We saw it, but thought they would make it through winter. I, myself, hadn’t understood the depth of their growing depression until Suyin made her pronouncement and I saw hope return to their faces—she proved herself a true archangel that day, Illium, by seeing what even those living the pain couldn’t.
In angelkind, such depression was simply called “mind darkness.” Aodhan’s mind had gone dark for a long, long time after his captivity, the shadows so infinite that he’d barely been able to glimpse the light. He would’ve castigated himself for not picking up the populace’s increasing despair if Suyin alone hadn’t been the one to spot it.
Sometimes, it took an archangel. Because an archangel wasn’t formed by power alone.
One angel said to me that they’d rather fall under the weight of snow on their wings, than shrivel up inside the tainted walls of the stronghold.
Illium’s response was swift. I get it.
Of course he did. Because he’d witnessed Aodhan’s spiral into despair firsthand. It hadn’t been right after his rescue. He’d been badly physically injured then, but he’d been present—and focused on his recovery. The mind darkness had come after his body was whole once more, his wings capable of flight. But he hadn’t flown.
He’d fallen.
36
Yesterday
It was Naasir who finally found Aodhan.
Twenty-three months of relentless searching and it was Naasir’s primal ability to follow scent trails that led them to Aodhan. Raphael had made the strategic decision to pretend to stop looking and allow everyone to believe they’d given up on the lost young angel—but he’d made the decision on Naasir’s advice.
“Sometimes, predators hide their prey,” Naasir had said, his eyes not in any way human. “Hide it so well that no one else can find it. They only come out when they think the coast is clear—that’s when they can get careless, and that’s when we’ll strike.”
Because they all, each and every one, knew this had nothing to do with an accident on a courier run, Aodhan’s body lost to the ocean. Aodhan had always been coveted—unhealthily so by many.
Now, one of those ugly obsessives had taken him.
Raphael respected Naasir’s advice and wild instincts, but he hadn’t been certain the gambit would work—and he’d hated the anguish of Aodhan’s parents and Lady Sharine. They all believed he’d given up in truth—because he couldn’t let them in on the plan; they all loved Aodhan too deeply not to give away the game.
Illium, of course, had had to know. The three-hundred-year-old angel who’d been on the road to make squadron commander of an elite squadron prior to Aodhan’s disappearance, had lost considerable weight, his cheeks hollow and his shoulder blades sharp—but he’d lost none of his strength. Rather, he’d made a concerted effort to force nutrition into his mouth.
“I can’t help find Aodhan if I’m in the infirmary,” he’d said, his face grimmer than Raphael had ever seen it. “Whatever it takes, I’ll do.”
But even Illium, with his fierce faith in Naasir’s strategic thinking abilities, had hesitated when Naasir first suggested his idea. It was Dmitri who’d put it all into stark perspective. “We have no other option,” he’d said. “We have to try this—if it fails, we restart the open search. Nothing is lost in attempting to mislead our quarry.”
What was left unsaid was that they’d failed in their open search. Not only Raphael and his people, but the people of friendly archangels and senior angels. Even Neha, busy with problems in her own territory, had assigned squadrons to search India. Uram, too, had come through, as had Elijah and Titus, and they weren’t the only ones.
The cooperation wasn’t only because of their friendship or respect for Raphael, but because of the gift of Aodhan. It had become clear in the last century that Aodhan was the Hummingbird’s artistic heir. Their styles and pieces were unique to each, but the glory of their work . . . One day, Aodhan would be as revered as Lady Sharine, but for now, he was a bright, bright light no one wanted to see extinguished.
All of angelkind knew that to hide a single angel wasn’t a difficult task, especially had the hiding place been prepared in advance. What Raphael refused to believe was that Aodhan was gone forever. He’d shut his ears to those who whispered that talented, loyal, quietly powerful Aodhan had been stripped of his wings by an angel who coveted his beauty, then murdered.
He wouldn’t believe Aodhan lost forever until he saw concrete evidence. Given how obsessed certain angels and vampires were with Aodhan’s unique appearance, captivity also made far more sense. There were many stunning immortals and near-immortals in the world, but there was no one like Aodhan.
“I don’t want the attention,” he’d said to Raphael as a youth on the verge of manhood, a flush on his cheekbones and confusion in his unusual eyes. “Why do they keep insisting?”
“Is it any particular person?” Raphael had asked.
“A few.” Aodhan had given him the names, and those names had spanned the gender and age spectrum, Aodhan’s astonishing beauty a drug to many. “I don’t want to get them in trouble . . . but they make me uncomfortable.”
“I’ll deal with it.” He’d gripped Aodhan’s shoulder when the youth went to open his mouth. “What they are doing is unacceptable, Aodhan. You’ve made it clear that you aren’t interested. They have no right to keep pushing—so now they will get a personal visit from your archangel.”
Raphael would’ve done the same for any young person in his court. He did not intend to keep a court like Charisemnon’s, where sexuality was encouraged to the point that it enveloped every part of court life—and ensnared those far too young.
“What about the others?” Aodhan had asked, his voice hesitant. “The ones who don’t push into my space, but who stare? How do I handle that? When I was a kid, Illium told me to ignore the stupids and it worked . . . but now . . . The attention makes me feel soiled.” He’d swallowed. “I know they’re not touching me, but it feels like it.”
Raphael had considered his response with care. “It’s not of your doing. Know this first of all. Those are the actions others choose to take.” He’d wanted to make it clear that no blame lay on Aodhan for any of this.
“You can call it out when you’re comfortable—some will then back off. Others won’t and justify it to themselves and to you by terming it admiration.” It was an unfortunate truth that such was the way of those who thought only of their own needs, immortal or mortal.
“But,” he’d continued, “there are many who will be embarrassed and aghast to realize they are causing you discomfort.” A lot of people were so struck by Aodhan that they forgot themselves; this didn’t excuse their actions but at least they could be taught to be better. “And, Aodhan—there will come a time when you are so strong that no one will dare look at you with such open greed.”