Are you having any difficulty at the moment?
No. A short pause. In point of fact, I’m cutting through the wind more smoothly than usual.
Given that Raphael’s usual skills were phenomenal, that was a serious asset. The edge of your wing is totally engulfed in white fire all the way up to your secondary coverts, she told him. Come closer and under me so I can touch your wing. Elena was getting better at flight with every day that passed, but that kind of a fine maneuver was currently beyond her.
Raphael shifted into the position she’d requested, part of his wing under her hand. Reaching out, she touched her fingers to the white fire. I can feel your feathers beneath the fire. Silky and strong and as they’d always been. But the flame is playing over my fingers. It’s cool to the touch and it feels like you. Impossible as it was to explain, she could feel the rain and the wind against her fingertips, sense the crashing sea.
Raphael swept up to fly beside her. Once again we have company.
Damn it. I wish they’d wear bells or something. She’d totally missed the Legion fighters who’d come alongside them, both of them dressed in basic black combat leathers, no sleeves.
When she glanced at the one to her left, it was to find him staring at her.
Black haired and golden skinned, he had pale, pale eyes ringed in a pure blue that echoed Raphael’s, his wings a beaten gold where an angel’s largest flight feathers would be. In contrast, where the Legion fighter’s wings grew out of his back, the leathery texture was a black identical to the black in Elena’s wings, the color bleeding into a midnight blue that merged with the gold.
It was the same exact coloring as the Primary had, the Legion all minted on the same press, but she knew this wasn’t the Primary. While the leader of the Legion gave off a sense of terrible age, of infinite memory, this fighter appeared oddly young to Elena’s senses. As if he’d been barely formed before their eons-long Sleep in the deep.
Raising her hand, she waved, just to see what he would do. Only the Primary had spoken to Elena and Raphael thus far. Interaction such as she’d had with him on the rooftop that day was even rarer. “Hello!” she called out in concert with her wave.
The Legion fighter tilted his head to the side like a curious bird and swung closer. Then he raised his hand and echoed Elena’s move. Delighted, she laughed and waved back. His lips moved, as if he were trying to figure out how to laugh or smile. Though he gave up the attempt soon afterward, he stayed by her side across the Hudson.
Do you wish me to command them to stop the escort?
Elena shook her head at Raphael’s question. They seem to like doing it for some reason and it’s harmless enough. The escort home—whether to the Enclave or to the Tower—had begun quietly, soon after the initial postbattle repairs were complete, and was now a ritual. Unless you’re planning to sweep me up into a dance . . .
Are you agreeing to be naked above Manhattan?
Not this century. Skin heating at even the idea of it, though not all of that heat was mortification, she swept down to the river. The Legion fighter dropped with her and skimmed over the rippling water at her side, a puzzled expression on his face. I think he’s trying to figure out why I’d want to do this.
I do not think the Legion yet understands joy. Raphael winged down to join her before the two of them soared back up almost vertically to reach the top of the cliff beyond which sat their home. Elena’s muscles strained at the ascent but she was exhilarated at completing it without faltering.
“Yes!” She pumped her arm up and down as she joined Raphael on the lawn.
The Legion fighter landed beside her, while his partner came down next to Raphael. Turning to her archangel, she said, “How was my form?” It was a serious question.
“You’re listing slightly to the left.”
“I had that feeling. I can’t quite get the balance right.” Frowning, she settled her wings and looked to the Legion fighter who’d waved at her. “Any tips?”
“You are accustomed to carrying a crossbow on the right side of your body, and you tilt to balance yourself out even when you don’t have it strapped on.”
Elena stared. Did I just imagine that or did he speak?
He spoke. Raphael shifted his attention to the fighter. “Your insight is acute.” Turning to Elena when the fighter inclined his head toward him, in the way the Legion had of doing with Raphael, he said, “You don’t need to fix the listing. Learn to be aware of it and conscious of how it affects your balance when you don’t have the crossbow.”
Elena nodded, thanked the Legion fighter, then said, “Want to come for a walk?” to him and his partner both. “I’m heading to the greenhouse.”
Guild Hunter, what are you doing?
Trying to humanize them, so to speak. She couldn’t keep being disturbed by a force that belonged so deeply to her and Raphael that the knowledge was a hum in her bones. Wouldn’t you need a few pointers if you’d been buried at the bottom of the ocean for millennia?
“I will tell Montgomery to send refreshments to you.”
When Elena swiveled on her heel to walk toward the greenhouse, both Legion fighters fell in with her. Hah, she said to Raphael, bet you didn’t think they’d accept my invitation.
You would win that bet.
Blowing him a kiss over her shoulder, she carried on to the greenhouse. She usually took off most of her weapons once inside the warm, humid haven, though she kept them within easy reach, but today she didn’t unstrap a single knife. It was one thing to try to get to know them, another to blindly trust a millennia-old force that had come out of nowhere, hum in the bones or not.
She was hyperconscious of the fighters standing silently on either side of the doorway while she checked her plants. When Montgomery, dressed as per usual in an elegant black suit, his shirt white, arrived with a tray of coffee and small, delicious things, she said, “Have I told you how much I love you, Montgomery?”
“Not today, my lady.”
Elena winced inwardly. The butler had become used to calling her “Guild Hunter,” and then the battle had happened and he’d reverted. “What did you bring?” she asked, knowing Montgomery would’ve already noted his mistake.
“Éclairs made fresh by Sivya, blueberry muffins, and fruit.” Pouring the coffee into a mug for her and adding two sugars, he placed it on her bench. “Would the gentlemen like a drink?”
Elena looked to the fighters, held up her mug in a silent question.
One of them finally spoke. “We do not require fuel.”
“Then I will leave you to your work, Guild Hunter.”
Figuring her two guests might have hit their limit when it came to new experiences, she returned to her plants . . . and became aware they’d closed the distance to her in deadly silence.
6
Skin prickling, she waited to see what they’d do.
Nothing.
Her eyes fell on the empty terra-cotta pots she’d lined up at the back of her bench. Inspired, she gave each fighter one, curious to see their response. “Could you fill these with soil for me? The bag’s over there.”
They moved to the bag as one and began to scoop out the rich potting soil using their hands. About to tell them to stop, put on gloves, she realized it would make no difference to the two. When asked, the Primary said the Legion were “of the earth, of life.” Now, as they dug their hands into the soil, she saw an unexpected easing in the shoulders of both males, their lashes lowering and chests expanding.