Archangel's War (Guild Hunter #12) - Nalini Singh Page 0,37

where she sat on the sofa wrapped up in a soft blanket, out of sight of the screen; the Guild director had sent over a few more weapons for her from the Guild’s stores, and she was examining them to see if they’d suit, while buffing off any marks with a soft cloth and adding oil where it was needed. Of course our favorite batshit crazy archangel is creating creepy things even in her Sleep. Because the creepy, it never rests.

Raphael had to fight not to let his lips twitch. “I will pass on any information we have. Please give my consort’s regards to yours. She plans to write Hannah a letter soon.”

“Hannah will be most pleased to hear from her. Be well, Raphael.” Elijah signed off.

Raphael turned to his consort just as a black-winged shape landed on the balcony outside. They’d left the doors open to the glittering spectacle of Manhattan, for Elena drew strength from the sight of her city and the cool night air was a thing easily remedied. “Jason,” he said to his spymaster.

“Sire,” replied the member of his Seven who was the most difficult to read. “It is good to have you home.” Then, to Raphael’s surprise, he came close enough for them to clasp forearms and embrace in the way Raphael had done with Dmitri.

Jason was not an angel who embraced easily.

After they parted, Jason turned to Elena and the light caught on the lines and dots of the tribal tattoo that marked the left side of his face. “I am glad you are safe, Elena.” Reaching into a pocket, he pulled out a small object. “I saw this in a market in China and bought it for when you woke.”

A startled blink before Elena took the oval-shaped article made of metal that had gone slightly green from age. It was a carved box, Raphael saw, the design raised and intricate. But this was a gift from a spymaster. “It contains a secret,” Raphael murmured, certain of his conclusion.

“Hmm.” Setting her jaw, Elena bent over the puzzle box. First, she pushed various parts of the box in one direction, then the other, one by one. When it remained locked, apparently nothing more than a pretty ornament, she began to push in two directions at once.

Nothing.

A narrow-eyed glance up at the angel who’d given her the gift, an angel with wings of a soft black as inky as the night, an angel who lived in the world of secrets and shadows. “Is there really a secret or are you and your archangel messing with me?”

“There is a secret.” Solemn words from a man who smiled rarely and most often with the princess who held his heart. “The trick is—”

“No, don’t tell me.” Lines on her forehead, her attention already back on the puzzle box. “You and Raphael talk while I figure it out.”

“Will you have a drink, Jason?” Angels of Jason’s level of power could no more become intoxicated than Raphael, but the taste was pleasing.

Jason inclined his head. “It has been a long day.”

But he would go home, flying longer still, of this Raphael had no doubt. “Mahiya did not come with you on this journey?” Jason had been training his princess in the techniques of a spy so she could accompany him on some missions at least—gentle Mahiya had put her foot down and stated that she intended to be his partner in every way . . . and that she missed him when he was gone.

Jason was not proof against such unhidden love, not after a lifetime of loneliness. “China is too dangerous,” he said to Raphael. “Mahiya agreed with me—she knows I would worry about her in such a place and has no wish to divide my attention.” He took the tumbler of amber liquid Raphael held out. “She grows in skill day after day. In the future, you will have a pair of spymasters, not only one.”

“Such an advantage will be welcome.” Raphael poured himself a drink, too. “I’ve just been speaking to Elijah.” He summarized Eli’s words about the villagers. “Did you notice any strange behavior?”

19

Nodding, Jason took a sip of his drink. “For the most part, they act as is normal, expected, but every so often, their bodies jerk—as if being pulled by invisible strings.”

“Told you—better, more improved zombies,” Elena muttered, her head bent over the puzzle box.

“An apt description,” Jason said. “These are not the dead turned reborn, but their eyes are not . . .