“Not in the city—two hours outside of it, with my bike fallen on the ground beside me.” His shoulders slumped. “I knew even then that it was all wrong; that area was nowhere in my plans for the day.”
Pain in eyes too bright to be real, eerie in a way that meant he’d never be mistaken for human. “It’s clear I’m no longer fit for my duties.” Words spoken directly to Raphael. “You must replace me. Gadriel is more than competent enough to take over. I . . . I . . . Sire, I do not know what to do, where to go.”
Raphael raised a hand flickering with wildfire. “There is a risk this will kill you.” A deadly remoteness to him, ice in his tone. “Wildfire is not meant for vampires. It may, however, be the only thing that can kill what is inside you.”
Riva shivered but gave a crisp nod. “I am ready.”
“Sit.”
A snap of the vampire’s spine. “I cannot sit in your presence.”
“If you manage to remain conscious through this, I will be very surprised. Sit.”
Riva still looked uncomfortable, but obeyed. Elena, meanwhile, put her hand on Raphael’s arm. His skin was cold. Tone it down—that’s angel-level wildfire.
Raphael didn’t reply, but the wildfire faded until only the tips of his fingers burned. He touched those fingers to the living infection. Riva’s entire body arched, his hands clamping on the chair arms and his muscles straining as he gritted his teeth against a scream. Wildfire crackled over his skin, burning him alive.
The scent of cooked flesh hit Elena’s nostrils. Her gorge rose.
31
Jerking forward on the instinctive desire to help, Elena reached out a hand . . . and the wildfire jumped onto the back of her hand, a shocking bolt of energy. Power burned over every inch of her, the surface of her skin cracking open to display veins of gold before they sealed over again.
“Elena.” Raphael’s hand on her nape, hauling her close.
“I’m fine.” Her chest heaved. “It was just one hell of a rush. Too much power inside me.” Energy arced from her heart to Raphael’s. He took it with no outward effects—and she was no longer choking on wildfire.
Sucking in gulps of air, she pressed her forehead against his chest. “That was weird.”
“As always, hbeebti, you are a mistress of understatement.”
“Riva?”
“Unconscious but alive.” His next words raised every hair on her body. “It is as well that he lost consciousness before the wildfire jumped to you. Else, I would’ve had to take his memories, and that is not always a simple thing with vampires this old. It can leave them with permanently broken minds.”
Drawing back, Elena held a gaze as cold as the heart of midnight, devoid of humanity or mercy. “Remember your promise, Archangel.” She’d told him to check the villagers’ minds yesterday; had that led to this?
“You would hold me to that even for a vampire who belongs to another archangel?”
Elena narrowed her eyes. “As long as I exist, you don’t get to fall into that particular black hole.” Of a power so violent it sought to reshape his very soul. “I’ll never let you become cruel or heartless. Violating minds is a step on the wrong road.”
Ice glittered in his expression. “This power, it tells me I would be better off without the weakness of you.”
Elena folded her arms, set her feet apart. “And what do you think about that?”
“That regardless of what I believed about my hold on the power, this battle has just begun.” Cupping one side of her face with a hand frosted in ice, he said, “It seduces with its strength, makes me want to alter myself to better host it.”
Turning her head, she kissed his palm though her skin was numb from the cold of it. “Just remember what happened to Lijuan. Do you want to be His Creepiness?”
“I would much rather be your archangel.” Dropping his hand from her face, he looked at Riva again, and though it was with the calculating gaze of an archangel weighing up a threat, his voice held a hint of warmth when he spoke. “Riva will be fine, but we have a problem.”
Elena deliberately leaned her body against Raphael, using her own heat to warm him up. “This is no simple infection.”
“No. It’s too much of a coincidence that it attempted to take the leader of this city—the intent must’ve been for it to grow strong enough to control him. As Favashi was controlled.”
“Why not go straight for the brain?” Gruesome as it was to consider, a worm in the brain would be an efficient shortcut.
“Too likely to end in death?” Raphael suggested as he opened up his wing to curve it around her, warm and heavy. “It’s also possible that what matters is a critical mass, not the location of it.”
“Did it feel the same as the stuff in Favashi?” An archangel and a vampire were two very different beings.
A pause, Raphael absently brushing his hand down her spine. “No. That poison is designed for archangels; it would lead to immediate death for ordinary angels and vampires. This is a softer thing, but I sense Lijuan’s hand in it.”
“You planning to speak to the Cadre?”
“I must. Each and every individual in a position of power in China must be checked for signs of infection. I can use wildfire to clear it from their bodies while I’m here, but that is a short-term measure.” His next words were hard. “Let us hope it is confined to the vampires. Because if angels can be controlled thus, there is only one option: annihilation.”
Because free of any angelic oversight, vampires across China would inevitably give in to bloodlust. They would torture and murder, rend and tear. They would become a horde that spilled over into neighboring territories. The Cadre would execute every single living being in China, stain its soil a permanent red, to prevent that outcome.
* * *
• • •
Kill it. Burn the entire territory down to the ground.” Charisemnon bit out the words, but even the Archangel of Northern Africa had a grim look on his handsome face at the idea of such a death toll.
“If only that were a viable choice,” Astaad murmured. “It will not end the threat posed by Lijuan.”
“And death on such a scale?” Neha’s sari was a deep yellow with a rich pink and gold border and the silk of it whispered as she moved a hand in a strong negative. “It will leave a stain across eternity.”
“You are all being very careful not to look at me,” Caliane murmured in a quiet voice that held the echoes of hundreds of crying children; they were ghosts of the dead that his mother carried within and would into her final Sleep. “But of all those here, I am the only one who understands the toll it takes to wipe out thousands of innocent lives—I cannot be permitted to hide from my knowledge.”