“I will call you,” the Hummingbird promised. “But if Aegaeon dares come here, I will deal with him. This is a matter between me and your father.” She stepped back—but not before she turned to Aodhan and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Go home now, fledglings. I hear enough to understand that a terrible darkness threatens the world. And I know that Raphael needs his Seven and his consort around him at such a time.”
Illium looked at Elena, nodded.
The three of them took off as one, with Aodhan going high as he preferred—that high in the sky, he was a shooting star or a spark of sunlight caught on an unknown object. Closer to earth, mortals and vampires gathered underneath, pointing and gasping. Drivers had been known to stop their cars without warning, distracted by the shattered light that was his body in flight under the sun or the moon.
Illium looked back one last time after they’d flown some distance. Following his gaze, Elena saw the Hummingbird’s small figure on the distant rooftop, the creamy orange of her gown fluttering in the morning breeze. Elena raised a hand and the Hummingbird raised one back. Illium’s mother became too small to see a wingbeat later, her home fading into a backdrop of desert and sky.
* * *
• • •
Raphael watched the jet come in from his vantage point on a nearby rooftop, the afternoon light hazy. Dougal was bringing the craft in smooth and steady, despite the high winds that had begun to buffet the area over the past hours. The weather scientists were forecasting hurricane-force winds and rains.
New York wasn’t the only city affected; the entire Eastern seaboard was under threat. It was also snowing in Florida. Eli had returned home to find half his territory in the grip of a massive snowstorm. Michaela had contacted Raphael in a panic because she was having trouble fighting the winds in her own territory to get to her child, but it had eased enough that she’d been able to break through.
He hadn’t heard from the other archangels, but he knew they were all apt to be dealing with things deadly and dangerous and unexpected, the Earth in chaos. Neha had the worst of it, her entire army on constant watch to ensure the fog didn’t drift across her border.
“Though what I will do if it does encroach, I do not know,” she’d said to him and Caliane before they all parted after burying Antonicus; shadows under her eyes, she’d rubbed at her forehead.
Elena-mine, I have missed you. Such simple words for the raw ache inside him. He’d nearly lost her too recently to be easy with such a separation.
I can see you. Her happiness came through in a wash of molten steel against his mind. I plan to jump in your arms and kiss you stupid, so be ready.
Feeling his lips curve in a way only his hunter could engender, he took off and paralleled the plane’s descent from a short distance away. He could’ve gone much closer, but then Dougal might worry about catching him in the plane’s draw and he wanted the pilot’s focus to be on a safe descent. Because in that metal body was Raphael’s eternity.
Everything changed a third of the way through the descent. The strong winds began to twist into deadly funnels. One newborn twister spun into a small plane parked near a hangar; the plane flipped against the hangar wall, the force of it breaking the craft to pieces. A second twister hit a much larger jet that had just finished deplaning its passengers and crew—all of whom were Refuge-based soldiers Raphael had called home.
The jet was shoved halfway back down the runway where it slammed into another twister; the huge metal body groaned as it flipped over onto its back with a spark of metal on asphalt. Dougal, abort the landing! The pilot had a better chance of avoiding the twisters if he flew straight through and into clear air—the deadly funnels seemed focused in and around the airport.
It’s too late, sire! Dougal’s mental voice was faint—the vampire wasn’t as strong as any of Raphael’s Seven, but he’d gained enough power over the centuries that he could reply to Raphael instead of simply listening. The plane won’t have enough lift! It’s already shaking like it’s going to fall apart.
It was also too late for Elena, Aodhan, and Illium to fly out of the plane. The wind would pummel them onto the tarmac before they could gain the sky. The point was moot in any case—not one would abandon Dougal and his copilot.
What’s the plan, Archangel? Elena’s voice, calm and confident.
Let us test this Cascade power’s mettle. He reached for Dougal’s mind again. Cut all power. Release controls.
One second. Two. Then—It’s done. The plane is now a glider.
The wind whipping around his face and shards of debris slicing over his bare arms, Raphael flew to under the massive object. It was going fast, but he was an archangel. Matching its barreling pace, he put his hands on the undercarriage. Those hands looked ridiculously small in comparison to the vast metal structure, but this wasn’t about physical size. It was about power.
Raphael released his with a tightly focused intent that shaped its expression. Golden lightning kissed with a tendril of Elena’s warmth snaked across the undercarriage and along the underside of the wings. He’d never done this with such a large machine, but he’d once helped land a much smaller stricken craft. Then, he’d simply used his strength—a one-seater hopper was hardly a challenge.
But even an archangel couldn’t bear the weight of a full-sized jet. Which was why he’d created the network of energy. His muscles strained as he channeled his strength through that network, effectively turning it into a part of his body.
A twister headed right for them, angry and black. There was no way to avoid it. But he heard no cries of panic in his mind, no screams. His people and his consort were trusting him to get this done.
He reached for the Legion. As he did so, he felt a taste inside him that was Elena. Not paying it much mind for she was welcome anytime she wished, he wrenched power from the Legion in a way he’d never before done.
We are the repository, the ancient beings had said when they first emerged from the deep. We tried to pass it to the Sire, but the Sire is not yet ready.
Now that power flowed into him and it was different from the Cascade energy. It was painfully old and it tasted of the ocean’s cold embrace and time’s endless march. A reminder that the Legion had slept eons under the sea, and for much of that time, had been as the dead. But now, they were awake and they whispered in his mind.
Raphael. Aeclari. We see the mirror. We give.
The power sighed in his blood, then—under his command—spread outward along the frame he’d already constructed—only this time, it kept going until the entire plane was encased in a web of archangelic energy that repulsed any attempt at destruction.
They flew straight into the twister.
Muscles bunched, Raphael held the plane stable as the winds attempted to tear it from his grasp, even as they sought to collapse his wings. But his wings were rippling white fire and the wind could find no purchase.