“Really? You don’t think that’s excessive? It could be a small room. Just with lots of wall space.” A sudden frown. “Were you making fun of me?”

“A little, but now I will build you the best knife display room you’ve ever seen.”

Elena’s lips twitched. “Don’t forget the spot for my crossbow.”

“It will have a podium of its own with a dedicated spotlight.”

“As it should.” Feet bare and grin wide, she stood on his booted feet. “Talking about blades makes me hot.”

“Any more sharp objects on you today?” he murmured against her ear.

“You’re safe.” Her mouth was wet and soft on his chest, her tongue licking him up in tender flicks.

His blood felt so cold at times these days, but never when he was with her.

Hand pressed against his heart, she threatened a playful bite . . . then paused, her head cocked slightly and tiny lines flaring out at the corners of her eyes. “Put your finger on the pulse in my neck.”

“I have never partaken of this deviant sexual act.”

“Funny man. Fingers, neck.”

When he obeyed, she said, “Listen. To your pulse and mine.”

As with most living beings, Raphael wasn’t aware of his pulse in the course of normal day-to-day life. It took him a second to tune in to the sensation. “Our hearts are beating in time.” In perfect synchronicity.

“It can’t happen all the time, or we’d be constantly out of tune with our surroundings.” A kiss pressed to his skin. “Must be a resting-state effect. I like it.” The eyes that lifted to meet his were liquid silver, haunting and immortal.

But her kiss . . . it was Elena. Mortal, courageous, untamed.

She would not be taken by the Cascade, would not be broken. Raphael wasn’t so certain about himself. Because the frigid cold of his new power, it was seeping deeper and deeper into his cells with each day that passed. The more he owned it, the more it became a part of him . . . and the more he had to fight to be Elena’s Raphael.

Yet without that power, he could not make enough wildfire to defeat Lijuan.

For she would rise into her reign of death.

Cassandra had foreseen it. And Cassandra was never wrong.

26

They flew first to Amanat, their plan to rest the night, then head to China in the morning. Because Elena needed to conserve energy, after the Tower jet landed at a major airport in Kagoshima, she got into a helicopter for the rest of the journey to Amanat, while Raphael rode the wind.

The sunlight danced off the fire of her archangel’s wings as they moved over Kagoshima’s green and mountainous landscape. He was far enough not to be affected by the chopper’s blades, close enough to respond should the craft suffer technical difficulties. It didn’t matter how often she saw him fly, she felt the same sense of possessive awe—he was hers and he was magnificent.

“Does it burn?”

Startled, she glanced at the pilot, not sure she’d heard him correctly through the headphones. One of Caliane’s people who’d returned to her after his lady rose again, he’d told Elena he’d spent years flying commercial jetliners before switching to helicopters. His skin was as deep a hue as finest dark chocolate and as smooth as silk.

He was old, this one. Old enough that vampirism had begun to refine his features into a kind of ethereal beauty that no mortal would ever possess. The odd thing was, Dmitri was older, but he remained as hard-edged as always. So could be, the change wasn’t inevitable. Maybe, each vampire subconsciously influenced the shape of their features.

Dmitri, of course, would always want to look like a hard-ass.

“Burn?” she asked, as a family of wild horses raced the shadow of the chopper on the ground.

“The fire on Archangel Raphael’s wings.”

“No.” That was no secret. Little Seth had touched Raphael’s wings, the sight caught on camera by a resident in a nearby building. He’d no doubt find himself the focus of childish curiosity in Amanat, too.

Caliane’s beloved home was no longer a Sleeping city, and its people had begun to have children. The first born would be toddlers by now. Maidens become maids often carried a child propped on their hips, while warriors and others flew babies into the sky to soothe them when they wouldn’t stop crying.

Most of the children were born of mortals or young vampires, but two angels had also recently given birth. As far as Elena was aware, Amanat was the only place outside of the Refuge where you could see angelic children. And that was because it was a closed city. The only people who could penetrate its shield were those welcomed by Caliane.

Raphael’s eyes met hers across the distance that separated them and he pointed down. When she followed his gaze, she found the local band of monkeys waving and hollering up at them from their perches in the forest outside of Amanat. Laughing, she waved in return; she was certain the band recognized her and Raphael.

The cheeky creatures hooted and clapped and no doubt made a racket.

And there, in the distance, was the shimmering shield that encased the jewel of Amanat. It glowed a pink-tinged blue in the soft pre-sunset light, eerie and beautiful. Looking at that symbol of enormous power, Elena was hit by the realization that Caliane could do it all over again—simply disappear into Sleep, taking her people with her.

The chopper began to descend, the landing site within walking distance of Amanat but not so close that the noise would breach the city’s peace.

“Thanks,” Elena said after they were on the ground. “You coming into Amanat with us?”

A slight widening of the pilot’s eyes before he inclined his head and body as much as his harness would allow. “I would be honored to walk together with an archangel and his consort but I will be doing a return trip. Here is my passenger now.”

Walking toward where Raphael had landed was a woman with brunette curls and pearlescent skin. Vampire. No human had skin like that. “She’s definitely not one of Caliane’s maidens.” No filmy gowns or pretty dresses for this woman. She was clad in a razor-sharp black skirt suit paired with spiked red heels, a smartphone to her ear, but the real difference was in the sense of danger that clung to her.

Another old one. Older than Dmitri. So old that she made Elena’s teeth ache.

“It was before my time,” the pilot said, “but legend is that Celesta did enter Caliane’s court as a maiden. Our wise lady soon realized she did not have the temperament for it. She is far better utilized as a huntress.”

“I’m guessing she stayed outside Amanat while the city Slept.”

“Lady Caliane sent Celesta on a hunt before she took the rest of our people into Sleep.” His jaw worked. “She sent me away, too. She has said that we are strong and she knew we would survive without her—I am glad to have grown and come to her with skills needed for this new world, but I would not have her leave me behind again.”

Such devotion . . . it wasn’t so different from what Lijuan’s people felt for her. Elena’s skin prickled. Not at the pilot’s loyalty, at her renewed awareness of how hostile China remained to anyone who would stand against their goddess—even when their goddess made shambling reborn who fed on flesh.

That cold thought chilling her blood, Elena saluted the pilot before she jumped out with her head lowered and ran to join Raphael. Celesta had stopped beside him, was bowing deeply. There was nothing obsequious about it; Caliane’s huntress managed to infuse the act with respect without making herself appear weak.

Spice hit Elena’s nostrils, hints of cinnamon entwined with bark, earthy and hard. Celesta’s scent was shockingly intense, mature in a way that coated the back of Elena’s throat. Archangel, you have any idea of her age?

When I was a boy, Celesta told me stories of my mother’s first court. Out loud, he said, “Why are you bowing to me, Celesta? I distinctly recall you throwing me into a pond to cool down after I indulged in a childish tantrum.”

The huntress’s lips twitched. “It has been many years. I thought perhaps, the archangel you have become would not remember the highly unsuitable babysitter who sometimes watched over you.”

“You are not a woman anyone forgets.” Raphael gripped Celesta’s forearm in the way he did with his warriors.

Smile deepening, the vampire moved into Raphael’s embrace. “Consort,” she said afterward, with another bow. “I welcome you and Raphael to Amanat. My lady awaits.”

“Good hunting.” Elena inclined her head in a way Jessamy had taught her indicated deep respect; she knew that unlike Raphael, she couldn’t simply tell this deadly woman not to bow to her—with an immortal this old, it could be counted as an insult. Better she respond in a way that meant something to Celesta.

Stupid angelic etiquette.

Celesta’s responding smile seemed genuine. “I am presumptuous, but it pleases me that the wild little boy I taught to string his first bow has a fellow hunter for a consort,” she said before continuing on to the chopper.

“Why haven’t I met her before?” The earthy darkness of Celesta’s scent clung to the air.

“My mother’s favorite assassin and fixer—I believe that is the mortal’s term—has been in Charisemnon’s court until a half year past.”

Elena’s respect for the other woman took a nosedive. “Oh.”

“Celesta knew her lady would need spies in the most terrible places when she woke.” Raphael tugged on a strand of Elena’s hair. “Why do you think she waited so long to return home?”

The respect blazed again—at twice its original strength. “It’s official. I have a girl crush.” Her eyes turned to the chopper as it lifted off. “She’s got balls of steel if she embedded herself in that den and stayed.” Charisemnon had caused the Falling, killing five of New York’s angels. Not content with that, he’d created a virus that infected and killed vampires.

Raphael’s wings stirred in a susurration of sound. “If you are good, I will tell you bedtime stories of Celesta the Knife.”