A few steps to the left and he confirmed it had been Xi who little Sam had seen. The general’s scent was familiar to Naasir after the years Naasir had spent in the Refuge. Xi’s scent, too, disappeared without a trace.
Aware he was racing against time, Naasir ran to the weapons arena where Galen was readying his squadron for an early-morning drill. The weapons-master took his men and women immediately into the air on hearing Naasir’s report, arrowing out on the flight path Sam had indicated.
Naasir didn’t stop. He made his way to Astaad’s Refuge territory and quickly located Dahariel. For the cruel, dangerous angel to have taught Andromeda to fight without ever making any demands on her pointed to a deeper emotional connection than Andromeda realized.
Dahariel was not known for his kindness.
The other man’s gaze glittered with ice on hearing Naasir’s report. “I’ll take my squadron to join Galen’s,” he said, his tone as cold. “You’re certain Sameon saw what he believes he saw? He is only a child.”
“Yes.” Sam didn’t lie and he was clever. “I’ll search the Refuge in case Xi doubled back and hid her here.”
A sharp nod and Dahariel lifted off on powerful wings patterned like those of an eagle, in shades of brown and black. It was possible the aerial pursuit would catch up to Xi and his men—had Illium been here, that would’ve been a certainty. But the blue-winged angel was in New York, his speed unavailable. And Xi had a head start. All he’d have to do to evade detection was take an atypical route or set down in a hidden area until nightfall.
Teeth gritted, Naasir snuck into Lijuan’s Refuge territory. There was no sign of Andromeda. Neither was there any sign of her in the Refuge territories of any of the other archangels. Her scent was freshest at the clifftop and even that had faded by the time he completed his intensive ground search.
Galen’s and Dahariel’s squadrons didn’t return until after the sun fell and the stars blazed.
They didn’t have Andromeda.
Naasir knew she had to be halfway to China by this point. To find her, he’d have to penetrate the lair of nightmare.
6
Raphael was sweat-slicked after a practice session with the dual blades he liked to use in combat, when Montgomery came out into the yard of Raphael and Elena’s Enclave home. It overlooked the Hudson, and across it, the steel and glass of Manhattan. Yes, Montgomery? he said without stopping the fury of the blades.
His consort would be bitterly disappointed to return home from her hunt to discover he’d taken time for a session. She loved to watch him, but even Elena, brave and brash and magnificent, didn’t attempt to join him. “I can’t so much as separate out your movements, you’re so fast when you do that,” she’d said the last time she watched him, her eyes sparking with unhidden appreciation. “And I’m quite fond of my head and would like to keep it attached to my body.”
“As would I,” he’d said before taking her to the grass for another kind of sweaty, heated battle.
The truth was that no one in his territory could do this particular exercise with him. Not even his deadly second. Of the archangels, Neha alone had the skill, speed, and strength. The others preferred different weapons, but the Archangel of India and Raphael had sparred together with dual blades once upon a time, Neha slender and fluid in combat leathers as she attacked and defended in equal measures.
Raphael didn’t regret executing Neha’s daughter for her crimes, but he did regret that it had so badly damaged his relationship with an archangel who, for all her stiffly traditional thinking and occasional cruelty, cared for her people and did not hesitate to share her knowledge with younger archangels.
Sire, Montgomery replied even as those thoughts passed through Raphael’s mind in a matter of split seconds. Galen wishes to speak with you. He says it’s a matter of urgency.
Raphael was already moving toward his study before Montgomery added that last. Galen only ever made contact if he had something to say. Entering the study, he saw Galen’s face on the wall screen. “What is it?” he asked his weapons-master.
“Xi has taken Andromeda,” Galen said, then told him the details.
Putting down his blades on his desk as he listened, Raphael wiped off his face using a towel Montgomery brought in. The chilled glass of water the butler offered was also welcome. The vampire left the room straight afterward, but even had he stayed, Raphael would’ve felt no concern.
Montgomery’s loyalty was without question.
“Naasir’s already on his way to China,” Galen said, the harsh angles of his face set in grim lines. “He caught a ride with my squadron to the airport. The jet’ll take him as far as Japan, after which he says he has his own methods of crossing undetected into Lijuan’s territory.” Galen shoved a hand through the deep red of his hair. “He refused backup, said anyone but Jason would get them both caught.”
“Wait,” Raphael said and, splitting the screen, contacted Jason. “Where are you?”
It turned out Raphael’s spymaster was in Neha’s territory, right next door to Lijuan’s. “Mahiya isn’t yet ready to return to her homeland and talk to her mother,” the black-winged angel said, speaking of his mate. “But she asked me to check up on her.”
“I need you to meet Naasir.”
When Raphael laid out the reason why, Jason’s skin pulled taut over his facial bones, the intricate Polynesian-inspired tattoo that covered the left side of his face suddenly stark against his brown skin. “There’s a reason I’ve always told Naasir not to try and get into Lijuan’s citadel.”
Galen, able to hear the conversation since Raphael had looped him in, nodded. “He’s too reckless, with no care for his life.”
That wasn’t quite true; Naasir did care for his life. He simply had no fear. As a result, he took far too many chances for Raphael to be certain he wouldn’t be caught by Lijuan—and unlike when Naasir had been a child, Lijuan wouldn’t forgive the trespass. “You’ve been in the citadel,” he said to Jason. “Can Naasir get in?”
“Yes.” Not in its usual queue today, strands of Jason’s black hair blew across the curves and fine dots of the ink that marked him. “He’s also stealthy enough to get away with it, if he doesn’t allow his more primal instincts to take the lead.”
“That might be a problem,” Galen said, his hands on his hips and tone rough with concern. “He was adamant that Andromeda is his responsibility.”
Galen had good cause to worry. Once Naasir took on such a task, he’d die before failing. “Go,” Raphael ordered Jason. “Track him down, and help him break out the scholar.” He knew Jessamy’s apprentice wouldn’t have been harmed . . . or not badly harmed in any case. Lijuan wanted the information Andromeda held in her head.