“The thing that changed wasn’t his ability to do what was necessary, it was his empathy,” Illium said. “Raphael could’ve snuffed out a thousand mortal lives without thought—as can most of the archangels. Now . . . now Raphael loves Ellie, and he’s remembered what he almost forgot: that while mortal lives are short, they’re no less valuable than ours.”
About to reply, Aodhan’s eye caught on the profile of a woman who sat in the back of a truck that currently had its covers rolled back. As with most angels, his vision was acute, so he had no trouble distinguishing her features. “There’s Fei. Do you know if she’s said anything else since our last update from Rii?” Aodhan had meant to follow up on that, forgotten in the rush to ensure a smooth departure.
Illium shook his head, his skin strained over his jawline. “I caught Rii right before he got into his truck. He says if you press her she just keeps repeating ‘Goddess Lijuan’—other than that, she’s turned mute.”
“You’ll have to get used to Lijuan’s shadow.” Aodhan had had to do the same after he first relocated to China. “No way to avoid it here.”
Illium said nothing, and they watched the departure in silence. Even with the limited number of survivors, it took a long time for the last of the convoy to pass below—then overhead.
General Arzaleya and her squadron dipped their wings in a coordinated good-bye, while the vampires driving below flashed their lights. No honking horns. No making extraneous noise that might draw out the dangers hidden within China’s beauty.
Then they were moving on, slowly fading into the distance.
Inside Aodhan’s mind came a familiar voice, elegant and feminine: Take care, Aodhan. Never forget that my aunt ruled this land for an eon. Her mark endures.
I won’t forget, Aodhan promised. I would urge you to do the same. Simply because you’re far from her strongholds at any one point doesn’t mean it’s safe to drop your guard.
Soft laughter. Oh, Aodhan. Do you think either of us will be capable of true trust ever again?
Aodhan glanced at the blue-winged angel who stood next to him, straight backed and alert—and, despite his apology for how he’d blown up at Aodhan—still so angry under the skin. And yet who would, without hesitation, step into the path of a killing blow aimed at Aodhan. Yes. I’m capable of great trust, as are you. You trust me.
So I do, my friend. I will see you soon.
Her presence faded from his mind.
And though the convoy would take a long time to vanish totally into the distance, they were now far enough away that it was difficult to make out individuals. Aodhan stirred his wings. “Shall we eat, then do a survey of the hamlet?” Neither one of them had eaten this morning, while burning considerable energy.
Illium even more so than Aodhan, because Arzaleya had roped him into doing a rapid scouting run a significant distance out along today’s proposed route. Aodhan had watched Illium take off, a streak of blue against the cool light of dawn, and his stomach had wrenched at seeing him out alone in the sky of this dangerous land.
Now, his friend gave a curt nod before lifting off.
Eyes narrowed, Aodhan spread his own wings before rising more slowly into the air. No more, he thought. No more unsaid things, no more distance, no more simmering anger. Now that they were alone, it was time the two of them had this out.
Only . . . they weren’t alone, were they?
Kai, lovely and sensual and a mirror of Illium’s youthful obsession, was still here.
26
Yesterday
Illium landed in front of the small studio Aodhan had claimed as his own on the outskirts of the Refuge. No one had been using it, and no one seemed to know to whom it had ever belonged, so Aodhan had asked permission from the second of the archangel in charge of that part of the Refuge—Uram—and been granted it.
He and Illium had basically rebuilt the dilapidated structure, until it was now a place full of light where Aodhan could paint. Illium didn’t usually interrupt his friend while he was creating—he knew the kind of concentration Aodhan demanded of himself. But he was too excited to stop himself today.
“Adi!”
Aodhan looked up from the huge canvas he’d laid out on the floor, his face dotted with bits of paint and his hands a mirage of color. His eyes were unfocused, and for a moment, Illium felt a sudden strange panic. But Aodhan hadn’t gone away as Illium’s mother had done; he snapped out of his art and into the present in a matter of heartbeats. “Did you pass the squadron entry tests?” A quick, eager question.