She would, however, one day lose the friends with whom she’d grown into her hunter self. But that day existed in a far distant future. Her compatriots were currently in the prime of their lives. Her partner today had been the irreverent Demarco, a mortal who reminded Raphael of Illium.
He didn’t know Demarco well, but he would remember him long after he’d passed beyond the veil immortals so rarely crossed.
“Elena-mine. A good hunt?”
“Yeah, we got the vamp.” Arms folded as she leaned against one side of the doorway, she shook her head. “Older one. Stupid to allow his control to fray after all this time—and for what? A bad breakup that left him enraged to the point he surrendered to bloodlust.”
Unfolding her arms, she straightened up. “I was just going to wave at you to let you know I was home, then head up for a bath, but then I heard you mention Her Evilness. What’s happened?”
When he told her—for she was welcome to all he knew, his consort in the truest sense—she hissed out a breath. “I thought I understood evil, but this . . .” Striding over, she cupped the side of his face. “You okay, Archangel?”
No one else would’ve thought to ask that question. Elena alone understood how the specter of madness haunted Raphael. Both of his parents had gone mad. One had died. One had survived. Each had caused carnage.
“Yes.” He wrapped her up in his arms and in his wings, needing her close.
“Raphael, I’m sweaty and—”
“Hbeebti.”
She locked her arms around his torso, the lithe muscle of her warm and possessive. “Not that I’m not happy to see you,” she said softly against his neck, “but that’s a knife hilt that’s digging into you.”
He laughed, the sensation unexpected after the ugliness of what he’d just discussed with Suyin. Then, surrounded by the fierce life of his Elena, he told her the full extent of what Aodhan and Illium had discovered.
“Fuck.” A shake of her head against him, tendrils of her hair clinging to the white of his shirt. It had grown out in the time since she’d woken, the tiny feathers at the ends now all gone, and the length enough for her to braid it back out of the way as she’d done today.
Every so often, however, he’d catch a glimpse of light arcing through her wings. She’d told him she didn’t feel anything, and as far as they’d been able to determine, her power levels remained appropriate to her age as an immortal—though the Cascade had left her one lingering gift: she healed faster now, the archangelic cells in her body having accelerated her immortality.
“It disturbs me that I interacted with Lijuan as an elder archangel during the time she was torturing her child,” he admitted. “Because that was what it was: torture.”
“You won’t get any disagreement from me.”
“But I never saw any signs of such depravity. I saw that she was old and wise and not necessarily ‘nice’—but so few of the old ones are. It makes me question my ability to judge my fellow members of the Cadre.”
Elena pushed back so she could look up at him.“No one saw it,” she pointed out. “Not a single person outside of her inner circle. I know angels well enough to predict that almost none would’ve countenanced the mistreatment of a child—especially not back then, before she turned so many of her people into obedient followers.”
She put a hand on his chest, over his heart. “The news would’ve spread if Lijuan had brought in anyone but her most fervent acolytes. Trust me, Archangel, she put a firewall of unquestioning devotion around that information—and she was still stable enough to appear normal.”
Raphael went through a list in his mind, of Lijuan’s most trusted courtiers and generals. “I can’t believe this of General Xi. He saw her as his goddess, but he was a good man in many ways—especially back during the time of Jinhai’s birth.”
“Mortals have countenanced a hell of a lot of cruelty in the name of religion,” Elena pointed out. “And Lijuan had Xi since he was real young. I’d like to think he didn’t know, that she used others who were less intelligent, less likely to question her, but unless Suyin’s people dig up records that make it clear, we’re never going to know for sure.”
“No. The boy’s words certainly can’t be trusted, not given his state of mind.” Raphael pressed his lips to the top of Elena’s hair. “I think I will join you in that bath, Elena-mine. I feel the need to wash off this darkness.”