When Raphael saw how many other curious angels were heading toward the luminescence, he ordered everyone but the squadron to fall back.
Obedience was immediate.
Wow.
Raphael had to agree with Elena’s awed whisper. He’d been alive an eon longer than her and he’d never seen such a sight. What had seemed blood red from the Tower proved to be a complex blend of colors, true red only at the very top edge. Even there, it wasn’t blood red but a deep pink red.
That shade faded into a softer pink; the colors that rippled below it were blues and greens and golds and so many other hues that he didn’t have names for all of them. It is like an aurora on the ocean. A lovely vision thrown up from the depths.
How high does it go?
Raphael flew up, and up. As high as the Tower. Arrowing back down to hover beside Elena, he watched the owls dance over and through the light and, despite his suspicions of the Cascade, could find nothing threatening in the sight. It was an artwork given life, a song painted in color and light.
Raphael. I have Jessamy on the line. Dmitri’s confident dark-edged voice. I’ve asked her if she’s heard of this phenomenon.
Tell her that it appears peaceful at first glance. The owls are certainly happy with it. It may be linked to Cassandra.
A pause, during which he and Elena winged along this side of the sea aurora. Bathed in that light, Elena’s wings shimmered a stunning array of color, a mix of her own and the aurora. When she reached out a careful hand toward the light, he went to stop her, but it was already too late.
The light painted the canvas of her skin but it didn’t stick, her hand unblemished when she drew it back. Sorry, I shouldn’t have done that but I felt so safe. A glance at the owls. I think they know this isn’t harmful.
Raphael sliced his wing through the light. There is energy here. A power. It resonated deep within him. But I sense no malevolence.
The sea aurora was moving steadily toward his city. Dmitri, do you have anything?
Jessamy just found a reference to a “dream of light and color over the ocean.” It’s in an ancient text that vaguely mentions Cassandra—Wait. Thirty seconds passed. Here’s the quote: “And in that dream of light and color over the ocean danced the seer’s wings. The two are ever entwined and never together. One of light and dreams, the other of blood and prophecies.” Make sense to you?
I’m afraid it might.
Elena, now close to him, said, “Why the look?”
He told her what Dmitri had just said and watched her work it through. A tiny frown dug its way between her brows. “One of light and dreams, the other . . .” A widening of her eyes. “Shit. Another waking Ancient?”
“That seems to be the unavoidable explanation.”
“Fuck.”
“Yes.” Aegaeon had stirred in Astaad’s territory, Cassandra was in a fitful Sleep at best, and now this. “For the time being, however, it doesn’t appear to be dangerous. I will allow our people to view it as long as they follow the squadron’s orders.”
Angelic silhouettes lifted up from roofs and balconies and streets all over the city as Elena and Raphael flew back. A number of seacraft began to chug their way toward the light.
Dmitri and Venom were waiting on the Tower roof and Raphael angled that way, Elena beside him. The snow on the roof softened the sound of their landing, and the light, when they turned to look back at it, remained as beautiful and as eerie.
Venom came to stand beside Elena, Dmitri beside Raphael.
“I took a call while Dmitri was talking with Jessamy.” Venom slipped his hands into the pants pockets of his deep gray suit. “It was from Charisemnon’s second.” His lip curled up at the mention of the archangel who’d caused the Falling, crashing angels to the ground all over New York. “Images of the light phenomenon have already spread around the world. He called to ask if we believed an archangel was waking.”
Raphael spread his wings, closed them with slow deliberation. “That’s a highly specific question.”
“I pointed that out. Response was that a remote lake in their region has just frozen over—within it are millions of translucent bubbles, the colors intimately similar to our aurora over the sea.” He passed across his phone. “Pure luck anyone found it—a senior angel decided to take the long way home.”
“Wow again,” Elena said.
“Indeed.” The water was a glossy sheet, the bubbles below pristine and perfectly formed. Air caught in ice. “Do they know if this occurred at the same time as the sea aurora?”
A shake of Venom’s head. “I got the impression they discovered it a couple of days ago, but kept it quiet.” No surprise in his tone at such behavior from Charisemnon’s court.
“I can see why they think the two incidents are connected.” Elena handed back Venom’s phone. “Those are distinctive colors in the bubbles and in the light.”
“How many Ancients can the world sustain?” Dmitri folded his arms across his chest. His black shirt rippled in the cool wind coming off the water in the distance.
“We are currently nine. The tenth should be an archangel not an Ancient, but the world will not break if we are three Ancients.” He seemed to recall a long-ago history lesson in Jessamy’s classroom that mentioned a Cadre with three Ancients.
“After that, Ancients who awaken will cause major disruption and chaos unless we lose several current members of the Cadre.” Their powers would be too close together, the energies too violent—and the old tended to be set in their ways, not ready for this new world. “It’ll make the Cascade look like a training run.”
Elena sucked in a breath. “That bad?”
“We survived with eleven before because Mother did not want territory and China is so huge that Favashi was far distant from her. We can rely neither on a lack of territorial desire nor geography with any new archangels or Ancients.” His mother was a unique case in not wishing to rule a vast area.
“You’ve seen how much violence two archangels can do in battle.” Raphael and Uram had nearly destroyed New York. “Now imagine that happening between more than two archangels, the battles taking place in multiple locations around the world at the same time.”
Elena’s gaze returned to the sea aurora. “You can be an Ancient and not be an archangel, right?”
“Yes. But any Ancient who awakens with natural phenomena such as this is an archangel.” The light continued to hang over the sea, seeming to ripple in the wind, a gentle music.
Dmitri’s phone rang. He glanced at it. “It’s Rhys.”
A senior general in Neha’s territory.