Archangel's War (Guild Hunter #12) - Nalini Singh Page 0,99

only one power.”

He gestured to the frozen image of a blanked-out China. “A being who can do this, who can hide a landscape as vast as China, is no longer an archangel. She is beyond that, and we will need all our strength to defeat her should she prove a threat.”

“What do you mean, prove a threat!” Charisemnon brought his fist down on the ornate table in front of him, veins pulsing at his temples and splotches of red on his neck. “Do you not see what she is doing?”

“She is the goddess of her own territory,” Neha reminded him, her tone frigid. “As long as she remains in that territory, we cannot and will not touch her.”

“To do so would be to breach the laws that keep peace in the world,” Astaad said. “We do not interfere in territory that belongs to another.”

Elijah looked to Neha. “Do you have any further news of China?”

“Death.” Neha’s answer rang in the silence. “Anything that flies into that fog dies.” The jeweled green viper on her shoulder twined itself sinuously around her upper arm. Touching her fingers to its triangular-shaped head, she said, “We did not have to sacrifice any creatures—Lady Caliane and I both witnessed disoriented animals wander in and die.”

“This is so.” His mother’s voice was somber. “Thus, the talk of making war on Lijuan is moot for the moment. We cannot enter that dark fog.”

“We are archangels!” Antonicus pushed out his chest, his wings spread. “We cannot be brought down by fog. What feebleness has permeated the Cadre that you act akin to scared prey?”

“Raphael.” A tic in Neha’s jaw, her gaze hard as stone. “Do you have any recordings of what occurred in your territory when Lijuan made war on you? I do not think our awakened brethren will believe us until we show them evidence of—”

“This is foolishness!” Antonicus’s wings glowed. “I do not need to see more of your moving images. I will end this once and for all. I am going to China.”

“You have no invitation,” Caliane reminded him with commendable calm. “Entering another archangel’s territory without permission is a breach of protocol.”

“Once I find this Lijuan, I will make my apologies.” He unsheathed his sword. “And if she is a threat, I will neutralize her.”

Raphael and the others of the current Cadre attempted to talk the egotistical Ancient out of a project that could have no good ending, but he was adamant.

“In that case,” Raphael said when it became clear that Antonicus would not see reason, “will you agree to wear a device that records and transmits images back to us? We must know what is happening within the fog.”

Antonicus flicked a hand. “As long as it does not interfere with my ability to use my weapons.” Pure contempt in the look he gave the Cadre. “I must have a day to rest after my premature waking. I will make the attempt directly afterward.”

“We must all bear witness,” Caliane murmured. “Neha, I would ask permission for the Cadre and the awakened ones to gather on your border to watch Antonicus’s flight into the fog.”

“I will be gracious.” Neha was very much the Queen of India at that moment. “You are to leave immediately after Antonicus’s attempt, unless there is reason for another meeting of the Cadre. If so, we will hold that meeting at the border fort.”

“Agreed,” said every archangel in the space.

All twelve of them.

Add Lijuan and there were thirteen archangels in the world, five of them Ancients.

War was a certainty.

42

Elena took a deep breath. The orange-red of the Moroccan landscape was a familiar embrace, the sun kissing it with warmth even in winter. She’d wondered if her response to this land would change now that she knew the horrors that had befallen her grandparents here, but no, it continued to feel a little like home. The lilt of people’s voices, the scents in the air, the grit between her teeth as the sand got in, none of it was alien.

“Does it hurt you to be here?” Illium asked while they were stretching out their bodies after disembarking from the plane.

“No. My strongest sense of Morocco is love.” Raw and deep and constant. “Jean-Baptiste’s love for Majda and hers for him. Majda’s desperate love for her daughter.” This was where Elena’s history had begun. “How are you doing?”

His eyes shimmered even more golden under the light of this place full of mountains and sky. “I worry for my mother’s heart. It is