“Infected.” Dmitri’s jaw worked. “But it’s also where he bases a good percentage of his army—they’re burning out the areas closest to the ports and shepherding the uninfected inward. Infected are being quarantined in various small towns.”
“The enemy has poisoned our world to win this war,” Raphael said and in his voice was the cold of the Cascade. “If we do not stop them here and now, their plague of death will cover the planet.”
60
The smoke over the city finally began to dissipate after sunset—when Lijuan’s reborn stopped attempting to cross the border. A few of the macabre walking corpses apparently had a semblance of primitive brainpower, because they caught a clue and began to hunker down on the other side of the line of blackened remains that marked where their brethren had burned up.
Lijuan’s squadrons drew back at the same time.
Now, the moon a spotlight in the sky, Elena sat on the edge of the balcony with her legs hanging over the side, Illium beside her. Raphael was up in the sky with Elijah, giving the other archangel the lay of the land.
“Naasir’s behind enemy lines,” she told Illium. “No one saw him enter the city but Raphael’s spoken to him.”
“I figured as much when I saw Galen in the sky.”
“Did you know Galen brought in a freaking catapult in pieces? It’s being set up on a rooftop, ready to pelt Lijuan’s people.”
“Makes sense,” Illium said. “Lijuan’s got a ton of old vampires and angels in her forces. Catapults are intimidating and something they fear.” He took a drink from the bottle of vodka in his hand, then passed across the bottle. Elena took a hit, the warmth of it spreading like fire through her system. “We fought together in the last major battle of the day.”
“How long do you think this pause will last?”
“I’m more worried about why they’ve pulled back.” He took the bottle back from her but didn’t drink, the aged gold of his eyes focused on the distance, where Lijuan’s troops were doing something they couldn’t quite figure out.
The enemy had finally begun to stomp on Vivek’s bugs. Most of the drones were also down. Lijuan’s people hadn’t found the cameras hidden in the facades of buildings, atop roofs or on streetlights, but many of those buildings—and cameras—had been damaged during battles. As a result, there were blind spots.
“Elijah hurt them pretty bad,” she pointed out. “He was throwing angelfire around like it was candy.”
“It’s a question of resources,” Illium murmured. “Lijuan has an overwhelming number of fighters who will follow her commands without hesitation. She—or her generals—could’ve simply kept sending through wave after wave of people. And Philomena wasn’t her only naturally powerful fighter.
“Even Elijah and Raphael couldn’t hold off that entire mass of fighters, not if they swarmed. No one but Lijuan could kill either of them, but the army could do damage and take over the city, lay siege to the Tower.”
“Yeah, I see your point.” The moon’s silver light shimmered on the ocean in the distance. “Have we kept an eye on the other waterways around New York? She isn’t sending people into the water so they can sneak up on us?”
“We’ve got dive teams double-checking on the sensors. Nothing. They’re not in the water. And they’re not in the sky—not unless . . .”
Horror curdled Elena’s stomach. “Oh, shit.”
Illium jumped to his feet, hauling her up at the same time. Vodka abandoned, they raced into the war room.
“Vivek!” Illium said. “How much has she fed?”
Vivek’s head snapped up from his focus on a computer screen. “Two mountains of flesh,” he said, “and they’re building another one it looks like. I don’t know how many bodies. Lot of wings in the last lot.” A frown. “But she was still limping badly afterward.”
“Bring up the images.”
A woman in a lovely gown made up of myriad shades of gray . . . the skirts of which shaped against her legs in a passing breeze. Two complete legs. And she wasn’t dragging either leg, the limp only a thing of motion.
Elena ran out of the room, her mind reaching for Raphael’s. Raphael! We think there’s a chance Lijuan’s fed enough to go noncorporeal with a bunch of her troops!
The sea crashed into her mind, the taste of salt sharp against her tongue. Elena, if you are in the sky, drop! ALL FIGHTERS, DROP!
She heard the troop-wide command just as she burst out onto the nearest balcony. The sky above her head crackled an incandescent white-gold shot with scorching blue. Precious wildfire going into the void to try to unmask Lijuan. If they were wrong . . .
Illium, Andreas, Nimra, Nazarach move your squadrons to the East River! Lijuan is halfway to the Tower! Elijah has activated his resting squadrons and they’ll join you! Galen, Aodhan—take the port! Ground teams on break—return to your positions. Venom, get ready for a renewed reborn assault.
The sky filled with wings on the heels of Raphael’s orders.
Elena rose into the air just enough that she could see what was going on. The battle was close, far closer than on the first front. Lijuan—legs definitely fully regrown and fuck it was freaky how quickly she’d done it—was spraying the sky with shards of starlight obsidian that were ruthless in their beauty.
Raphael was blocking the spray with wildfire, while Elijah attempted to hit her with angelfire. Around them, their troops were badly outnumbered; most had not been anywhere near the site when the order came. Even the vast majority of the Legion wouldn’t make it in time. Which meant Raphael and Elijah were under attack from not only Lijuan but a massive chunk of her army.
It was shaping up as a massacre.
Meanwhile the troops that had gone quiet near the port had risen again with bloody fury. At the front were three generals whose power was Lijuan’s obsidian. Galen and a tired Aodhan were in the air, but the numbers coming at them were catastrophic. They needed Raphael or Elijah, but neither archangel could break off from the fight against Lijuan.
Elena flew up to the Tower roof. Lifting open a specific weapons locker, she picked up a grenade launcher. The shot wouldn’t go far, but she didn’t need it to go far. Not if she could make this fucking work.
Hauling the thing up to her shoulder, she rose back into the air.
Focusing on Raphael and the lethal threat of Lijuan, she let her rage and her worry rise to fill her throat, her need to be next to him a pulse in her mouth.
Nothing happened.
Raphael barely dodged being skewered by Lijuan’s poisonous energy. She was releasing huge sprays of bolts rather than one at a time—because the Archangel of China didn’t have to conserve her energy. She could waste as much as she wanted.