Archangel's Enigma

24

Naasir wasn’t surprised when Jason landed beside him soon after he hit the shores of Japan. The barge hadn’t brought him all the way—he’d transferred onto another friendly and much faster vessel soon after Andromeda took flight. When he’d dived from the barge to swim across to the sleek little freighter, both crews’ mouths had fallen open. Someone had screamed.

He didn’t know why. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t swim.

“Andi?” he said to Jason as the two of them spoke on a deserted part of an otherwise busy dock.

“Isabel tells me she’s safe inside Amanat.” Lines of tiredness marked Jason’s ordinarily impassive face. “I just returned from the border between Titus and Charisemnon.”

“War?”

The black-winged angel shook his head. “A small skirmish neither side appeared to want to fan into full flame.”

“That won’t last.” Titus and Charisemnon had disliked each other for centuries if not millennia, and with the world going to hell, that dislike would collide into all-out war sooner rather than later.

“No,” Jason agreed as one of his feathers drifted to the scarred and stained concrete of the dock. “But the region’s stable enough right now that Raphael doesn’t have to worry about any ripple effects.”

Naasir had always liked Jason, but as he grew, he’d started to see that the strong, black-winged angel was lonely. Perhaps even lonelier than Naasir. He’d tried to draw Jason out, instinct telling him it wasn’t good for the angel to exist so tightly within himself, but Jason had stayed contained and remote. No longer.

“Your mate must be missing you,” he said. “You should go home.”

Jason’s dark eyes flickered the tiniest fraction but in that flicker, Naasir saw his friend’s raw need to return to his princess. “You and Andromeda will require backup.”

“If we do, I’ll contact the Tower.” Naasir had thought the plan through during his and Andromeda’s escape, discussed it with her. “Locating Alexander isn’t a sure thing.” Andromeda had made it clear her expertise only went so far—no one could predict an archangel’s actions with pinpoint accuracy.

“And it’s better if it’s a team of two,” he added. “We’ll have to move with stealth so no one spots us and alerts Lijuan’s people that they’re in the wrong place.”

Jason stretched and resettled his wings in silence. “You know I have people scattered across the world. If you need immediate assistance, call me.”

“I’ll buy a new phone before I leave the country.” He had money on a card stored in a thin waterproof case in his back pocket. At first when Illium had given him such a card, he’d spent hours staring at it, trying to figure out how it worked. He’d finally made his brain understand that the card was a kind of machine that moved money from one place to another.

When he used it in a shop, the card moved money from his own treasury to that of the shop’s. Dmitri and Illium kept an eye on his money, so he didn’t really have to think much about the mechanics of it all. What he did know was that he had plenty of funds. Raphael had always been more than fair toward his Seven, and Naasir was very good at hunting down treasures everyone thought lost.

Treasures like the stupid Grimoire book.

“Tell me what you know about a book called the Star Grimoire,” he ordered Jason, because Jason knew everything.

A raised eyebrow. “It’s a mythical book coveted by those who collect such things.”

“Do you know where it is?”

Jason’s eyes narrowed, his expression intent. “No . . . but two hundred years ago, I met an old one of our race who spoke of the Grimoire’s red leather binding and golden edges.” A pause, Jason’s form motionless in a way Naasir had never seen another angel replicate.

He didn’t interrupt. Immortals had long memories, but Jason’s was near flawless. The other man just had to track down the right piece of it.

“And this book of mysteries untold had a golden clasp carved with the fearsome image of a crouching griffin.” Jason’s voice held a rhythm not his own.

Memory stirred in Naasir, hinting tantalizingly at a clue, but stayed annoyingly out of reach when he lunged for it. “Was there anything else unique about it?”

“Yes,” Jason said after almost an entire minute of silence. “A mythical beast in gold, stamped or engraved in the leather on the front.”

Memory whispered again, only to fade. No matter. Naasir had the bit between his teeth now. First he’d find Alexander, then he’d find the Grimoire. Because Andromeda was his mate and he wanted to claim her. She might not agree with him yet, but she smelled like his mate and she liked him in his true skin, and she was as fierce as his mate should be.

He liked everything about her except her vow of celibacy.

At least if he found the Grimoire, he could court her in truth. He wanted to seduce her, wanted to make her melt. Mostly, he just wanted to keep her.

Andromeda woke to skies streaked with the vivid violets and golds of sunset.

Still wearing the robe she’d discovered on the back of the bathroom door, she got up to find her wings rested and her feet no longer as sore. Maybe she was getting stronger now that she was nearly four hundred. Rubbing her eyes on that sleepy thought, she wandered into the bathing chamber and threw cold water on her face before drying off and going to explore the options in the closet.

There were four gowns in various rich shades, three tunic and pants sets, and even a pair of jeans and a shirt. She chose a black pants and tunic set, the stark lines of it offset by the delicate silver pattern painted around the neckline. It reminded her of the color of Naasir’s eyes.

Where was he?

Dressing as that question pounded in her blood, she gathered up her crazy mass of hair—thanks to falling asleep while it was yet damp—and somehow tamed it into a braid, then slipped her feet into a pair of outdoor slippers. There were also boots in the closet in various sizes and she knew she’d be wearing a pair when she and Naasir departed Amanat.

Why wasn’t he here yet?

Leaving her sword in the room—she didn’t think Caliane would be impressed by a visitor who came to pay her respects wearing a blade—she stepped out to look for Isabel. The other woman wasn’t in her home, so Andromeda stopped a passing man to ask for directions to the temple. She used the language she’d heard spoken when Avi showed her to Isabel’s courtyard.

Beaming, the handsome ebony-skinned citizen of Amanat replied in the same tongue, offering to act as her escort to her destination. “Thank you,” she said, “but I’d like to go slowly and fully absorb this wondrous city.”

Cheeks creasing again, he gave her what she needed and she carried on.

The light show of sunset had begun to fade to a paler palette, but there was yet no need for the tall standing lamps that bordered the pathways. When she peered up, she saw that despite the weathered iron that gave the impression of having grown old apace with Amanat, the lights within were electric.

Amanat was clearly being upgraded for this century. Either Caliane was more forward-thinking than Andromeda had believed, or she had a forward-thinking advisor. Andromeda would bet on the latter. It was apt to be Avi’s beloved Jelena. As loyal to Caliane as Avi, Jelena was keenly interested in new inventions and technologies, and had often come to the Library seeking access to manuals.

Carrying on down the path, Andromeda saw a small black puppy, his coat smooth and shiny, running toward her. When he flopped down in front of her as if exhausted, she laughed and picked him up—whereupon he regained his energy and was a wiggling, excited bundle determined to give her wet puppy kisses.

Andromeda held him for some time, his warm body and the fast beat of his heart a reassurance, something familiar in an unfamiliar place. Her childhood may have been unorthodox in ways that had scarred her, but it had also been joyous because of the myriad animals who’d been her refuge, her friends, and her companions. They didn’t lie, didn’t look at her in disappointment for her scholarly inclinations, never made her feel as if she was a mistake.

It was a good thing Andromeda was so clearly her mother’s daughter—it avoided awkward questions about the other side of her bloodline. Andromeda had always wondered if Lailah had chosen Cato in part because he’d permit her to exercise her tendencies without limits. After all, he was exactly the same.

If you were mine, I wouldn’t let you rut with others.

Her face flushed just as the puppy wriggled to be put down. Placing him on the ground, she watched him race away on stubby little legs, but her mind was on a predator with silver eyes.

Naasir was like the animals who’d kept her sane during her otherwise friendless childhood. She didn’t think he’d take the comparison as an insult—not when he had the same honest core. He was far, far better than most “normal” people she’d met in her near–four hundred years of life.

“Andi!”

She jerked up her head at the call to find Isabel waving to her from in front of a set of wide doors that led into the temple carved into the side of a mountain. A number of exhausted-appearing young women flowed out of the temple and toward nearby homes.

Deep orange tunic and pants offset by a green fabric belt tied to the side, a bright pink gi-style top matched with wide-legged white pants, a vivid blue tunic that came to mid-thigh paired with black leggings, those were three of the more conservative outfits.

Biting back a laugh, Andromeda joined Isabel by the doors. “Warrior clothes?”

Affectionate amusement in Isabel’s eyes. “I think they consider anything with pants, or that shows the legs, as scandalous and warrior-like.” Unlike her drooping students, Isabel didn’t appear as if she’d broken so much as a sweat. “Caliane is walking the orange grove at the other end of the city. We’ll fly to her.”

“An orange grove in this climate?” Andromeda said before she realized the shield around Amanat allowed Raphael’s mother to control the temperature within. “Does she ever lower the shield?”

“Not since a maiden was killed by one of Charisemnon’s diseases.” Isabel’s lips flattened into a thin line as Andromeda’s stomach dropped. “He thought to use Kahla as a carrier, but she died before infecting anyone. It broke Caliane’s heart.”

“I’m so sorry,” Andromeda said, nauseated at knowing the murder had been done by a member of her family . . . and terrified what Caliane would do to her for it.

“It wasn’t your doing.” Isabel squeezed her shoulder. “You are as innocent as Kahla.”

Flaring out her wings on those quiet words, Isabel took off.

Andromeda followed, knowing full well that Caliane might not be as forgiving.

Deep in the orange grove, the Ancient wasn’t dressed in one of the flowing gowns in which she was so often depicted in scrolls and illustrated manuscripts. Instead, she wore faded brown leathers similar to Avi’s, her midnight black hair pulled back in a braid much like Andromeda’s.

“Isabel,” Caliane said in greeting when the warrior-angel landed, her voice hauntingly pure. “Are my maidens improving?”

“Like snails, my Lady.”

Caliane’s smile was unexpected and startlingly beautiful, her lips soft pink against skin of pure cream. “You must be patient—they are hothouse flowers suddenly exposed to the wind and the rain.” Her smile faded. “Would that it wasn’t necessary to teach them thus, but the world is changing into a dark place where the innocent are no longer safe.”

Isabel bowed her head slightly in a gesture of respect. “I bring you Andromeda. She is Naasir’s friend, of whom I spoke to you earlier.”

“Ah.” The excruciatingly pure blue of Caliane’s eyes, eyes she’d bequeathed her son, locked with Andromeda’s. “Charisemnon’s grandchild.” Daggers of ice in that voice that could be a beautiful, horrifying weapon. “And yet you show the good taste of escaping from Lijuan to help save Alexander’s life.”

“My Lady.” Not sure what else to do or say, Andromeda bowed deeply—unlike Isabel, she wasn’t a trusted warrior but a much younger guest.

“Is there a reason I shouldn’t execute you this instant for the crime done in my city?”

Blood a roar in her ears, Andromeda dared meet Caliane’s eyes. “If blood alone is what defines us, no child born is born in freedom.”

Caliane’s wings glowed for an endless heartbeat before subsiding. “Well said, fledgling. And do not look so terrified—I am not in the habit of hurting children for the crimes of their elders.” The archangel glanced at Isabel while Andromeda tried to keep from shaking. “Go, Isabel. I know you must do your flight over the city.”

“Lady.” Isabel left with another small incline of her head.

“She watches over my city as diligently as if it is her own,” Caliane said conversationally as she motioned for Andromeda to join her in her walk amongst the rows of trees that made up the grove. “I’ve told my son I will tempt her into staying with me, but he is confident in the loyalty of his people.” A glance at Andromeda. “Your wild friend could not wait to return to Raphael’s side.”

Andromeda took a moment to think. Some older angels could take grave insult at a single wrong word, and she had no desire to end up eviscerated. “Your city is astonishing,” she said, doing nothing to hide her wonder. “For me, it’s like being shown a treasure box.” She could spend weeks just walking the streets of Amanat, listening to the lilt of its people’s voices. “But Naasir is meant for wilder places and less civilized adventures.”

“Like my son.” Caliane’s love for that son was a piercing arrow to the heart. “Raphael collects the wild of heart to him.”

“He is the archangel who is least stuck in time,” Andromeda ventured to say. “Even Michaela, who so often plays to the cameras, keeps a court that works much the same today as it did a hundred years past.”

The pure white of Caliane’s wings seemed to glow even in the muted light; Andromeda was grateful that they no longer glowed in truth, because when an archangel glowed, people generally died.

“He is my son,” Caliane said quietly. “And he is Nadiel’s son. Together, we created a child who will one day fly higher than both of us.”

Having the sense that Caliane was speaking more to herself than to Andromeda, Andromeda kept her silence.

“Now he makes me even prouder by seeking to protect Alexander.” A cold tension in Caliane’s regal features. “I Slept during that time, but Jelena tells me that Alexander once thought to raise an army against Raphael.”

Andromeda took her life into her hands. “Yet he didn’t in the end,” she said. “I think he was tired and he saw Raphael as a young interloper. War was the easy answer to his need to find a reason to go on living in the world. In the end, he showed his wisdom and left the world to the young.”

Caliane pinned Andromeda with eyes aflame with power.

Her throat dried up, her pulse a rabbit in her chest.