Suicide was difficult for angels who weren’t incredibly young, but it could be done. “Good.” He put a hand on his best friend’s shoulder, squeezed. “Will you take the task of informing Aodhan’s parents?”
Raphael would normally pay them that respect, but Menerva and Rukiel were frightened of him. Not so odd if you considered that many people were frightened of archangels, but he found it strange when their son had never been scared in his company.
“Yes.” Dmitri’s hand fisted at his side, his jaw working.
“He is strong, Dmitri. He will return and he will be as powerful as always. Remember that.”
Neither one of them brought up the little boy who hadn’t survived abduction and torture, the little boy whose sobs and cries for his papa haunted Dmitri, but the ghost of little Misha stood between them—as he lived in the nightmares that haunted Dmitri hundreds of years after Misha had turned to dust.
Misha. Caterina. Ingrede.
Aodhan would not be another name to add to that litany of loss and grief.
Dmitri’s hand flexed, then curled inward again. “What will you do to her?” His eyes glowed with a red tinge—it was the first time in centuries that Raphael had seen his friend and second so close to bloodlust. Dmitri’s control over his vampiric urges was legendary.
“What she deserves.”
Dmitri didn’t question him further; he understood Raphael better than any other person walking this earth, and so he knew that the vengeance Raphael took would be appropriate to the crime.
Waiting only until his second had left to inform Aodhan’s parents, Raphael considered Lady Sharine. Jessamy, he said, reaching out to the kind angel of whom Illium’s mother was fond. Have you seen Lady Sharine today?
I’m with her now. Dmitri told me something was happening, that I should shield her from any news until you came to her.
Of course Dmitri had done that; that was why he was Raphael’s second. Because a second had to think for himself, do things without being ordered to do so. And because a second had to understand his archangel’s heart.
She’s quiet today, Jessamy continued. She’s painting while I sit with her and read.
Raphael considered which action to take first, decided on vengeance. Only once that was in play would he be calm enough to talk to Lady Sharine. To her, he would give a full accounting, nothing left undone. Can you stay with her awhile longer?
I’ll stay as long as needed, Jessamy said, her mental voice as gentle as her physical one. Rafa, is Aodhan home? It was a measure of her emotional state that she’d called him Rafa. These days, though she was the beloved of one of his Seven, she tried her best to remember his status as an archangel—rather than as her former troublemaker of a student.
Raphael felt no anger at the familiarity; he never would, not toward Jessamy. Yes, he’s home. But he’s hurt. I will have to break the news with care.
I will be a wall against all others, Jessamy promised.
Leaving her that trust, he strode toward the small stronghold. Trace, a vampire known for his suave ways and mild manner, stepped aside from the door he’d been guarding. He said nothing as he pulled that door open, but his eyes held the same red tinge as Dmitri’s.
All of Raphael’s people were angry.
Raphael had no need to ask for directions to Sachieri and Bathar. He could feel Galen’s rage like a beat in his veins. To his right hung the terrorized silence of a huddle of staff. Members of Galen’s squadron watched them with merciless eyes. Those eyes didn’t move off their quarry even when Raphael entered the space.
Leaving the warriors to their duty, he flew up to the mezzanine, then walked to the room that held the two people who had dared take one of Raphael’s own.
38
Galen’s pale green eyes flashed when he saw Raphael, his anger a flame as fiery as his hair.
Go, Galen. Watch over Lady Sharine with your Jess. Ensure no one gets to her.
I would see him.
Don’t get in Keir’s way—and, Galen? Be ready. They hurt him.
A curt nod and Galen was gone . . . but Raphael saw the shine of tears in the weapons-master’s eyes as he left. Raphael knew the angel’s huge heart was full of rage, Galen the most volatile of the six men he trusted most. Jessamy would help him find ease. Protecting Lady Sharine would further that aim.
He shut the doors behind Galen, then turned, looked.
Sachieri, she of the golden curls and sky blue eyes, sat on a heavy wooden chair, her arms twisted behind her back and tied tight. Her legs were tied as fast to the legs of the chair, each ankle secured with a separate rope. She was dressed in a gown of silken white that flowed like ice water, except where it’d been caught by the ties around her ankles. The cream hue of her skin bulged red-black around the ties.
No doubt, her wrists were as bruised.
The gag around her mouth dug into her skin and her eyes beseeched Raphael to set her free. She couldn’t touch his mind however, was too weak—and even had she not been, no one could touch an archangel’s mind that he did not permit.
Ignoring her for the time being, he glanced at the second prisoner.
Bathar had been hog-tied and left on the floor, discarded angelic trash. He was a follower, always had been. That Sachieri was behind Aodhan’s imprisonment wasn’t in question, but that didn’t make Bathar any less guilty.
Pulling over another chair, Raphael sat down in a spot from where he could see them both—and where they could see him. “You took one of mine,” he said with utmost calm. “What I will do to you in turn will make you forget that you were ever sentient beings, your minds and bodies a ruin.”
He used the barest flick of power to burn the gag from Sachieri’s mouth.
She began to babble at once in that pretty, high voice she used to make herself appear small and weak. Girlish. “I’m so sorry, Archangel Raphael! I didn’t want to do it, but he made me!”
Bathar bucked in violent protest, making stifled sounds behind his gag.
“I didn’t know he needed light to survive!” Sachieri continued. “If I had, I’d have made sure he had more! I tried to help him!”
Raphael smiled, and both angels went silent, the blood draining from their faces. “You do not need your mouths for me to learn what occurred. I’m considering obliterating your lower jaws to stop the whimpering and the lying and the begging.”
Silence now, huge eyes.
He went into their minds without warning. Small, weak, covetous minds. He saw that Aodhan had been Sachieri’s obsession, an obsession that caused an ugly jealousy in Bathar. Sachieri had driven the crime, yes, but Bathar had participated to the fullest extent.