Elena’s hand curled around his. “It’s Naasir. He can get out of anything.” Fierce belief, but below it was a dark worry.
Thinking of the black ash in Titus’s hand, Raphael knew she was right to worry. Naasir was strong and fast and highly intelligent, but he was currently trapped in the heart of enemy territory, and that enemy did not fight according to any known rules of war.
18
Naasir followed the faint smell of mortal food to a tiny settlement on a riverbank. Only three houses, all spaced generously apart, two with small fishing boats moored to rickety docks in front of the houses.
The farthest house had smoke coming out of the chimney and a neatly tended garden. That house was the source of the cooking and food smells. An old man and woman sat eating from small bowls on the porch of the house next to it. Both were wrinkled like walnuts and appeared as if they’d laughed for a lifetime.
Naasir smiled at seeing them. He would like to laugh a lifetime with his mate.
Turning his attention to the third house, he drew in a breath, caught no fresh scents.
Prowling around the backs of the houses, out of sight of the mortals, he listened at the door of the third house and heard only silence. No breathing within, no heartbeats. When he turned the handle, it opened without resistance. Walking in, he saw it was empty but clean. There was a bed and he found sheets in one cupboard, plates, cups, and utensils in another, but saw no signs of recent habitation. No food anywhere, no towels hung out, the fireplace neatly swept out and cold to the touch.
It was probably a hunting or fishing cottage, he thought, catching faint traces of old animal and fish blood on a table on the back porch when he ventured out again. The other two with their thriving gardens looked like permanent homes, but this one had an empty yard overgrown with grasses and weeds. A little more investigation and he found a small boat garaged neatly in a tin shed, as if its owner had put it away for the season.
Deciding it would be a safe enough hiding place since he’d hear anyone who attempted to come in, he prowled away as soundlessly as he’d arrived and made his way back to Andromeda. He couldn’t see her at first, but he could scent her. Grinning because she was smart, he looked up and there she was, sitting on a branch. “I’ve found us a hide,” he said.
She jumped off, using her wings to balance herself. “I might need some food,” she said apologetically. “I’m burning more energy than I usually do, and I’m too young to go without food for long.”
He’d already worked that out. If she didn’t feed, she’d start to weaken, her body cannibalizing itself from the inside out. “I have a plan.” He waved at her to follow him. “Be a shadow.”
She was too noisy to be a shadow but it didn’t matter. By the time they arrived, the two fishing boats were gone and all was quiet. He stealthily checked the houses to ensure no one had stayed behind—or had entered the empty house since his departure.
Only once he was certain all was clear did he take Andromeda to the house. “Stay here,” he said, palming a small knife he’d earlier seen on the kitchen table. “I’ll get food.”
She shook her head. “We can’t steal from these people—they look as if they have little enough as it is.”
“I won’t. Trust me.”
A small nod. “I can see a fishing pole there. I might try with that while you’re gone.”
“No. You’ll be too visible.”
The skin around her mouth tightened, but she didn’t argue. “Stay safe. I’ll watch out for you.”
Leaving her after doing another circuit to ensure no one else was around, he took off at high speed. It didn’t take him long to get what he needed. It was only when he was at the door she’d opened that he realized he’d brought her meat. He’d been proud of being able to feed her, had forgotten he wasn’t supposed to offer a woman meat.
Her eyes went to the rabbit he’d taken in the hunt. He’d been quick, merciful. He was always fast and he never hurt his prey. They fed him and for that, he was grateful. He was a predator. He had to eat. That was the natural order of the world. And he was careful never to take things of which there were a small number in the world. He didn’t want them to disappear.
Today, however, he realized he should’ve tried fishing even if it was a far less efficient method of finding food—if fish could even be called food. Before he could speak and try to stop Andromeda from screaming, she said, “Oh, you caught something.” A frown. “Do you think it’s safe to light the fire in here? There doesn’t seem to be any electricity.”
Walking inside after her, he put his catch on the kitchen table. “There’s no reason anyone should wonder about this cabin from the air,” he said, treading carefully because he wasn’t sure if Andromeda really wasn’t angry he’d brought her meat. “The neighbors who know it’s empty are gone.”
“Great. I unearthed the firestarting tools.” She laid the fire using the sticks and pieces of wood in a basket next to it, then started it with competent hands.
Since he’d already cleaned and prepared the results of his hunt before bringing it to her, all they had to do was put the meat to roast on the spit already set up in the fireplace. Naasir sighed at seeing perfectly good meat get seared, but he didn’t say anything. He knew Andromeda wouldn’t want to eat raw meat.
After placing their clothes near the fireplace so they’d dry, she sat and turned the spit as needed. “You were really quick.”
“I didn’t have to go far.” He’d scented the existence of prey on his first sortie. “I took the old one in the group, the one whose time had come.” Never did he take the young ones, for that would destroy the ecosystem of which he was a part.
“My thanks to the hunter, and my thanks to the creature that gave up its life so we can live.”
Naasir looked at her profile. “You are a scholar.”
Somehow, she understood what he was asking. “I didn’t grow up a scholar. My parents are based in an untamed part of Charisemnon’s territory.” When Naasir bared his teeth at the sound of her grandfather’s name, she nodded, her next words blunt. “Yes, he is a disgusting excuse for an archangel.”
The ugly emotion in Andromeda’s tone had him growling. “Did he touch you when you were a cub?” Naasir knew of Charisemnon’s appetites, that he took those not yet full-grown to his bed.
Andromeda shuddered. “No . . . but he looked at me in a way that made it feel as if I had spiders crawling over my skin.” She shook herself, clearly throwing off the memory of the sensation. “My parents control a remote sector for him and it’s a sprawling place full of creatures wild and free.”