Archangel's War (Guild Hunter #12) - Nalini Singh Page 0,138
been a miscalculation,” Ashwini said, a throwing star held absently in one hand. “Might be his ability kills him this time—not directly, but by weakening his body in ways that aren’t visible on the surface. If I were Cadre, I wouldn’t want to battle Titus at less than full strength.”
“That just your hope, cher,” Janvier drawled, “or will our dreams come true and Charisemnon will rot from within?”
Secreting away the throwing star, Ashwini made a face. “I can’t tell.”
Izak stood silent and awed next to them.
“Even if Charisemnon dies,” Raphael said, “the damage is done. He and Lijuan have created a plague upon immortals.”
Elena’s head snapped up and he knew she’d made the connection to the story the Legion told of the Cascade of Terror. An archangel had created a plague back then as well. As a result, a poisoned angelkind had chosen to Sleep in the hope they could wait out the poison—and woken to find a new people had been born in their absence. A people who held their salvation.
The toxin created back then still lived in the cells of each and every angel and archangel. Only by purging it into humankind at certain intervals could they stop from turning into bloodborn monsters. Vampires were the accidental byproduct of that purging.
“Sire.” Jason’s quiet but potent tone. “I’ve just watched a small part of the battle on Vivek’s device.” He passed the tablet back to the vampire. “It appears that each squadron of reborn fighters is led by a living fighter.”
“What happens if you kill that leader?” Illium muttered. “Are they connected to him somehow? Is he—or she—the source of their martial skills?”
“Possible.” As possible was the fact they might’ve all been imprinted from the same source—Xi was a skilled warrior and he’d have no compunction in opening himself up to his goddess. “Regardless, brief all squadrons to try and take out the leader.” If nothing else, it’d confuse the group. “Warn your people to avoid being bitten by the other side at all costs, on the ground or in the sky. If that means a broken leg or a gunshot wound, take it.”
Everyone nodded.
“I’ll warn the healers to use biohazard protocols on any bite victims.” Vivek slipped away to make the call.
“We’ve got ordinary reborn on the ground.” This from Dmitri, who’d stepped away for a moment, one finger pressed to his ear. “One of my reconnaissance team’s sighted them shuffling around a surviving container.”
“City firelines are ready,” Janvier said. “Ashwini and I took our teams out, checked them one last time before all hell broke loose. Give the word and the flames go up at the same time the ground opens up.”
To destroy his own city was a decision no archangel took lightly, but Raphael had authorized this destruction to save the rest of his territory. They’d lose two skyscrapers, badly damage part of the port area, but the destruction would make it near impossible for the reborn on the ground to get through to their side.
Lijuan’s troops would no doubt retaliate by flying the reborn across, but it’d be a far slower invasion than hordes of infected flowing into the streets of Manhattan. “If I’m in battle, Dmitri makes the call.”
Dmitri gave a curt nod, but he still had a finger to his ear, his concentration intense. “Lijuan’s troops are dumping their wounded in a big pile,” he said before breaking off.
Three seconds later: “V, pull up the feeds from quadrant eight.”
Having completed his call to the healers, Vivek reacted at once.
Sixteen different live cameras filled the screen. “Full screen on camera seven.” Dmitri pointed to the feed on the far left.
Piles of squirming and screaming bodies, one on top of the other.
Angels with their wings half burned, or hacked off.
The broken but live bodies of ground fighters who’d survived the container Izak had sent plummeting to the ground.
The mass of burned and healthy flesh, the squirming, the destroyed wings, it made a dark, angry heat crawl over Raphael’s skin. He’d seen many terrible things in battle, but never this kind of callousness from a leader toward their own troops.
“All of them are damaged.” Aodhan’s quiet voice held nothing but calm, but Illium shifted to stand with his wing brushing the other angel’s. “There is no one whole on that pile. No one who will heal quickly.”
Dmitri asked a question into the mike on his lapel, received an answer. “Aodhan’s right—they’re taking the wounded with functional wings and limbs to another area.”