The first was one Raphael had already made: to begin the battle on their terms, not Lijuan’s. “The tiredness of our troops is no longer a handicap. Not when we have all of you.” He looked around the table, his hands braced on the side and his wings held neatly to his back. “Even the sheer numbers at her disposal can’t outweigh the power of ten archangels, four of them Ancients.”
His next words were cold with power, demanding attention. “If there is a risk that you will be taken by the enemy and rescue is unlikely, do what must be done. We cannot know how strong she’ll become if she feeds on an archangel.”
Aegaeon banged his fist on the table, scattering the markers they’d just laid out as they discussed the battle plan. “You truly believe she would dare cross that line?”
“She turned children into infected vampires,” Neha spit out. “There is no line she will not cross.”
No one had anything to say to that.
“Two hours until we strike.” Raphael pushed off the table, rose to his full height. “Prepare for battle.”
70
Titus was glorious to watch. The Archangel of Southern Africa had planted his booted feet on the ground on this side of the front, his wings spread wide and his golden breastplate gleaming even in the dull morning light that got through the snow-heavy clouds. The equally gold “tattoo” that had formed on his skin was visible only in glimpses on his thickly muscled shoulders and equally impressive biceps.
His roughly hewn and square-jawed face was set in a glower that dared the other side to shoot anything at him.
The man was beautiful—and also a little arrogant, Elena thought with a grin. She was on a nearby rooftop, her crossbow pointed at one of those on the other side who might try to take out Titus’s wings. She fired just as she saw a hand go to press the trigger. More crossbows and guns fired all around her.
A roar of sound, Titus’s growl rising to the skies as he lifted up both his uninjured arm and his splinted one. And rained down hell.
The road lifted up under the feet of the enemy, cracking and rippling as if it was a river. Buildings shook hard. Glass that had survived the earlier detonations shattered. The quake seemed to go on forever, sending angels into the sky—butterflies disturbed from a tree. Dust blurred the landscape, floating up to further dull the turgid gray skies.
Ice, hard and biting, sleeted from the clouds at that very instant, pounding at the angels who’d taken off. Neha couldn’t totally control the area hit, so their side also got a dose of frigid cold, but they were prepared for it. Clothing, gloves, cap, Elena was dressed for the heart of winter.
Howling mini-tornados whacked into the angels on the other side on the heels of the ice, taking them down like dominos. Zanaya was not playing.
Neither was Alexander: every bit of metal on the ground on the enemy side began to liquefy even as the angels fell. Alexander couldn’t affect things that weren’t touching the ground—so the weapons held by fighters would survive, as would any that were stored in buildings or crates that protected them from direct contact with the earth.
But Alexander wasn’t targeting the weapons anyway.
At first, all Elena saw was a fire hydrant that melted, spraying water everywhere . . . but then the buildings that were still standing began to shake, as the metal rods within started to quiver and fail.
Ground fighters looked up at those precariously swaying buildings, their eyes huge.
Waves rose from the water on the other side, smashing into the shore and washing away vampires and reborn and fallen angels before the waves sucked back out with unbeatable force, taking anyone on the ground out to sea. Astaad and Aegaeon had to be careful how far they pushed things, because too much water and it’d wash away their own side, but the two seemed to have calculated it just right.
They’d had Caliane standing by to create a shield to protect their own, but it wasn’t needed. Michaela had been told to stay back, keep her power in reserve for a direct strike against Lijuan, while Elijah hung to the far back, his job to protect their flank until Lijuan was sighted—in case the Archangel of China decided to pull another noncorporeal ambush.
Raphael waited for Lijuan.
As with all archangelic powers, the Cadre couldn’t keep this up endlessly, but when the ground stopped shaking and the rain and ice stopped, and the tornados halted, the seas retreating, Lijuan’s forces were in disarray. Buildings had collapsed into melted shapes straight out of a Salvador Dali painting. Roads no longer existed.
A massive chunk of the ground troops had disappeared into the ocean, as had large numbers of angels who’d been battered to the ground. Yet their sheer numbers meant a vast army remained.
They fought back with devoted fury.
Lijuan’s surviving generals shot waves of obsidian fire, each one aiming themself at an archangel. After having injured Elijah, they knew they could disable the Cadre; take out enough archangels and New York lost any advantage it had in launching the attack now, before Lijuan was ready.
Raphael had planned to seed the sky with wildfire to try to unmask her, but live battle had a way of interfering with strategic plans; too many of their own fighters fought at too many different elevations in the sky. Elena sent up a prayer to any actual gods that Lijuan hadn’t fed enough to go noncorporeal.
Her prayers went unheard.
Elena had just shot out the wings of an enemy angel who was trying to hack at Aodhan’s wings when Lijuan appeared without warning behind Zanaya. It also put the Archangel of China at the farthest point from Raphael. Archangel!
Even as he reacted to make it to that location, Lijuan grabbed Zanaya by the upper arms and bit down on her neck. Zanaya twisted with a snarl, attempting to reach for her sword and kicking back with her feet as mini-tornados appeared around Lijuan . . . but then her body seemed to slow down, her reactions stiffen.
The tornados faded.
Lijuan was sucking the life out of an Ancient and doing it at vicious speed.
Elena willed her body to go there, help Zanaya, but the speed still didn’t work with archangels.
Though Raphael arrived at the location of the attack in a matter of seconds, his wings pure white fire, Lijuan turned noncorporeal again before he could hit her with wildfire . . . and Zanaya fell from the sky, her wings crumpled and her body far smaller than it should’ve been. Alexander caught her partway, cradling her close as he flew her toward the Tower.
Elena’s heart pounded. Archangel, how do we find her? She could be at any elevation, at any location. Always before, she’d had a single target. Now she had many. Raphael couldn’t spread his wildfire that wide without wasting the one weapon that might halt the Queen of Death.
Wildfire ringed his hands. I must remain within equal distance of as many of the Cadre as I can.
Lijuan appeared beside Alexander.
Raphael threw wildfire in her direction without a single hesitation. It hit, crackling energy through her system, but she went noncorporeal a heartbeat later. And Raphael realized that feeding on Zanaya had done what they feared; it had supercharged her.
Thank you for bringing me so much POWER! Laughter in Lijuan’s mental voice, a kind of girlish delight that was disturbing in its facsimile of innocence.
She appeared behind Neha this time, but Galen—nearby—bought the Archangel of India a moment to react by slicing his broadsword down toward Lijuan’s neck. She flicked him away and the heavily built weapons-master smashed into a building, but that minor delay gave Neha a critical second to turn. She struck out with the curved edge of one kukri blade, managed a deep slice across Lijuan’s cheek.
A flap of skin and flesh slapped against her jaw, a wet red hole where her cheek should be. Blood splurted out . . . then vanished. The wound had closed by the time Raphael threw wildfire in her direction. She laughed and was gone before the wildfire hit her, and the bolt exploded into a knot of fighters, taking out several from both sides.
Raphael’s rage was a cold thing with a heart of fire. This was always her endgame.
Perhaps she’d intended to “absorb” the Cadre one by one, but they’d served themselves to her on a platter. She didn’t have to consider anything else beyond her urge to feed. She certainly didn’t care that her troops were dying under waves of archangelic power. She would have more people once she owned the world. Mortals, vampires, angels, all were disposable to her. Galen? Are you down?
Few broken bones but not enough to take me out of the battle. Go toward Astaad. He’s the most vulnerable right now.
Astaad was fighting alone against three of Lijuan’s generals. It looked like he’d taken a hit of obsidian rain on his right forearm. The arm dragged, numbed and possibly eaten away with infection, but he continued to do battle, taking out one general as Raphael flew toward him. This time when Lijuan reappeared, Raphael was close enough to hit her, but though her face contorted at the wildfire strike, the skeletal understructure glowing into focus, she was still able to go noncorporeal.
She didn’t appear again for five long minutes, giving neither him nor Galen any way to predict her actions. When she did, it was behind Astaad once more. He had Michaela by him, but though she reacted rapidly, her bronze lightning smashing into Lijuan’s shoulder, Lijuan dragged Astaad close . . . and both disappeared.
Raphael, fuck.
Yes, Guild Hunter. We are in trouble.
Both archangels reappeared in the sky moments later, not far from where she’d first taken Astaad.
The Archangel of the Pacific Isles was fighting, but she had her face buried in his neck and already, Astaad looked emaciated, his wings limp. You are all NOTHING but fodder for a goddess. Watch me feed. Know me as your superior!
Raphael released a ball of wildfire. My apologies, my friend, he said to Astaad, who was in the direct line of fire.
The other archangel’s face eased, as if in gratitude.
The wildfire hit them both. Screaming, Lijuan released Astaad. She went noncorporeal again as Astaad’s body fell, riven with wildfire. No one was close enough to catch him. The Archangel of the Pacific Isles crashed to lie broken on a rooftop. Jason landed beside him a second later. He’s alive, Raphael’s spymaster reported. His body has lost nearly all its flesh, but his eyes are lucid.