As a result of Elijah’s stand, they still had at least five squadrons of fighters who would’ve otherwise fallen under the assault. But even if Raphael and Eli stripped the city’s entire grid, they didn’t have enough remaining power between them to demolish Lijuan’s forces. They’d do severe damage . . . but they’d flatline afterward.
Manhattan would then be helpless prey for a rejuvenated Lijuan.
Better for everyone to recover in readiness for her return—this time, they had a better idea of her vulnerabilities. Especially when it came to the bright new-leaf green that resulted from the amalgamation of Raphael and Elena’s wildfire. That stuff had hurt Lijuan.
Now, in this tenuous instant where they could catch a breath, Hannah was doing the rounds. Her people expected this from her, and their faces lit up when they saw her. They seemed to gain a fresh energy when she touched her hand to theirs or spoke to them for a moment or two.
Elena didn’t have the same relationship with her and Raphael’s people, but she had a relationship of her own, warrior to warrior. They told her about their injuries and asked her questions about the overall losses of the war. She didn’t lie to them—she and Raphael had agreed they’d tell their troops the truth.
Their courage deserved nothing less.
The only thing they wouldn’t share was Raphael’s depleted state. Angels, vampires, mortals, everyone needed to believe that their archangel was a power. Raphael had never before been so worn out. Even when he’d fallen with Elena in his arms that first time, he’d done so as a being of power who’d taken out a murderous enemy.
“We are holding up against impossible odds,” one of the senior soldiers said after her update. “No one could’ve expected Lijuan to bring her entire country into battle with her.”
It was about to get even worse, though they’d wait to share the news until after they were certain. Raphael’s forces had been able to neutralize the planes that had taken off from Charisemnon’s territory what felt like a lifetime ago, but their surveillance system had now picked up signs of ships heading toward New York. Those “trade” ships bore Charisemnon’s mark, and had been prowling in international waters prior to the war.
Lijuan was either about to get even more reinforcements, or the ships were filled with insects who’d become a plague. Raphael was currently holed up in the Tower with Dmitri and Galen, as well as Elijah and his top people, in an effort to come up with a way to take those ships out of the equation. Because if they landed . . .
Her phone buzzed. “If you’ll excuse me,” she said after a quick glance. “It’s my sister, Eve.”
A vampire so old that his face was ethereal in its beauty, said, “The little warrior? She is a brave one.”
“Yes, she is.” Stepping away, she took the call. “You’re okay.” She’d lost track of Eve in the chaos of battle, had had a fist clenched around her heart since her attempt to touch base with her sister got kicked to voicemail.
“I’ve been helping out in the Guild infirmary.” A slight tremor in the words.
“Tough gig,” Elena said softly, because underneath the bravery, Eve remained a child in the midst of the worst war the world had ever seen. “Your friends all right?” She couldn’t ask about her own, wasn’t ready to handle it if the news was bad. Ransom, Demarco, Rose, Kenji, and so many more of her Guild friends were on the battlefield. No one would’ve begrudged Ransom for going to safety with his wife and newborn baby, but he’d said, “I’m fighting for our kid’s future. Nyree understands.”
Eve inhaled on the other end of the line, the sound a touch shaky. “A friend of mine has a broken arm, another’s got bruises, but nothing worse than that. Sorry I missed your call—it got crazy in here after the reborn swarmed again. I have a bunch of messages from you and Amy, and Mom and Father.”
Father. Jeffrey had never been Daddy to Eve. Not as he’d once been to four little girls who’d laughed in delight as he pushed them on a swing.
Higher, Daddy! Higher!
Echoes of yesterday, poignant and beautiful.
That same man had danced one of his daughters across the living room floor, while another daughter took photographs with her beloved camera, and the baby of their family played in the corner.
Marguerite had often sat in a sunny spot in the living room, making this or that on the sewing machine Jeffrey would push out of her small sewing room and into the sunshine. Elena’s favorite spot had been on the bench of the sewing machine. Her mother had teased her that one day, she’d get too big to sit there and they’d have to reinforce it, but Marguerite had been long gone by the time Elena reached that size.
Today, her daddy was Eve’s father, and she didn’t think he’d ever laughed with his two youngest girls. Elena’s half sisters had grown up with a very different man than the one who’d loved Elena, Beth, Ari, and Belle. “How are they?”
“Good. Amy and Mom are volunteering in a warehouse that’s packing supplies for us, and Father’s involved with transporting them into Manhattan.”
Elena hadn’t known that, but it made sense. Jeffrey Deveraux had tentacles in every area of business in the city. If anyone knew supply logistics, it was Elena’s father. “But he’s outside Manhattan?” Their father was a brilliant businessman, hard as nails in the boardroom, but his kind of battle didn’t involve blades and guns and flamethrowers.
“Yes, he’s with Mom and Amy in New Jersey.” Eve exhaled slowly. “I said they should go farther away. Things are bad here.”
“I know. But the thing is, Eve, if we fall, it doesn’t matter how far they go.” Lijuan would spread like a virus across the land. “I think they’ll probably feel better if they stay and help in the fight how they can.”
She almost heard Eve swallow. “Yeah, that’s what Amy said. She said she might be crap at holding a sword and would probably vomit if she had to chop off a vampire’s head, but she’s really good at making sure supplies are packed exactly as they need to be packed so that all the space is used up. They put her in charge of one whole area of supplies.”
“Your sister is tough in her own way.” Had become so after realizing that Jeffrey would never love her own mother as much as he’d loved Marguerite. It had grown a hard angry core inside Amy that Elena wasn’t sure would ever melt—but that clarity of vision came from a tough, pragmatic nature.
“Amy always protected me when we were little. She never backs down from bullies and she says Lijuan is just a very powerful bully.”
“Your sister’s right.” Not for the first time, Elena wished she had a relationship with Amy, but she wasn’t about to push where she wasn’t wanted.