he was breathing and looked human.”
Elena couldn’t find the words to reply. She was just glad she’d called Jeffrey.
“He cares about you, Ellie.” An odd tone to Illium’s voice. “My father . . .” A rough exhale. “Never mind.”
The comment broke through her paralysis. “What is it?” Illium never talked about his father.
He just shook his head today, too. “Jeffrey’s here and he cares enough to keep track of you.”
At least he stuck around.
Elena had spoken those same words or similar enough plenty of times. She’d loved her sparkling, effervescent mother so much. So had Jeffrey. Marguerite had always been the laughing, loving heart of their family, sunshine bottled up in a delicate frame, her love for her husband and daughters worn on her sleeve. But, when the worst had happened, that love hadn’t been enough to convince her to fight to hold on to life.
She’d forgotten Jeffrey and Elena and Beth in her grief over Belle and Ari. Elena’s final memory of her mother would always be a swinging shadow on the wall, a high-heeled shoe abandoned on tile. Marguerite had chosen to leave them. Jeffrey had chosen to stay. At times, it was that painfully simple.
16
The skies above Manhattan were night-dark by the time Raphael landed on the balcony outside his and Elena’s living area. Warm light poured out through the glass, welcoming him home. His consort was ensconced on the sofa, lovingly polishing what looked to be a well-used set of throwing knives.
Looking up from her task, she raised an eyebrow. Why are you standing there staring through the glass like a creepy stalker?
He felt his lips twitch. I was simply admiring my consort. Entering, he walked across to press a kiss to her nape. “Where did those come from?”
“Deacon used my old throwing blades to get the weighting right for my new ones. He kept the old ones in storage for reference. Sent them over today to keep me company while he forges new ones.” She played a blade through her fingers with a dexterity he wouldn’t have expected so soon after waking. “I told him to send the bill to you.”
“Excellent. Even the greatest weapons-maker alive is not permitted to give my consort blades.” It was a promise between them now, his insistence on being the only man who ever gave her a blade. “Do I see a blue feather lying over there?”
“Illium visited.” She scowled as he came around the sofa to take a seat on the coffee table in front of her, his wings spread out behind him. “That idiot flew back into the house to grab my crossbow, the jeweled blade you gave me, and Aodhan’s painting.”
Of course Illium would’ve saved that precious piece of art. “He’s an incredibly fast flyer.”
“Don’t tell me you’re not furious with him for taking the risk.”
“It would do no good. Your Bluebell will never be sorry for what he did.” Lighthearted and joyous, Illium rarely turned intractable—that didn’t mean he wasn’t stubborn. “I’ve known him from the day he was born. When he decides a course of action is the right one, no one can make him repent—as a child, he’d take punishment for such things but would not say sorry.”
“Ugh.” She dropped her head back on the sofa, the fine strands of her hair spreading out across the velvet gray. “So, how was it? Your flight. Smite anyone while being Scary Raphael?”
He’d known she’d guess why he’d been absent so many hours. “I came close with one senior angel who allowed matters to slide while I was gone. No excuse except ennui—I’ve demoted him and that area of the territory will now be handled by a vampire of Dmitri’s age who normally works under Nazarach.”
Elena shivered at the name of the Atlantan angel. She’d never taken to Nazarach, considering him cruel beyond anything which could be justified. As an archangel who needed strong angels he could trust to do their jobs controlling vampires, Raphael had a different point of view, and the two of them had agreed to disagree on the issue.
“Did you fly as far as Atlanta?”
Raphael nodded. “It took far less effort and time than I expected. These wings are fast even now they’re no longer aflame.” Then he told her the most intriguing thing. “I was nearly in Atlanta when we spoke of Elijah’s condors.”
Elena’s mouth fell open. Shutting it on a snap of sound, she shook her head hard. “You’re telling me I made contact with you across multiple states?”
“Your