Archangel's War (Guild Hunter #12) - Nalini Singh Page 0,42
you can use it in battle.” Raphael rubbed his jaw. “Perhaps you can grow sudden trees in the path of enemy angels. Boom, smack. Truly, it is a power most terrible.”
“I swear, I’m this close to decking you.” But he’d made her relax, want to laugh at herself. “Yeah, fine, growing trees isn’t awful in the scheme of things.” In point of fact, it was pretty neat.
“Would you like to see if you can repeat it?”
Elena grinned. “Yes, let’s go.” She glanced at Suhani, who was starting to come around. “Can you mind-talk one of the healers to come check on her?”
A shake of his head at her softness, but he summoned the healer. The doors opened on the experienced vampire medic just before Suhani rose to full consciousness. “I’m so sorry, Suhani,” Elena said again. “I’ll find you another hundred-year-old bonsai.”
The other woman frowned, blinked, her pupils huge.
“You fainted,” Elena explained. “Raphael put you in the chair so you’d be comfortable.”
Raphael shifted into Suhani’s line of sight. “It pleases me that you are not hurt.”
Huge eyes before they rolled back in her head and she passed out again. Elena groaned. “That was not funny. The poor woman is in total awe of you.”
“As she should be.” A squeeze of her nape. “Suhani is a mid-level vampire who cannot afford to feel anything but fear and awe for angelkind. Bloodlust lies just beneath her skin.”
Elena found it difficult to see prim and proper Suhani as consumed by bloodlust, but she knew the compulsion existed in all vampires. The old and disciplined ones like Dmitri had long ago gotten it under control, but even Dmitri wouldn’t deny its existence. “What’s going to happen to Honor? Ashwini?” Former hunters and young vampires both. “Are they at risk?”
“Honor has a near-preternatural calm within her. Keir has commented on it—as if she is much older than her years.”
“I know what he means.” Elena always felt calmer and more centered around Honor, her presence a deep, content pool.
“As for Ashwini, she walks to her own beat, and none of us can predict her development—but she is a hunter, with the attendant discipline.” The two of them stepped out into the misty rain. Putting one arm around her, Raphael flew them up onto the upper entrance of the Legion building.
Elena! Aeclari! Raphael! Aeclari!
The voices were a storm that rapidly contained itself into a rumbling murmur. Despite her recent visit, she sighed anew at the beauty inside the humid warmth of the Legion’s home. Flowers bloomed out of season, vines crawled up the walls, grass grew underfoot. And when they asked for the seedling of a tree, the Primary urged them to follow him to the ground floor.
Elena couldn’t resist burying her nose in the crook of Raphael’s neck as he took them down, her lips tasting his skin. His eyes flamed blue fire at her when their feet hit the ground.
Tree children. The Primary waved to an entire row of potted plants. For you. We made for your new house of glass. Two are trees.
Elena’s throat got thick. “The mandarin orange,” she said, her voice husky. “Archangel, can you place it in a clear area?”
Raphael soon had the pot positioned, while the Primary looked on silently. Up above, hundreds more faces were turned their way. It should’ve been eerie to glance up and see all those gray faces looking down, bat wings held in silence, but she couldn’t be frightened of the Legion, especially when they whispered excitedly in her head.
Show us, Ellie. What is this? Show us.
“Not sure there’ll be anything to see,” she muttered. “I have no idea how I did this the first time.”
“Consider your thoughts then, and try to repeat them.”
Elena frowned. “I was just admiring the bonsai, thinking how wonderful it was.” As wonderful as this gift to help her repopulate her greenhouse. She stroked the glossy leaves, admiration and joy in the contact.
Nothing happened.
Disappointment gnawed at her, the wound surprisingly brutal. I feel like a child throwing a tantrum, but I needed this more than I knew. Just one thing to balance out having lost my wings. A stone in her gut, she petted the tree’s leaves. “Not your fault.”
The roots of the plant erupted out of the sides of the pot, spraying her with dirt. She scrambled back and out of the way before getting to her feet. The tree grew. Tiny white flowers bloomed on the branches, formed into mandarin oranges, turned plump and ripe.