Raphael felt his lips curve. “Find out if any of Jason’s people know what’s happening with Elijah.” Raphael intended to talk to the other archangel himself, but honorable as he seemed, Elijah was Cadre, well tutored in the art of deception.
Dmitri was already pulling out his cell phone. “Favashi . . . I once saw her rip a vampire’s still-beating heart out of his chest and hold it in front of him until he died because the male dared disobey an order. She’s no vulnerable princess, for all she likes to use that image to her advantage.”
“The vampire challenged her power, Dmitri. You know as well as I that she could not let it go.”
Dmitri’s phone rang at that moment, and he brought it to his ear. Like all men, the leader of his Seven had a past. Even Raphael did not know everything of what had passed between Favashi and the vampire just over five hundred years ago, centuries before Favashi became Cadre.
What he did know was that Dmitri had come to him with a request that he be released from Raphael’s service. Raphael, a new archangel himself, hadn’t been able to afford to lose him at that stage and had asked the male to wait another year. He had not decreed it so—Dmitri had earned what he asked for—but the vampire had been agreeable.
“Favashi,” he’d said with a smile that had been rare before he met the Persian angel, “is too sweet to cast curses on your name, but I’ve been told that the instant the year is over, I am hers.”
Yet when that time came, Dmitri’s smile had long disappeared and aside from a single discussion where Raphael had asked Dmitri if he wished to leave, and Dmitri had replied with a curt “no,” they’d never spoken of it again.
Now, the vampire finished his conversation and closed the cell phone. “We may have a situation—Elijah was spotted flying into your territory. He is currently over Georgia.”
28
Coming on the heels of Favashi’s words, there could be only one response. Raphael contacted Nazarach and asked him to intercept the other archangel, invite Elijah to his home in Atlanta. “I will join you.” While he could and had flown such distances with ease, he decided to conserve his power in case Elijah had more than conversation in mind. “Tell Venom to prepare the plane,” he said to Dmitri after hanging up.
“Sire.”
“Dmitri.” He waited until the vampire turned, to say, “You will watch over her.”
“I made a vow. I won’t break it.” But Dmitri’s expression said he still wasn’t convinced—not when it had become clear after Beijing that Raphael’s bond with Elena had somehow made him weaker. He healed slower, was easier to wound. Such a flaw could be deadly for an archangel.
“Perhaps,” Raphael said to his second, “an archangel needs a weakness.”
Dmitri shook his head. “Not if he is to survive the Cadre.”
Sara was chatting with another hunter when Elena, the box containing the essence held to her side, poked her head around the open door of the Guild Director’s office. “Ash!”
The dark-eyed hunter looked up, a smile lighting up that face that wouldn’t have looked out of place on the silver screen. “Hey, Ellie.”
“So, it’s safe for you to venture out of the Cellars?”
Long jean-clad legs sprawled out in front of her, Ashwini buffed her nails on her white T-shirt. “No comment.”
Across the desk, Sara made an inelegant sound. “They’re flirting.”
Elena’s mouth fell open. “No.” She turned to Ashwini. “You and Janvier? I don’t believe it.”
“Janvier, who?” An angelic look that was so fake Elena burst out laughing.
“Did you really do what I think you did to him?” she asked, any remaining shreds of her earlier frustrated distress drifting away. Because this place, these people, they were hers, too.
Ashwini’s lips curved into a feral grin. “All I’ll say is that damn vamp will think twice about messing with me now.”
Sara’s phone rang at that moment. As she took the call, Ashwini lowered her voice and said, “Those wings are wicked awesome.” She wiggled her fingers. “Can I touch, or is that too weird?”
Elena knew Ashwini wouldn’t be offended if she said no—the other hunter had her own gifts, carried her own nightmares. “Quick touch of the primaries is okay.”
Ashwini ran a gentle finger over the large feathers of white-gold at the edges of her wings. “Wow. They’re alive—warm. I guess I never really thought about that.”
“You wouldn’t believe how much I have to learn,” Elena said as Sara hung up.
“Ash,” Sara said. “I have a job for you.” A slow smile.
Ashwini’s eyes narrowed. “No effing way.”
“Language.” Sara’s eyes were dancing. “Seems like Janvier’s got himself in trouble again. Florida—somewhere in the Everglades.”
“There are swamps there.” Ashwini gritted her teeth. “I hate swamps. He knows I hate swamps. That’s it—I’m going to kill him this time. I don’t care if I lose my bonus.” Snatching the piece of paper Sara was holding out, she stalked out of the room.
Elena grinned. “You know that’s just what I needed after the morning I’ve had.” She told Sara what had happened in the Bronx.
Her best friend flapped a hand. “The fascination won’t last, Ellie. You’re not pretty enough.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Hey, not my fault you hang around with gorgeous man-flesh.” A more solemn expression. “No matter what, you’ve got every hunter in the Guild behind you. Never forget that.”
“I won’t.” Raphael was her rock, but Sara and the Guild, Elena thought, were the foundation on which she’d built her adult life, found her footing. “How did you get to be so wise and all-knowing?”
“I hope Zoe thinks the same when she’s fifteen and wants to date some moronic senior.” Sara raised an eyebrow. “You want to talk about something else, I can tell.”
“Do you have Vivek’s blood stored?” The Guild did that for its hunters, for use in a medical emergency—however, Vivek wasn’t an active hunter.
Sara gave her a penetrating look. “No, but he’s up for his yearly physical next month.” A pause. “How much do you need?”
“A vial.”
“I’ll make sure you get it.”