But the quiet challenge that vibrated in every inch of her body made it crystal clear she wouldn’t easily accept his decree. No, this princess who had lived a life that would’ve broken most, and come out of it believing in hope, in love, was made of far tougher stock.
Mahiya would fight to hold on to him.
A strange violence of emotion crashed inside him . . . and he knew he wouldn’t make the rational decision. Not when it came to Mahiya. “I didn’t tell you something,” he said, wishing the pathways inside him had not been stunted by the lack of light, that he was capable of giving her what a man should give his woman. “Venom did find fresh tracks in some of the other tunnels.”
No exultant victory on Mahiya’s face at his unspoken decision, just a silent joy that scared him on a level nothing had touched for an eon. “And old as the tunnels are,” she said, “some exits and entrances must’ve been forgotten, left unguarded.”
Jason recalled what Venom had said.
“Only reason I even know the ins and outs of the entire labyrinth is that when I was first Made, I was . . . closer to the otherness in me. I can’t work out how anyone else would’ve known some of the oldest parts of the tunnels—but that’s where I found the footsteps.”
“Twin siblings,” he murmured, “one of whom had an affinity for snakes, would’ve turned those tunnels into their playground.” Where Neha might have forgotten the complexities of the underground system, Nivriti had had nothing but time and the driving desire for vengeance to hone her memory. Still—“I don’t see Nivriti using them for a large-scale attack. It’d take too long to bring in her people one at a time, leave them vulnerable to extermination if they were spotted.” A fire within the tunnels would annihilate.
Mahiya wrapped her arms around herself. “I want my mother alive, but should Neha die, the entire territory will be thrown into chaos, millions of lives at stake.”
Jason shook his head. “Only another of the Cadre can kill Neha. Had Nivriti joined their number, the whole world would’ve stood witness.” All ascensions to the Cadre initiated worldwide phenomena that could not be ignored, as if the archangels were locked into the very fabric of the planet.
On the day that Raphael crossed the border, the seas had turned a violent, impossible blue, as had every river and every lake across the world. Even the rain that fell from the sky was a glorious gemstone blue, and when it shattered, it left behind a sparkling residue, faceted diamond dust in the palm.
“We must stop your mother,” he said, thinking of the power contained within the bodies of the Cadre. “She’ll never survive a confrontation with Neha.” The Archangel of India would need but a single strike to end Nivriti’s existence forever. “Speak to Vanhi, see what else you can discover.”
“I can’t tell her that my mother might be alive—Vanhi is loyal to both Neha and Nivriti, and might take it upon herself to attempt to negotiate peace.” Her hands fisted, her skin drawn tight over the fine bones of her face. “I just hope I will not have to mourn my mother before I ever meet her.”
* * *
Jason began to connect with his informants even as they returned to the fort, gathering fragmented pieces of data from across his network. Venom was gone, having left for the Refuge right after calling Jason about the tunnels.
“I stay any longer and Neha will consider me a spy.”
However, another one of the Seven arrived an hour before sunset, just as Jason returned from a meeting with a vampire who’d only today come from an area about four hours flight time from the fort.
“Aodhan,” he said to the angel who appeared to be made of fractured pieces of light, from the diamond brightness of his hair to wings whose filaments seemed coated in shards of broken mirrors. Only the golden sheen of his skin and the crystalline blue green of his eyes, the irises shattered outward from the pupil, saved him from being a sculpture in ice. “I did not expect you.”
“I cannot stay—Neha won’t permit another of the Seven here. Venom is an exception.”
Jason nodded. “You have something for me?” Aodhan was very, very good at filtering the information that flowed continuously through the Refuge. He would have made an excellent spymaster if not for the fact that there was no place in the world where Aodhan would not stand out.
Instead, the angel had long been Galen’s right hand in the Refuge. Now, he went to New York and the Tower, and would take up many of Dmitri’s duties while the leader of the Seven helped his wife through her transition. Whether the transfer would work, no one knew. As joint head of Tower operations, Aodhan would have to deal with any number of people, when he was a male who could not handle touch and sought isolation as often as not.
“It is the first time in centuries that Aodhan has indicated a desire to be a part of the world.” Raphael’s eyes, a blue seen in the wider world only on the day of his becoming Cadre, met Jason’s. “He must have the chance.”
Jason agreed, hoped the angel would make it.
Now, Aodhan said, “I know you can’t speak to me about the details of what you’re doing here, but I’ve detected a pattern linked to this region. It may have no relevance to your task, but my instincts say otherwise.”
35
Before the other angel could continue, a butterfly, its wings an unabashed red dotted with saffron yellow, alighted on Aodhan’s shoulder. Another followed a second later, its markings more modest, its wingspan larger. Aodhan looked at them, and for a fleeting instant, he was a young angel again, woefully embarrassed by his most curious of abilities.
“It’s as if they can smell me,” he muttered, but didn’t brush the delicate creatures away. Instead, he lifted a finger, and a third butterfly appeared out of the sky to alight on it, this one with wings of creamy sunset. “Illium says that perhaps I can use them to flutter someone to death.”
Jason watched as Aodhan put the butterfly carefully beside the others, creating a living ornament on his otherwise prosaic T-shirt of deep brown. They weren’t the only fragile beings of flight who were drawn to Aodhan—once, long ago, Jason had seen the other angel laughing as he was covered by an array of tiny jewel-hued birds, his attraction greater than the nectar on which they customarily sipped. “As Galen would say,” he replied, “Bluebell has the wings of a butterfly himself.” He knew Illium had done a great deal to pull Aodhan out of the abyss, that the bond of friendship between the two was fast.
Shaking his head, Aodhan returned to the subject at hand. “A number of older vampires and angels have resigned their posts without fanfare in several courts across different regions over the past six months, then disappeared off the grid. All of them had some tie to Neha’s territory in their past.”
Six months.
Time enough to set up a well-guarded base. “How strong were these angels and vampires?”
“No one as strong as Dmitri or you, but by no means weak. Together, they’d compromise a battalion powerful enough to withstand a significant and prolonged assault.”
If, Jason thought, that assault force didn’t include an archangel. “Did they take people with them?” Trusted retainers who could keep their mouths shut.
“Roughly five hundred once you put all the pieces altogether.”
Those were the people Aodhan had managed to track. There could well be any number of vampires or angels who pledged service to no court, and thus flew under the radar. Because while Nivriti might not have been an archangel, as an angel of acknowledged power, she’d ruled a vast swath of territory under Neha.
Jason had heard nothing that said her people had not been loyal. Such loyalties died hard, and three hundred years was no eternity in an immortal’s life. “Were you able to glean any information about their eventual destination?”
“Just this subcontinent.” Aodhan’s eyes fractured the reflection of Jason’s face into innumerable shards. “It’s a secret that’s been kept well.”
Unsurprising. Nivriti’s followers had to know that if Neha discovered the conspiracy, she’d hunt down her sister before Nivriti was ready for battle, and complete the execution she’d begun many mortal lifetimes ago. “One day,” he said to the other angel, “I’ll be able to tell you what you just gave me.”
Aodhan flared out his wings, the air around him busy with pieces of color as the butterflies perched on him took flight. “I will see you in New York.”
“Yes. Good journey, Aodhan.” As he watched the other angel take flight, a splintered piece of light in the sky, he was already calculating every angle of this problem.
It wasn’t until the next morning, the sky still a dark cloud-gray that he found the answer. “It’s time to tell Neha of Nivriti’s resurrection.”
“Yes. Shabnam’s blood . . . it screams for justice.” Deep grooves around Mahiya’s lush mouth. “What is it you’ve discovered that you choose this moment?”
When he laid it out for her, she sucked in a breath. “You play Russian roulette with an archangel.”