At the time, he’d been too young to understand the why behind the unusual echo.
“I can well imagine him doing that.” Raphael’s tone was difficult to judge. “He was never cruel or callous, certainly never to children. And you he kept an eye on until you were full grown.”
Frowning, Naasir tried to bring the memory of his meeting with the Ancient into focus, but he’d been too young. “He was a good leader?”
“He was a great one,” Raphael said quietly, so many layers to his voice that Naasir couldn’t unravel them all. “He was also a viciously powerful archangel who preferred the old ways to the new, and who thought me an upstart. As a result, he almost started a war with me, but in the end, he chose to Sleep rather than indulge in violence.”
Wings whispering as his feathers slid against one another, Raphael came to stand right beside Naasir. His power burned against Naasir’s skin, but the pressure was familiar after so many centuries at his side.
“It’s possible Lijuan believes he might be an ally because of his past aggression toward me,” Raphael continued, “but given her delusions of godhood, it’s far more likely that she wants to kill everyone who might have the power to oppose her.”
Naasir’s hunting instincts rose to the fore. “Is Alexander powerful enough to do that?” If he was, maybe this time Lijuan would stay dead.
“Unpredictable. He was stronger than her when he went to Sleep roughly four hundred years ago, but Lijuan’s power has grown exponentially in that same period, while he’s been in stasis.”
Naasir knew that when angels Slept, they didn’t change, but that wasn’t his concern right now. “I need a scent to track and Alexander has been gone too long from the world.” Even Naasir couldn’t track a ghost.
That annoyed him; he didn’t like not being able to find his prey.
Like his mate. Who was hiding from him.
“You’ll have help,” Raphael replied, then paused to watch a solitary squadron fighter do a number of intricate flight moves while practicing with a crossbow. “Jessamy has a scholar studying under her who has specialized in the Sleeping archangels. Your task is to keep her safe and explore the locations she suggests.”
Naasir frowned. “Is her specialization known to others?”
“Yes.” Raphael’s voice was cold enough to frost the air. “It’s unlikely even Lijuan would order the abduction of an angel right from the Refuge, but given her track record of breaking angelic taboos, I have Galen and Venom keeping an eye on Andromeda regardless.”
“I’ll look after her.” Naasir could be a good guard dog when needed.
“You will also have to watch her,” Raphael said. “She is Charisemnon’s granddaughter.”
Naasir bared his teeth at the name of the archangel who had caused the Falling, the terrible event that had hurt or killed so many angels. Charisemnon was also responsible for a deadly vampire disease. “Why are we working with her?”
“Jessamy assures me that Andromeda is a scholar right down to the bone, one who cut all ties to her family when she arrived at the Refuge, and who is horrified at the thought of the murder of a Sleeper. Galen backs Jessamy’s judgment.”
Naasir nodded. “Galen has good instincts.” Jessamy was smart but with too tender a heart. “I’ll be able to tell if the scholar lies.” Immortal or mortal, liars had an unmistakable and sour scent. “But since Lijuan’s people are searching without success, Galen and Jessamy seem to be right about her loyalties.”
“Yes, close as Lijuan is to Charisemnon, he would’ve shared the knowledge if he had it. We will give this young scholar the benefit of the doubt and a chance to prove herself.”
“Who’ll watch over her when I need to explore the locations she suggests for Alexander’s Sleeping place?”
“You’ll take her with you.”
Naasir looked up at Raphael.
Blinked.
Then snarled. “I can’t be dragging around a historian. They break.” As a boy, he’d once broken Jessamy’s arm by jumping on her from a high shelf, he’d been so excited to see her. She’d told him not to worry, that she knew he hadn’t done it on purpose and that she’d heal quickly, but he’d never forgotten her cry of shock and pain—or the horrible crunching sound her arm made as it snapped.
“It’s your task to make sure she doesn’t break, Naasir.” The midnight of Raphael’s hair whipped around his face as the wind rose in a sudden gust. “Andromeda is our greatest chance of reaching Alexander first—we can’t forget Lijuan’s age or the age of the scholars in her court. She may have access to information that gives her a head start.”
Turning his attention back toward the metal and glass and glittering water of the city, Naasir tried to sound human as he spoke. He didn’t wholly succeed, his words guttural. “How am I supposed to find my mate if I’m dragging around another woman?”
“You’ve survived six hundred years without a mate.” A touch of amusement in Raphael’s tone. “Why are you so impatient now?”
“Because it’s time.” Naasir lived according to the rhythms of his blood and of his soul, and that rhythm was now pounding a single beat. “Is this scholar wild and interesting?” he asked hopefully, because like his sire, he didn’t judge a person on their bloodline, only on their actions.
“Not according to your definition. It appears Andromeda has taken a vow of celibacy.”
Naasir groaned. “I think I should jump off into traffic. It’d be less painful than such torture.”
Naasir liked sex, liked touching women’s soft, warm bodies, liked driving his cock into their tight, wet sheaths as they screamed his name. He hadn’t done it since the night he decided to go mate hunting, so he wasn’t frustrated by the vow of celibacy because he planned to seduce the scholar—no, he was frustrated because that vow confirmed she wasn’t his, and now he was going to be stuck with her for who knew how long.
No mate of his would ever be so ridiculous as to take a vow of celibacy. “What kind of strange person takes a vow like that?” Angelkind wasn’t exactly known for its lack of excess.
Raphael laughed, the big, open sound one Naasir hadn’t heard for a long time before Elena came into the sire’s life. That was what Naasir wanted—a mate who’d play with him, who’d make him laugh, who’d challenge him. And who’d rut with him. Over and over. No idiotic vow of celibacy permitted.
“There are the odd few,” Raphael said after his laughter faded. “Scholars sometimes believe cutting out physical distractions heightens the mind.”
“In that case, I’d rather stay unenlightened.” Rising to his feet, Naasir held Raphael’s gaze. “I will go, sire.” He’d miss dinner with Honor and Dmitri, but they would understand—and when he returned, he’d be welcome at their table.
Raphael shook his head, the inky strands of his hair crossing over the painful blue of his eyes as the gust returned. “Not tonight, Naasir. Tonight, you’ll spend with family in New York.”
2
Naasir hated traveling in the metal bucket of a jet, but it was the fastest way for a non-winged traveler to get most of the way to the Refuge. He paced the cabin the entire time and was out the door almost before it was fully open once they landed. The sun on his face, the kiss of wind, it was pure pleasure.
Breathing deep for the first time in hours, he shook himself to settle his skin back into proper place, then grabbed his duffel when the pilot threw it out. He grinned and saluted one of the two men—the other being the co-pilot—whom he’d driven crazy over the flight. The other vampire was used to him and flashed Naasir his fangs before disappearing back inside.
Naasir laughed and, duffel slung over his shoulder, loped to the private parking garage that housed his motorcycle. He could see mountains in the distance, clouds touching them, but they weren’t of the Refuge. He was still far, for the angels had nothing of civilization close to them.
Any unauthorized vampire, or mortal who accidentally entered Refuge territory, soon forgot about it, the memory taken quietly away. The landscape itself was so forbidding that it kept most at bay, and the powerful angels who lived permanently in the Refuge were able to do something that swathed the approaches to the angelic haven in heavy fog.