“Yes.” Attention returning to the passing traffic, he added, “I can teach you.”
Curious as to what had him so captivated, she took a seat beside him, careful to ensure their wings didn’t brush. “Are you looking for someone?”
A shake of his head. “I find myself fascinated by the fact that even though the river was full of blood less than a day past, it appears to be business as usual for those who call this land home.”
Elena laughed. “New Yorkers are a tough breed, Aodhan.” Reaching back, she tightened her ponytail. “Kick us and we might go down, but we’ll come back up with fury in our eye and grit in our souls.” She loved the bloody-minded strength of her city. “No outsider will ever see us cry.”
Eyes of shattered glass met her own, her face reflected back at her in startlingly beautiful splinters. “I haven’t forgotten our talk of fear and aloneness,” he said, before shifting his gaze toward Manhattan. “You and this city teach me much about coming back after pain and fear. You’re right—I’ve licked my wounds long enough.”
Stunned at the openness with which he’d referred to his emotional scars, she went with her gut. “We’re all allowed time to curl up and recover from shock or hurt. But if it goes on too long, it begins to eat away at you.” Elena knew that from experience, her angry pain where Jeffrey was concerned having left her with indelible scars of her own. “It’s better to face the pain, neutralize the acid of the memories.”
“And if that fails? If I fall again?”
“You will,” she said, because the truth was a far better weapon against the darkness than any false hope. “Over and over. Sometimes, it’ll get so brutal that curling up and hiding again will seem the better choice.” She thought of the way she’d wanted to shut down in the aftermath of the nightmare in Amanat, of the exhilarating, hot-blooded knife fight that had followed. “Don’t give in, Aodhan, because you can’t imagine the glory that waits on the other side. Fight to see it; fight to own it.”
His responding words held an undertone of heart-piercing joy she’d never before heard from him. “It was worth the risk to play a game with my friend again,” he said, the diamond-coated strands of his hair brushing against his cheekbone in the gentle wind. “Until I threw that ball at Illium over the river, I didn’t understand I hadn’t felt alive for over two hundred years.”
A companionable silence fell between them for the next few minutes, until Aodhan said, “You searched me out on purpose?”
“Yes. I wanted to ask you something.” Her eyes on his profile, his skin—alabaster lovingly caressed with fine gold—flawless. “Does Vivek belong to you? Since you Made him?”
Shaking his head, he said, “All vampires belong to the archangel in the territory where the vampire is Made. Supervisors are chosen from among the senior angels.”
Damn. “So I’m too young to supervise a vampire?”
“In ordinary circumstances, yes; a new-Made vampire can sometimes be violent, difficult to control, and you are weak in angelic terms. Vivek Kapur, however,” he said, making it clear he understood why they were having this discussion, “won’t come into his full physical strength for some time and you have Raphael’s resources at your command.”
“So it’s doable?”
“It is done.” He held her gaze. “You understand you’ll be responsible for the hundred years he has Contracted to serve—and that service must be completed.”
“I know. It’ll breed resentment otherwise.” As far as Elena knew, Dmitri’s wife, Honor, was the sole exception to the Contract rule in Raphael’s territory, and it was an exception not a single immortal would ever question. Dmitri had, after all, been Raphael’s loyal second for a thousand years and counting, had spilled his own blood countless times in defense of his archangel.
“What are your plans for the term of his Contract?” Aodhan asked.
“He’ll be with Tower communications as discussed, but as soon as he regains use of his limbs, I plan to put him in training at Guild Academy.” It was what Vivek had decided on when they’d discussed things prior to his Making; a man didn’t need to be physically strong to become a lethal shot. Vivek planned to practice his shooting skills while building up muscle. “In the meantime, he’ll be attending intensive lessons at the Academy to bone up on areas of practical knowledge he didn’t need in his previous position.”
“That won’t be enough,” Aodhan said, just as she glimpsed wings of distinctive silver-blue changing course to head toward them. “He must be seen to be in your service.”
“The training will be to ready him for a position in my Guard.” That wasn’t something she’d known to offer Vivek before, but it seemed the perfect solution. Still, Elena had no intention of forcing the decision on her fellow hunter; Vivek had already had too many choices taken from him. “I trust him down to the bone and he’s already saved my life more times than I can count.”
“Good,” Aodhan said slowly. “Once your intent becomes known, it’ll be assumed he was Made to serve in your Guard, explaining the extraordinary effort expended on his behalf.”
Illium arrived before she could respond, landing to grab a seat beside Aodhan. “Why are we sitting on a bridge presenting postcard shots to the tourists on that boat?” he asked, waving at said tourists, who jumped up and down, their squeals carrying on the winds.
“No one noticed us until you deliberately did a low flyby over that same boat,” Aodhan pointed out.
“Wave to the nice tourists, Sparkle. I promise it won’t cause pestilence and firestorms.”
Elena bit the inside of her cheek at Aodhan’s glare—she’d never seen anyone crack his reserved shell. “Sparkle and Bluebell, nice.”
“Never,” Aodhan said, hands stubbornly on the girder, “ever repeat that. Illium seems to have forgotten I promised to separate his tongue from his mouth should he utter it again in his immortal lifetime.”
“You have to catch me first,” Illium taunted . . . and fell backward over the edge of the bridge tower.
“Illium!” Elena cried out as he tumbled toward the heavy traffic, his wings tangled.
“He’s playing a trick,” Aodhan said calmly. “He used to do that to his mother all the time, until one day, she did it back to him. I do not think I have ever seen Illium so chastised and white.”
“No, Aodhan, he’s falling too fast.” Heart in her throat, Elena twisted in desperate readiness to take off, try to help . . . except it was too late: Illium was about to be crushed between two trucks. “No!”
Silver-blue wings snapping out at unbelievable speed, his nimbleness on astonishing display. “Ellie”—wicked laughter in the gold when he flew back up—“you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I am not talking to you.” Breathless from the fright, she spoke to Aodhan instead. “I’m going to tell the Hummingbird he’s been up to his old tricks.”
Aodhan’s lips kicked up in the slightest, slightest smile.
“Hey! Wait!” Illium tried to get into her line of sight. “Don’t tell Mother. I promise I—”
Elena’s phone rang right in the middle of Illium’s plea for mercy. “Sara, I—” she began, wanting to share the good news about Vivek.
Her best friend cut in, tone stark. “Ashwini spotted a sick vampire in the Port Jersey container terminal. She thinks she can corral him, but she’ll need the Tower to take him off her hands.”
Elena’s blood turned to ice. “We’re on our way.”
28
Ashwini was bleeding badly from cuts on her arms and scratches on her face when Elena arrived with Aodhan and Illium. “Sick vamp didn’t touch me,” she said, before Elena could ask. “Cuts are from before—the retrieval I have immobilized in the car. Idiot male had nails like fucking knives and I was stupid enough to get too close.” She nodded down the row of shipping containers. “Your vamp is in there. I managed to herd him into a dead end.”
Elena went in with Illium and Aodhan, while Ash watched their backs, in case there was more than a single infected vampire in the area.