“Jason hasn’t been able to glimpse her, but all signs point to that.” Features grim, Raphael stretched out his wings before tucking them back into his body, the white fire that licked over his feathers appearing an illusion created by sunlight.
Naasir had been fascinated by angelic wings since childhood. When Raphael first found him, he’d gripped at the feathers hard, pulling off a large white one with golden filaments that he’d held possessively in his fist. He hadn’t known he wasn’t supposed to touch angelic wings, that it was an intimacy permitted only to friends and lovers, and even though he didn’t have that excuse now, he did still sometimes touch one without asking.
Only of his friends and family, however. Only people who wouldn’t look at him as if he’d done a terrible thing. Yesterday, he’d lain on the grass with Elena after a sparring session, and she’d put her wing across his chest so he could stroke the sleek beauty of it as much as he wanted. Black and indigo and midnight blue and dawn and white gold—Elena had such fascinating feathers that he’d been tempted to steal one of each shade, except the colors blended seamlessly into each other.
Then she’d fallen asleep on the grass beside him.
He’d thought about reminding her that he was dangerous, but since he wasn’t ever going to hurt her, he’d let her sleep and played with her feathers instead. He was as fascinated by Raphael’s wings, but he resisted the temptation to grab at them when Raphael turned to head to the balcony. He wasn’t sure the unpredictable white fire wouldn’t burn.
Naasir followed the sire, going to crouch at the edge in his favorite position. He could see a stream of tiny yellow cabs from here, flowing along the straight ribbon of the road. The scents this high were faint but he caught a hint of the river and of the green, growing things in the Legion’s home. The green smells made him want to break free, to stretch out in a way he couldn’t, even in Central Park. “Is Lijuan searching for Alexander?”
“Jason isn’t certain, but he’s seen hunting parties being dispatched from Lijuan’s citadel. A member of one had a little too much to drink when they halted for the night, and Jason heard him boasting of how they were planning to find Alexander.”
“He’s not like Lijuan, is he?” Naasir had only been two hundred when Alexander went to Sleep, didn’t remember much about the silver-winged angel with golden hair. He did, however, have one faded memory of a powerful being hunkering down in front of him when he was yet a boy, the silver eyes that met his gaze as near to Naasir’s own eyes as he’d ever seen. “I think he gave me one of his feathers once. I wanted it because it was like my hair.”
At the time, he’d been too young to understand the why behind the unusual echo.
“I can well imagine him doing that.” Raphael’s tone was difficult to judge. “He was never cruel or callous, certainly never to children. And you he kept an eye on until you were full grown.”
Frowning, Naasir tried to bring the memory of his meeting with the Ancient into focus, but he’d been too young. “He was a good leader?”
“He was a great one,” Raphael said quietly, so many layers to his voice that Naasir couldn’t unravel them all. “He was also a viciously powerful archangel who preferred the old ways to the new, and who thought me an upstart. As a result, he almost started a war with me, but in the end, he chose to Sleep rather than indulge in violence.”
Wings whispering as his feathers slid against one another, Raphael came to stand right beside Naasir. His power burned against Naasir’s skin, but the pressure was familiar after so many centuries at his side.
“It’s possible Lijuan believes he might be an ally because of his past aggression toward me,” Raphael continued, “but given her delusions of godhood, it’s far more likely that she wants to kill everyone who might have the power to oppose her.”
Naasir’s hunting instincts rose to the fore. “Is Alexander powerful enough to do that?” If he was, maybe this time Lijuan would stay dead.
“Unpredictable. He was stronger than her when he went to Sleep roughly four hundred years ago, but Lijuan’s power has grown exponentially in that same period, while he’s been in stasis.”
Naasir knew that when angels Slept, they didn’t change, but that wasn’t his concern right now. “I need a scent to track and Alexander has been gone too long from the world.” Even Naasir couldn’t track a ghost.
That annoyed him; he didn’t like not being able to find his prey.
Like his mate. Who was hiding from him.
“You’ll have help,” Raphael replied, then paused to watch a solitary squadron fighter do a number of intricate flight moves while practicing with a crossbow. “Jessamy has a scholar studying under her who has specialized in the Sleeping archangels. Your task is to keep her safe and explore the locations she suggests.”
Naasir frowned. “Is her specialization known to others?”
“Yes.” Raphael’s voice was cold enough to frost the air. “It’s unlikely even Lijuan would order the abduction of an angel right from the Refuge, but given her track record of breaking angelic taboos, I have Galen and Venom keeping an eye on Andromeda regardless.”
“I’ll look after her.” Naasir could be a good guard dog when needed.
“You will also have to watch her,” Raphael said. “She is Charisemnon’s granddaughter.”
Naasir bared his teeth at the name of the archangel who had caused the Falling, the terrible event that had hurt or killed so many angels. Charisemnon was also responsible for a deadly vampire disease. “Why are we working with her?”
“Jessamy assures me that Andromeda is a scholar right down to the bone, one who cut all ties to her family when she arrived at the Refuge, and who is horrified at the thought of the murder of a Sleeper. Galen backs Jessamy’s judgment.”
Naasir nodded. “Galen has good instincts.” Jessamy was smart but with too tender a heart. “I’ll be able to tell if the scholar lies.” Immortal or mortal, liars had an unmistakable and sour scent. “But since Lijuan’s people are searching without success, Galen and Jessamy seem to be right about her loyalties.”
“Yes, close as Lijuan is to Charisemnon, he would’ve shared the knowledge if he had it. We will give this young scholar the benefit of the doubt and a chance to prove herself.”
“Who’ll watch over her when I need to explore the locations she suggests for Alexander’s Sleeping place?”
“You’ll take her with you.”
Naasir looked up at Raphael.
Blinked.
Then snarled. “I can’t be dragging around a historian. They break.” As a boy, he’d once broken Jessamy’s arm by jumping on her from a high shelf, he’d been so excited to see her. She’d told him not to worry, that she knew he hadn’t done it on purpose and that she’d heal quickly, but he’d never forgotten her cry of shock and pain—or the horrible crunching sound her arm made as it snapped.