Aodhan had said quietly a century earlier. “Your eyes might be of a viper, but you have the heart of a lion. You demand the world bow to you. I wish I had your courage, Venom.”
As Illium’s blood hit his bloodstream, Venom felt his veins pulse and hoped Aodhan was finding his own lion’s heart in Lumia, where the angel had accompanied Raphael and Elena for the meeting of the Cadre. That lion’s heart had always been there; Aodhan was a warrior through and through. He’d lost his faith in himself after an act of horror that nearly ended his light—but that faith, it was coming back. And an Aodhan Venom had only ever glimpsed was emerging.
“Thanks,” he said, lifting his head from Illium’s wrist after about ten seconds. “Janvier told me Elena’s company is doing flavored premium blood now.” It always struck him as hysterical that the Guild Hunter had fallen into a business that catered to a strictly vampiric clientele.
“It’s one of the hot new businesses in Manhattan, according to Immortal Insider magazine.” Illium ran his fingers through his hair, the blue-tipped black strands falling back in place around his face afterward. “You should go visit one of their blood cafés,” he said with a straight face belied by the amusement in his eyes. “It’ll give the business a big publicity boost among the fashionable crowd.”
Venom snorted, not about to become a poster boy for flavored blood. What the fuck?
“I think our guest is fully compos mentis.” Dmitri rose to his feet.
So did Venom, while Illium continued to hover just off the edge in a casual display of brutal strength. They gave Kenasha the courtesy of allowing him to get to his feet, though it was a dubious courtesy at best, since the angel looked scared stiff of the precipitous drop mere feet away. And that was beyond pitiful. As an angel, the other man should’ve been far more comfortable here than either Venom or Dmitri.
Then again, his wings appeared even more useless now that he was standing. The muscles and tendons drooped, like those of a marionette with its strings cut. “Are you sure you’re not sick?” Venom asked, concerned for Illium and the other Tower angels.
“If I am, it’s because of Daisy’s blood,” Kenasha whined. “She did something to me.”
“Are any of your angelic friends displaying similarly wasted wings?”
Kenasha paled under the midnight cold of Dmitri’s voice, a trembling figure framed by the lights of a city that didn’t know the meaning of sleep. “No. I didn’t tell any of them about her blood. I’m the only one who drank from her.” He ran shaky hands down his front in a futile effort to smooth the wrinkles in the bruise-colored velvet of his ornate topcoat. It was embellished with two strips of yellow brocade and frog closures.
Venom wondered what Holly would think of Kenasha’s sartorial choice.
Dmitri made fleeting eye contact with Venom, passing the baton, since Venom knew more about the situation. The problem was that Kenasha couldn’t meet Venom’s eyes—his terror of Venom’s gaze was worse than the general fear that clung to him and stunk up the air. No matter. It wasn’t like the angel could lie his way out of this, not with Venom, Dmitri, and Illium all focused on his quivering face.
“Tell us exactly how you found Daisy.”
19
Kenasha repeated the story of rescuing Daisy from the Hudson. “After I realized she wasn’t a corpse, I thought I’d be a hero,” he whispered. “Like the other people who helped during the Falling. I thought if she was important, I’d be able to tell everyone I’d rescued her.”
Venom wanted to slap the self-obsessed prick. “What did she tell you about how she ended up in the river?”
Kenasha shifted his feet. And Dmitri spoke with silken menace. “It seems you’d prefer to have this conversation with the sire.”
The angel looked so horrified at the idea that it was comical. Venom could actually feel Dmitri’s grim amusement. There weren’t many people who wanted to come face to face with the Archangel of New York. Venom had never understood that—he knew Raphael burned with power, but he wasn’t capricious or cruel without reason.
Yes, he ruled with a steel hand. However, that hand didn’t get involved in the petty business of people’s lives.
“No, no.” Kenasha tugged at the white ruffles poking out of the top of his coat; it was a miracle he didn’t choke in the froth. “Daisy said she was attacked by an angel who picked