Aodhan knew exactly who he’d place in the position of her second, but he couldn’t influence Suyin, not in this. Being second wasn’t only about power and skill but about the ability to bond to your archangel. “I will remain as long as you need.”
“I know.” A smile that spoke of her faith in his honor, this extraordinary new archangel who’d helped him find his wings by accepting him at her side. “Take care as you investigate the oddities here. I would not have harm come to you or Illium.”
“I’ll keep you updated.” He’d attempted to teach her how to use a phone and—to her credit—though she’d failed to retain the knowledge, she’d tried her best despite her age and distance from the current world. That was the difference between her and a pompous ass like Aegaeon, who refused to “lower himself” to modern technology.
How Illium could’ve come from such “a stinking blot of donkey excrement” Aodhan would never know. He’d also be forever grateful to Titus for that description of Aegaeon, which Aodhan hadn’t been meant to overhear—but he had, and it gave him great pleasure to use it even if only inside his mind.
* * *
*
An hour after his meeting with Suyin, Aodhan stood with Illium on the same stone pillar from which they’d watched dawn caress the landscape, a lover too long gone.
Now, they watched Suyin lead her people home. She flew at the front, on alert for any danger, a combat squadron behind her.
Far below the sea of wings moved a line of vehicles. Mortals in the core, ringed by civilian vampires, with trained vampire warriors on the outside. Because even a vampire untrained in combat could survive a lot more than a mortal, up to and including being disemboweled.
“Still can’t believe there are no combat-capable mortals,” Illium said as he waved to a mortal boy who’d leaned out a window to look back and up at the two of them. With the sky a cloudless chrome blue, Aodhan glittered with light—there was no way for even those far below to miss the two of them.
Illium’s new friend waved back with enthusiasm.
“Do you think the mortal-immortal cooperation in New York was an artefact of war?” Aodhan asked. “Will the Tower’s link to the hunters and other mortals hold in the aftermath?”
“Yes.” No hesitation in Illium’s response. “It’s Ellie. She’ll never lose her humanity—I guarantee you that. And it’s that humanity which brings mortal trust to the door. Without her, they would’ve still assisted us, but it wouldn’t be like it is now.”
Aodhan believed his friend’s assessment. Of all the Seven, even the vampires who’d once been mortal themselves, it was Illium who best spoke the language of that firefly race whose lives blinked out between one beat and the next.
“Remember how Raphael was becoming before her?” Illium added as wing after wing passed overhead. “Remember how Dmitri used to be? You were in the Refuge during that period, only saw them the odd time, but trust me, Aodhan. I witnessed the change day by day, saw they were getting harder and more cruel. Even their friendship, it changed.”
This wasn’t the first time Aodhan had realized he’d missed far more than he knew when he’d sequestered himself. Oh, other than the immediate period around his healing, he’d done his duty, upheld his vows to his archangel. But it had all been at a distance, physical and emotional.
“They’ve been friends for a millennium,” he said, struggling to understand. “What could’ve possibly happened to alter that?”
“Immortality.” A short but full answer.
Aodhan had seen the effect of an endless life on many of their kind. Some grew while remaining true to themselves at the core. Others altered beyond compare. The ones with the greatest power seemed the most vulnerable to the slow corrosion of their hearts. Such as archangels . . . and those powerful enough to be their seconds.
“The vampire in Times Square,” he murmured. “The one whose bones Raphael crushed to pebbles.” Aodhan hadn’t been in the city then, but everyone in the world had heard of that very public chastisement against a being who’d thought to betray his archangel. “I can’t imagine a younger Raphael ever doling out such a harsh punishment.”
Illium shrugged, his shoulders rippling under the faded black of his tee. “Maybe. Maybe not. Remember—we keep telling Suyin to be scary for a reason. A lot of our kind are so jaded that nothing but the most extreme punishment makes a mark.” He shoved a hand through his hair, the blue-tipped black strands so long they were getting into his eyes.