Court of Sunder (Age of Angels #2) - Milana Jacks Page 0,23

How I’d go about life being near him, I had no idea.

“Do you have a fan?” I asked the woman.

“It won’t help, dear.” She winked and grabbed a sack, then started shoving things into it. Once it was filled, she handed it to me, but her lord grabbed it and slung it over his shoulder.

“Abigail, send out word of my return.”

“My lord, everyone already knows.”

“How so?”

“Nancy’s boy was at Mary Ann’s last night. Left the second he saw what you…made. There are more of those things hunkering underground, in the tunnels and caves, all around the city. They ate rats, I’ve heard.”

Oh my God.

“They are the undead, and they feed from the blood of the living.”

The old woman shuddered.

“You and everyone else will feed them tonight. Spread the word.”

She bowed her head. “Yes, my lord.”

Lord Raphael opened the door and held it for me. I exited on shaky knees. He took my hand again and led me up the hill, and the closer we got to the tallest building in the Court, its roof peeking above the others, the more densely populated the city became. Tall four- and five-story homes painted every color imaginable crowded the streets in a chaotic manner, and I could barely make out where one block ended and the other began. While the Court of Command was a maze, the structures had clear blocks, streets, and districts. It was organized and defined. Orderly. Not so much here.

We passed what appeared to be a square that held a theater stage but no people, not even cats or dogs. I listened for the birds and heard none. Raphael kept moving, behaving as if the silence in a city of thousands was normal.

We climbed, passing one tower and reaching an open iron gate that stood before a garden spreading over acres of land. Deserted, withering, neglected plants lurked beyond it. Raphael continued toward the fortress flanked on either side by towers with waterfalls that poured into ponds which then spread into tiny capillary rivers all over the garden. I’d never seen anything like it.

I walked toward a bush trimmed into the figure of an angel, and as I stood before it, I recognized Lord Raphael’s features. Between his fingers, he held a flute. I chuckled.

He stood next to me. “Something amusing?”

“The flute doesn’t suit you.”

He sighed. “My people view me as the bringer of joy, peace, and healing.”

“And sunder.”

“That’s reserved for my enemies.” He winked. “Perhaps we could explore after I secure the area.”

“There’s nobody here.”

“That’s because they’re all piled up inside.” He climbed the steps to the main entrance, and I followed, wondering what exactly he meant by “piled up inside.” The image of lifeless hills of flesh made me swallow and brace for the worst.

“I promise,” he threw over his shoulder, “there will be a better time to stroll through my gardens. One can’t appreciate their beauty now because they’ve lost their charm while I rotted in my brother’s, your commander’s, keep for no fucking reason.”

There was a reason. “You tried to kill his mate.”

Lord Raphael snorted. “He would have done the same. My actions that day were justified.”

I wondered how the two archangels would mend their differences. And they needed to mend the differences or else Lucifer would take advantage of their quarrel. I was certain of it.

Steps led us up to a grand wooden door painted in gold floral patterns, and Lord Raphael stood before it, staring. I waited. And waited some more while he stood there.

“Did you lose the key?” I asked.

He snapped his head my way and glared.

“No?” Maybe he lost his magical touch. Or his mind. Barely suppressing my laughter, I snorted.

“Something funny?” he asked.

“Not at all. I’m wondering what you’re waiting for.”

“My butler.”

“Is he piled up inside with everyone else? Dead but not dead?” I asked. Maybe I had lost my mind, along with my mouth filter.

“He shouldn’t be.” Raphael pressed a hand on the door and scrunched up his face as if in pain.

I knocked.

He stared at me.

“What? That’s what normal people do. They knock.”

“This is my house. I shouldn’t have to knock.”

“Well, now you do.”

He banged on the door. “Richard,” he shouted.

The door cracked open, and a branch poked out first before the man behind it opened the door. Correction. This was not a man. Standing at ten feet tall was a…a walking tree with the face of a man with a long branch-like nose that thankfully didn’t sprout leaves or fruit. Narrow brown eyes blinked and widened. He