"What did he say?" Her expression was grim by the time he finished. "No solid trail for us to follow."
"No. He was ambushed while alone in one of the less populated sections of Elijah's Refuge territory." Cross traffic was permitted throughout the city, so long as certain courtesies were observed. "I've had Jason checking, but he's been unable to find any witnesses."
"The ambush site?"
"Exposed to the elements. Any trace of their passage is long gone." Which spoke to some very careful planning. "And Noel was so badly injured, it was impossible to tell whether the ones who took him left anything of their own blood or sweat behind."
Elena shook her head. "I don't think they did - I would've picked up the most minute trace when we first saw him, that area was so clean of scent. What about the shoe prints on his back?"
"Not enough detail - his flesh had already begun to heal." Raphael was certain that had been deliberate. Not to hide the boot marks, but to ensure the shards of glass were buried deep enough that they'd cause excruciating pain when Noel rose to consciousness.
"How bad is it for him?" A quiet question.
"Brutal."
She closed her injured hand over her knee, the tendons turning white against the dark gold of her skin. "You give any credence to the Elijah angle?"
"Nothing but an attempt to play me." If Elijah decided to kill Raphael, he wouldn't waste time on petty games. "Elijah has no desire for conquest."
Elena met his gaze, her frustration at the dead ends clear. "Can I do anything?"
"The stronger you get, the more difficult it becomes to hurt you."
Her expression grew intent, as if she'd heard something he hadn't been aware of saying.
"It's personal for you, just like it is for Illium and the others."
"I won't allow my people to be treated as disposable pawns." And he'd cold-bloodedly end the life of anyone who dared come after Elena.
"That's how hunters work. Attack one, attack us all." A quick nod. "I have a feeling you suspect someone."
"Nazarach is over seven centuries old and as with many of the old ones, pain has become his pleasure." Nazarach was also bound to Raphael. If he'd turned traitor, his punishment would send a scream through the world.
Elena played her fingers along the hilt of a knife he hadn't seen her draw. "That's when you know you've stepped over the line." She looked up, her eyes haunted. "When it starts to feel good."
"You'll never cross that line," he said, moving to pull her to a standing position. He might not be certain of himself, but he had no doubts when it came to Elena.
"How do you know?" Her face was a mask hiding a thousand nightmares. "I was glad when Uram died. I was so damnhappy the bastard was dead."
"Did you delight in his pain?" he murmured in her ear. "Did you smile when he bled, when his flesh burned? Did you laugh when I ended his life?"
He felt her rejection of the idea even before she shook her head, wrapping her arms tight around him. "Do you ever worry?"
"Yes. Cruelty seems to be a symptom of age and power." He thought of Lijuan, raising the dead, playing with them as a child would with toys. "I look into my heart and see the abyss looking back at me."
"I won't let you fall." A fierce promise.
He held her close, his immortal with a mortal heart.
An hour later, and still able to feel Raphael's arms around her, Elena walked into a classroom. Ten pairs of shiny eyes stared at her in mute fascination as she took a seat in the semicircle. Elena was doing some staring of her own. This was the closest she'd ever been to the youngest of immortals - they appeared significantly frailer than she would've guessed, their wings so delicate she could've torn apart each with her bare hands.
Finally, one little girl, her tawny hair in pigtails, wings of autumn and sunset at her back, dared to speak. "Are you a kid?"
Elena bit the inside of her lip and shifted on the big, firm cushion - to her eternal gratitude there'd been one in her size in the corner - that seemed to function as a chair.
"No," she answered, feeling her spirits lighten in a way she'd never have expected after her conversation with Raphael. "But I haven't been an angel very long." Of course, when Dmitri had told her she'd be attending lessons to bring her up to speed on angelic culture - to save her from her own ignorance - she hadn't quite expected this.
Whispers behind raised hands, passed angel to angel. Until one almond-eyed girl said,