It had made Majda cry again. “Sana Alayna,” she’d whispered. “That is the name I used in Paris—most people who knew me called me Alayna. To a child, it must’ve sounded very much like Elena.”

Now, Elena forced herself to stop watching the sky for her archangel, knowing it was far too early to see him, and walked to join her grandmother. Like most beings without wings, Majda didn’t like to come out onto these railingless balconies where, when the wind was high, it could shove you right off if you weren’t careful. “I want you to meet someone, Majda.”

The beautiful woman with hair just a shade more golden than Elena’s reached out to touch her fingers to Elena’s cheek. “I am your grandmother, child.”

“I know.” Elena gave her a wry smile. “But you look my age. I’m having difficulty getting my head around that.” She wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to address Majda by anything but her name.

Majda’s expression altered, became layered with myriad emotions. “My parents didn’t want me to marry Jean-Baptiste,” she told Elena as they walked down the hallway. “He was young for a vampire but he was still a vampire. They knew of a woman in a neighboring town who’d been abandoned by her vampire husband after she began to turn gray.”

“Unfortunately, that still happens.” It was what Elena had worried most about when it came to her sister, Beth, but Bethie had gained an unexpected internal strength with the birth of her daughter. Elena didn’t think this new, fiercely protective Beth would break even if Harrison pulled a disappearing act. Not that Beth’s vampire husband seemed in any danger of ever doing that—he was terrified of losing her to time, regret in his every action.

Harrison had become a vampire first even though he and Beth had agreed that they’d wait until both of them were accepted. He’d been impatient, cocky. And he would pay for it through eternity. Because Elena’s baby sister could never become a vampire—her body would reject the change in a gruesome, painful manner. Elena would one day have to watch her baby sister close her eyes forever, Beth’s body no longer able to hold on to life.

It hurt to think about.

“Yet you married Jean-Baptiste anyway,” she said to her mother’s mother.

“I love him, have loved him from the instant we first bumped into each other in the marketplace.” Majda spread her hand over her heart. “It felt as if I’d found a missing part of my soul.”

“Did you plan to apply to become a vampire?”

A nod. “But we had no expectation that I’d be accepted—Jean-Baptiste was a young vampire himself, hadn’t earned the right to ask the favor of a powerful angel.” Majda touched her hand to Elena’s wing, a wondering light in her eyes. “And to think we now have an angel in the family.”

“More than one,” Elena pointed out. “You also have Raphael and Caliane.”

Gentle laughter as Majda dropped her hand, but the sadness, it never faded. “We married with the knowledge that I would leave him after a mortal lifetime—I was overjoyed that I would never have to worry about his death. For my husband . . . it was hard.”

“It is hard,” Elena said, thinking of Sara, of Beth, of Zoe, of Maggie, of Deacon, of Ransom . . . So many strong, unique lives that would one day no longer exist. “But my friend, Sara, she pointed out that immortals live dangerous lives. Knowing I could actually die before her helps me deal.”

Majda gave her a considering look before her lips kicked up. “Of course, you are right.” She shook her head. “My parents are gone, but it’s not as if Jean-Baptiste and I have had an easy life for the past six decades.” The dry way she said that told Elena a hell of a lot about her grandmother’s strength.

“When did Gian become obsessed with you?” she asked, having the feeling her grandmother could talk about this today.

“He tried to court me a month after my wedding.” Majda hugged her arms around herself, running her hands up and down her arms. “At first, I was kind. I thought he simply didn’t realize that I was married, so I told him I was a new bride and that I honored my husband.” An exhale. “I added that last because there are women who do not honor their husbands when angels invite them to their beds.”

“Angel groupies.”

“Yes, is this what you call them? We used to call them angel-drunk.” Majda got into the elevator with her, and Elena pushed the button to take them to the ground floor. It was a floor she rarely visited now that she had wings—but today, she wouldn’t be flying across the sky.

“Of course,” Majda added, “it wasn’t only women who could become drunk on the angels, though we did not talk about that in my time.”

“I’m guessing Gian didn’t stop his efforts to win you?”

“No, he did,” Majda said to her surprise, “and I thought that he was one of the better angels from that place.” A twist to her mouth. “Then Jean-Baptiste came home in a fury one day. Gian had called him into his office and offered him money if he would surrender his rights to me.” Her body shook. “As if I was a thing to be bought and sold.”

“Bastard.” The deep, dark hole where Raphael had dropped Gian wasn’t a harsh enough punishment as far as Elena was concerned. Maybe rats would get into that hole, start feasting on him. At least he couldn’t use his powers to escape. Anything he blasted would just fall on top of him, crushing him to a pulp. Of course, they weren’t leaving that to chance. Illium had helped bug the hole with cameras and microphones so the Tower could monitor it, make certain Gian didn’t find a way out.