Archangel's War (Guild Hunter #12) - Nalini Singh Page 0,57
twitched. “It has been many years. I thought perhaps, the archangel you have become would not remember the highly unsuitable babysitter who sometimes watched over you.”
“You are not a woman anyone forgets.” Raphael gripped Celesta’s forearm in the way he did with his warriors.
Smile deepening, the vampire moved into Raphael’s embrace. “Consort,” she said afterward, with another bow. “I welcome you and Raphael to Amanat. My lady awaits.”
“Good hunting.” Elena inclined her head in a way Jessamy had taught her indicated deep respect; she knew that unlike Raphael, she couldn’t simply tell this deadly woman not to bow to her—with an immortal this old, it could be counted as an insult. Better she respond in a way that meant something to Celesta.
Stupid angelic etiquette.
Celesta’s responding smile seemed genuine. “I am presumptuous, but it pleases me that the wild little boy I taught to string his first bow has a fellow hunter for a consort,” she said before continuing on to the chopper.
“Why haven’t I met her before?” The earthy darkness of Celesta’s scent clung to the air.
“My mother’s favorite assassin and fixer—I believe that is the mortal’s term—has been in Charisemnon’s court until a half year past.”
Elena’s respect for the other woman took a nosedive. “Oh.”
“Celesta knew her lady would need spies in the most terrible places when she woke.” Raphael tugged on a strand of Elena’s hair. “Why do you think she waited so long to return home?”
The respect blazed again—at twice its original strength. “It’s official. I have a girl crush.” Her eyes turned to the chopper as it lifted off. “She’s got balls of steel if she embedded herself in that den and stayed.” Charisemnon had caused the Falling, killing five of New York’s angels. Not content with that, he’d created a virus that infected and killed vampires.
Raphael’s wings stirred in a susurration of sound. “If you are good, I will tell you bedtime stories of Celesta the Knife.”
As Elena laughed, a voice older than Celesta’s entered his mind. Come home, my son. The hope in it was a painful thing, for he would never again think of Amanat as home. The last link that tied him to his mother’s beloved city had broken as he lay bleeding on a forgotten field far from civilization while his mother walked away, her feet light on the grass speckled with his blood.
We are on our way, he said in response, because as his hunter had pointed out more than once, Caliane was trying. She’d come back sane. And she’d been staunch in her support of Raphael since then.
He knew his consort’s response to Caliane was colored by her own deep grief. Her mother could never come back, could never try to make it up to her. And so his tough consort was far softer on Caliane than Raphael would ever be—he remembered the pain too well, remembered Caliane’s madness as hundreds upon hundreds of tiny graves.
He’d helped dig those graves.
Days spent on a task no angel ever wanted to do, for children were a gift.
Instead of rising into the sky with Elena, he took her hand, and they walked through the waving grasses that separated the landing area from Amanat.
Elena ran the fingers of her free hand across the tips of the grasses. “There’s such beauty here,” she murmured. “Sometimes, I think Caliane has the right of it—just put a bubble around our city and dare anyone to try and get through.”
But she was shaking her head even as she spoke. “Except what about the rest of our people, those scattered across the territory and the world? How could she have left so many behind? Was it because of her madness?”
This, too, was true—that while Elena was soft on Caliane, she saw his mother’s flaws. “I worry, Guild Hunter,” he murmured. “About the madness that took my mother and my father. It is in my blood.” Indelibly a part of him. “There are indications it may be brought to life by the surge in power during a Cascade.”
“Don’t worry, Archangel. I’ll shoot you between the eyes if you show signs of impending psychotic delusions.” The near-white canvas of Elena’s hair was licked with orange-red as the setting sun caressed her, her eyes liquid silver that burned. “Then I’ll drag you to Keir. If he can’t help, you’ll be putting us both into Sleep. I’ll figure out a way to make you.”
“I am most assured.” Lifting their linked hands, he kissed her knuckles, while behind him his wings trailed over