Enemy angel, she said, having caught sight of his glance. Someone cut off his head in the sky and he bled all over me as he fell. Her voice was grim as she continued. We lost two archers on the roof I was on. Two more are badly wounded.
Four. It wasn’t a huge number . . . unless you considered how long this war would likely rage, and how few people his side had in comparison to Lijuan’s. With that in mind, he shifted the oncoming strategy meeting to the infirmary. He might be able to heal enough warriors that his forces could hold the line until Elijah’s army arrived.
Ahead of them, the Primary landed on the Legion building. Raphael had seen the gray-winged fighters in the thick of battle. If one fell, another rose in his place. They were Raphael’s greatest advantage. Seven hundred and seventy-seven warriors who couldn’t be killed. Except . . .
“Something is wrong, Guild Hunter.” He dropped into a rapid descent.
The Primary was crouched over one of his people who lay on his back on the ground, one hand clutching at his chest as he coughed black liquid out of his mouth.
“What is this?” As far as Raphael knew, the Legion were invulnerable to disease.
“Death,” the Primary said in a voice that held a chorus of hundreds. He slipped out his sword and, looking into the eyes of the other fighter, sliced the cutting edge straight through the other’s neck, severing the head from the body.
The body didn’t dissolve into dust as the Legion always did when they fell in battle. It began to liquefy into a noxious sludge that had the Primary looking to Raphael. “You must end this, sire,” he said as Elena landed beside Raphael.
Raphael torched the dead Legion fighter with angelfire . . . but parts of the corpse yet moved in the aftermath.
“Hell.” Elena touched his arm . . . and a lick of wildfire jolted into him even as she gasped. The wildfire tasted of her. Of defiant life.
He used a droplet of what she’d given him to eliminate the last pieces of the corpse before glancing at the Primary. “Do you feel him regenerating?”
The Primary shook his head. “His body was consumed. We are now seven hundred and seventy-six in flesh.”
“I’m sorry.” Elena placed her hand on the Primary’s shoulder, her expression scored with pain. “I know you’ve been together eons.”
Cocking his head to look up at her, the Primary said, “He is not lost. He is part of us. Only his body has been destroyed.”
Raphael had never quite understood the level to which the Legion were enmeshed, but he was glad to hear they hadn’t permanently lost one of their own. “Was he hit by Lijuan’s power?”
“No. He was bitten by one of her angelic fighters.”
“Bitten?” Elena shoved a flyaway strand of hair impatiently behind her ear. “Like a vampire?”
“The angel sank his teeth into the arm.” The Primary indicated his biceps area. “Others have also been bitten but none of mine.”
Raphael took off without warning at the same instant that Elena said, “Raphael! Go!” His flight buffeted Elena and the Primary into flattened positions on the roof, his wings white fire.
He landed on the infirmary balcony in a matter of split seconds, ran inside.
“Sire!” Nisia looked to him with desperate eyes from her position kneeling on a bed. It held brown-haired and blue-eyed Andreja, her wings a slightly darker shade of brown than the rich mahogany of her hair. The tall and muscled angel was twisting and fighting the hands that sought to hold her down for Nisia’s attempts at healing.
Her bare leg was bloody from an injury, but that wasn’t what caught Raphael’s attention. An ugly blackness coughed from Andreja’s mouth, stark against the cream of her skin.
Placing his hand on the angel’s breastbone, Raphael punched in the tiniest possible droplet of the wildfire Elena had given him.
Wildfire hurt Lijuan, was not meant for even old angels.
The tough canvas of Andreja’s fighting tunic disintegrated in a scorched burst where he’d touched her. She screamed, high and agonized, before collapsing. The visible bite mark on the decaying flesh of her arm crackled with wildfire.
That didn’t stop Nisia from putting her hands on the angel. “She’s alive. Laric, finish stitching up your patient, then attend to Andreja’s leg.”
The younger healer nodded, his head bare today. Though he continued to wear a cape over his damaged wings, his hood had fallen off in the chaos of having to deal with so many badly injured patients. It was the first time Raphael had seen the thick, deep auburn of his hair touched by light.
“Watch for the infection and tell me if it returns,” Raphael said, catching a glimpse of stormfire wings in his peripheral vision. “Where are the others who came in with bites?”
There were five in all and he was able to drive the black poison from all of them—at a speed that gave him hope that the wildfire could cause Lijuan significant damage. Andreja was already conscious and sitting upright by the time he reached the last of the bitten.
“Sire,” she rasped after he was done, her voice holding the cadence and rhythm of her long-ago homeland in what was now the far edge of Michaela’s territory. “Inside, the blackness, it eats at the soul. It wants to devour and dominate.”
Laric moved quietly to assist Andreja, kneeling down in front of her so he could begin to work on the open wound on her leg. She looked down at the top of his head, then moved her hand to put her fingers below his chin, tilt up his head.
Wait, hbeebti, he said when he felt Elena stiffen beside him. Andreja is not a cruel angel.
Today, she took in the dark pink scars that ridged the white of Laric’s face. They went from just below his hairline all the way through to his throat and farther. Of his face, only a single section around his left eye and cheekbone was smooth and unmarked. His shoulders had gone rigid at Andreja’s actions, his hands motionless on her flesh.
“Hvala, small one,” the female angel said with a slow smile that held not pity but something that had color crawling under Laric’s skin before he ducked his head and began to work on her leg again. “You have gentle hands.”
Ooooooh. With that, Elena tugged Raphael away and out of the infirmary. “Did she just hit on Laric?” she asked outside, a grin curving her features.
“He could do far worse.” Of an age that she saw below the skin, Andreja would have a care for the wounded angel’s body—and heart. “From what I have seen, she does not mind being the one who initiates a courtship, but she will not coerce or force if Laric indicates he doesn’t welcome her attentions.”
“I hope she gets a chance to find out.” Elena’s smile faded, the small moment of happiness dying under the weight of war. “What she said about the effect of the bite . . . Death’s not the aim, is it? If it happens, it’s as part of a process to a kind of reborn state.”
“I fear you are right.” He brushed the back of his hand over her cheek. “Elena, my wildfire isn’t regenerating fast enough to repel Lijuan should she strike again today.”
A tightening at the corners of her eyes.
He kissed her before she could speak. I have no regrets. Without his Elena by his side, he wouldn’t have wanted to fight for the world, wouldn’t have wanted to save it. I would rather fall as Raphael than win as a puppet of the Cascade.
Her lips trembled as they parted. “I would still rather die as Elena than live as a shadow.”