Raphael lowered himself on one knee, his arm locked tight around her hips to stop her from falling. He used his free hand to grab the precious items and pass them up to her. Clutching them to her naked chest, she said, “Let’s do this.”
A last glance from eyes that were the wrong color and alive with deadly power before Raphael scooped her up in his arms. Elena pressed a kiss to his left pectoral muscle and hoped.
Flaring out his wings, he rose in an effortless vertical takeoff.
Elena whooped at the sensation—flight was beautiful and she’d never be jaded about it. And this, it might be their final moment of happiness if what lay beyond was a devastated wasteland.
Dipping his head, Raphael kissed her and she tasted power, love, Raphael, before they broke apart and turned their faces upward. “Together,” she said, her voice firm.
His response was immediate and absolute. “Always.”
The red-orange “sky” began to disappear as they got closer to the top, falling away on either side like molten doors sinking back into the earth. The two of them shot up and out. The temperature was just on the edge of cold, the sun bright.
Gold met silver . . . and they turned as one to look down.
Their home was gone. So was the greenhouse. Blast damage was evidenced by broken trees and what looked like a car flung upside down in a tangle of shattered wood, but their nearest neighbor was some distance away and that house appeared undamaged except for shards of glass that glinted in the grass around it. Its windows had blown out.
Nothing moved in that direction. No birds, no people, no cars.
The skies were empty.
“We must look toward the Tower.”
Elena clenched her abdominal muscles. “Do it.”
All the air rushed out of her a heartbeat later. Directly in their line of sight and not ten meters away hovered two familiar faces. “Bluebell.” A whisper. “And the Primary.” Both looked a touch worse for wear, but otherwise fine. At that instant, they appeared to be arguing—as much as the Primary argued with anyone.
Beyond them hovered countless more wings of Legion-gray . . . silhouetted against the skyscrapers of Manhattan. “Can you ask about Montgomery and Sivya?” Their butler and cook were the most likely to have been in the house when it exploded.
Raphael spoke mentally to Elena’s Bluebell on the heels of Elena’s request. Illium. He, too, needed to know this answer.
The blue-winged angel’s head swung toward them. His eyes scanned the skies in a futile search—Raphael and Elena were invisible inside the glamour.
Sire?
Raphael saw the angel swallow hard even from this distance, his body held with a rigid stiffness.
Elena and I have returned, Raphael said, for he would not draw out his people’s pain. Montgomery and Sivya?
Safe. Illium shuddered, every muscle in his body seeming to unlock. We cleared everyone within a large radius and your home was already a no-fly zone with heavily patrolled borders. There should be no casualties.
Raphael passed on Illium’s words to Elena. A shimmer of wet on her irises. Squeezing her eyes shut, she spoke in a voice thick with unspoken emotion. “I’ll take that as a win.”
“As will I.” They had not risen on the cold bodies of others, had not stolen life by sending others into the abyss.
Sire, what should I do now?
Raphael had never heard Illium sound so uncertain, so shaken. Watch over this chasm until I can return to refill it. The sides looked to have been forcefully compacted by his power. The hole should fill if he could collapse those walls.
Jason is in the city. Illium’s eyes still searched for them, though he was well aware of Raphael’s ability to create glamour. Together, we can take care of it.
“Your Bluebell needs to see us,” Raphael murmured to Elena. “I will ask him to come to the Tower.”
“I’d need to see us, too, if we got eaten by a chrysalis then exploded our house.” The strands of her hair waved around her face in the gentle but crisp wind, the tiny feathers glittering a touch in the sunlight.
Illium’s face was stark with need when Raphael spoke the invitation, but he was one of Raphael’s Seven for a reason. Squaring his shoulders, he said, I will wait for Jason and collapse the hole first. Should I do a run inside to retrieve anything salvageable?
This was why the blue-winged angel was one of Raphael’s most trusted people. He had courage and intelligence both. No, Illium, on second thought, you and Jason should stay away from the chasm. I do not know if any remnants of Cascade-born power linger within and how those remnants will react to anyone but Elena and me.
Raphael could survive even if buried under tons of rock and dirt infused with wild Cascade energies, but Illium was too young. Keep watch until I return. Then we will go to the Tower together.
Sire. Ellie . . .
She is the Ellie you know. Her physical state would matter as little to Illium as it did to Raphael.
Raphael spoke next to the Primary. He had no need to announce his and Elena’s return—it had taken about thirty seconds after they’d exited the hole, but the Legion were once again a murmur at the back of his mind. He knew his consort heard them, too, for they were as much hers as his.
Raphael. Aeclari. Elena. Aeclari. We waited! You have come!
“Whoa.” Elena winced. “I think they’re trying to whisper, but seven-hundred-and-seventy-seven whispers pack a punch.” But despite the barrage of noise, her lips curved. “It’s good to be home.”
Elena. Aeclari. Raphael. Aeclari.
What do you need?
We are your Legion.
Help Illium maintain a watch over the chasm, Raphael ordered.
He directed his next words to the Primary and Illium both. Contact me at once should the chasm change in any way. Do not go any closer than you are now.
Sire. Two minds, two very distinct mental voices, the rest of the Legion fading away to a background murmur.
Raphael flew toward Manhattan, angling his flight so that the wind of his passage blew Illium’s hair off his face. The angel’s startled laughter held a sharp edge. The kind of edge that came from relief so visceral it was painful.
Cupping his hands to his mouth a second later, the blue-winged angel yelled out, “Ellie, I saved your crossbow!”
In Raphael’s arms, Elena’s face cracked into a grin so broad that it lit up the cold places inside him. As long as she existed, he would always be a little bit mortal, but he would have to be careful with this Cascade-born power. It continued to fight to manipulate him, continued to attempt to push him into a coldness that would make the most cruel, heartless decisions seem tenable.