Archangel's Legion (47 page)

Something slammed into the Tower moments later, blowing out the windows of their suite and covering them in a coat of splinters.

•   •   •

A
n hour later, and with dawn at least another sixty
min-utes away, Raphael knew they had to move. The Tower had taken heavy structural damage despite their deflective efforts. Lijuan hadn’t risen, but her generals were
all
recovered and at full strength, while his strongest aerial fighters—Illium, Aodhan, Jason—were battling through crushing fatigue to repel the blasts.

Once more, Raphael had to fight his instincts to go out there, join in the effort. If he did, he’d lose what little strength he’d regained, and Lijuan would have no impediment to her next attack. As it was—“Naasir.” He jerked up his head as the vampire ran into the war room, bleeding from a massive wound on his face.

Elena ripped open a sterile packet from the first aid supplies and pressed the heavy cotton dressing to the vampire’s face to soak up the blood. Not pushing her away, which told Raphael how badly he was hurt, Naasir went to his knees, Elena beside him, but the vampire’s silver eyes were locked on Raphael. “Lijuan is absorbing power,” he said. “All her injuries are healed and she now works to bloat herself with energy. Come dawn, she’ll be as powerful as when she began the battle.”

“How?” Raphael asked, as Elena pulled the dressing off to expose a raw gash, a flap of skin hanging down over Naasir’s cheekbone, bone and muscle exposed.

As she grabbed the small butterfly bandages that would keep the flesh in place while Naasir healed, the vampire spoke of horror. “She has truly become an Archangel of Death. I saw her slit the throat of one of her fighters herself, to the point of near decapitation—she then thrust her face into the bleeding gash and seemed to feed.”

“Because she couldn’t get any more creepy.” Elena continued to pin Naasir’s flesh together, and it was only when she nudged the vampire forward a little that Raphael realized Naasir’s spine had almost been cleaved in two. The fact the vampire had been able to run, much less stand, spoke of his strength.

Now, he gave a feral grin, clearly amused by Elena’s words. “It takes her twenty minutes at least to drain the life out of one of her people. The fighter I saw was a mummified husk when she was done; that was when she moved on to the next volunteer, her face a mask of blood.” He growled without warning, eyes flashing.

“I’m sorry.” Elena continued to work at his back. “I need to pull the flesh together or your spine will be exposed to the air and it’ll take longer to heal.” Not stopping in her task despite the constant low-level growl, Naasir’s fingers claws, she said, “That’s how she’s been fixing her generals.”

Raphael nodded, considering why Lijuan hadn’t done this earlier. Likely because it, too, was a limited power, something she could only do once within a certain period. Not that it mattered—because the fact was, he couldn’t hope to defeat a full-strength Lijuan in ordinary combat, not after she’d worn him down to a threadbare edge.

Rising to his feet, his back held together by larger bandages that worked the same as the butterfly ones on his face, Naasir turned to offer Elena a hand. She took it and he hauled her up. Then, grabbing her around the waist, he lifted her up and brought her startled face close to his own.

Raphael?

He won’t hurt you.

Elena made a squeaking sound as Naasir nipped her sharply on the chin. “I’ve decided I won’t eat you,” he said, putting her down on her feet before turning to Raphael. “Lijuan’s forces have harried ours over the night hours, but most have rested. They will launch a major offensive with the dawn.”

“Thank you, Naasir. Go and feed—we’ll move very soon against the enemy.” He couldn’t afford to give Lijuan any more time to glut herself with power.

The vampire left with a curt nod for him and a grinning and unexpected snap of his teeth for Elena. Seeing the expression on her face, Raphael almost smiled. Naasir would’ve no doubt fascinated and confused her for some time to come, but his consort wouldn’t see the end of this day if they were to stop a monster. “It’s time, Elena.”

Should they succeed in their final act, Lijuan’s forces would still outnumber the Tower’s, but Raphael’s people were smart and they thought for themselves, while Lijuan’s were tied to her. If Raphael and Elena took her out of the equation, not only would her generals lose their power, the enemy’s entire command structure would collapse. He had every faith the members of his Seven would utilize that fracture to hold on and claim victory. “We can wait no longer.” And it wasn’t only New York at stake—fighting had broken out in the Refuge an hour past, and Raphael knew whatever happened in his city would end the battle in the Refuge, one way or another.

A frown, Elena’s eyes going to his temple. “You’re rubbing the mark.”

Dropping his hand, Raphael stared at it. “I did not realize.”

“Does it hurt?” She brushed her fingers delicately over it.

“No, but it pulses.” Like a heartbeat. “That pulsing has increased in strength over the past hours.” Shaking his head, he cupped Elena’s face, a cut under her eye and across one cheek, her arms bearing countless nicks from the exploding windows and earlier skirmishes. Her body, too, was nearly at its limit, its ability to heal sluggish.

“I do not like that your colors are hidden.” She’d found some brown dye, used it on her hair and wings in a bid to keep Lijuan from immediately realizing who it was that flew beside Raphael.

“It’ll wash off with a couple of soapings. I’ll do it after we take care of Lijuan.” Nothing less than total confidence in her tone, though they both knew they might soon share their final kiss. “
Knhebek
, Raphael
.
”

“You are my heart.” The amber in the ring she’d given him glowed pure and beautiful as he took her mouth, passionate and with as brilliant a heart as his warrior.

•   •   •

T
wenty minutes later, he stood on the cracked but still
hold-ing balcony outside the war room and met Illium’s and Jason’s eyes, Elena by his side. The two angels would run interference in the hope Lijuan didn’t realize Raphael’s intent until it was too late—both could well lose their lives.

“Whatever price we pay this day,” he said, “whatever the outcome, know that I am proud to have had your loyalty.” On the mental plane, he made sure his message reached Aodhan and Dmitri, who even now watched their backs, and Naasir, who fought on the ground. The others would make sure his words were passed on to Galen and Venom, the two locked in battle as the peace of the Refuge was splintered with violence. “It is a point of great honor in my life.”

Both bowed their heads, but it was Jason who spoke. “The honor is, and will always be, ours,” he said, as Aodhan deflected another fury of blows aimed at the Tower. One got through, the balcony shuddering.

All four of them instinctively adjusted their stance to keep their feet.

“Did you manage to see Mahiya?” Elena asked his spymaster, and it was the question of a consort.

Jason’s face betrayed none of his emotions as he inclined his head, whatever had been shared between him and his princess, who’d worked in the infirmary throughout the fighting, a private matter. Raphael hoped it wouldn’t be the final conversation the two would ever have, for Jason had earned his happiness. To have it stolen from him, a bare heartbeat after he’d found it, would be a great unfairness—but as they had all learned in the preceding days, sometimes good did not prevail, evil triumphant.

Today, they’d do one final thing to change that, turn the tide. The ordinary fighters were ready to start the attack the instant they took off, forcing Lijuan’s forces to move before they were ready. Rocket launchers would be used to take out groups of enemy angels, his remaining winged fighters instructed to do everything in their power to create those groups by pushing the enemy together.

Those fighters understood that it was likely they, too, would die in the blasts. “If I take five of them with me,” one of his commanders had said, “it will be a sacrifice well made.”

Turning to Elena, his pride in his people absolute and the mark on his temple pulsing so hard that it seemed impossible no one else could see the movement, he said, “Ready,
hbeebti
?”

Elena notched a bolt into her crossbow. “Let’s go kill that murderous bitch.”

Snapping out their wings on her vow, Raphael, Elena, and his men were about to fly out through the bombardment that continued to shake the Tower when a bloodied angel came to a crash landing in front of Raphael, his blood splattering on the thin layer of snow. A crossbow bolt was embedded in his stomach.

“Azar.”
Raphael knelt beside the advance scout, Jason beside him, while Illium took off to assist Aodhan in deflecting the blows now aimed at the balcony on which they stood.

“What are you doing here?” Jason asked the fallen angel. “You were stationed on the edge of the city.”

Gripping Jason’s hand as Elena called for the medics, Azar’s mouth bubbled with blood, the fluid crimson against his gleaming black skin in the dull light of the time before dawn. “I couldn’t get through on the communication lines, Sire. And you had to know.”

Raphael connected with the scout’s mind to make communication easier. While Raphael was always open to his Seven, Azar wouldn’t have been able to initiate such contact, especially from a distance.
What do you have to report?

Another assault force,
the slim angel said, green eyes dark with pain, for while angels could heal many wounds, those wounds did not hurt any less.
On the horizon, perhaps five minutes behind me. I left as soon as I spotted them, but they are so fast
—a dangerous assessment from a scout known for his extraordinary speed—
they gained on me with every wingbeat.

Raphael looked at the devastated city around them, the Tower’s smashed walls and splintered windows, considered the number of fighters injured or dead, and knew his people simply could not survive against another fresh force, no matter how huge their hearts.
Estimated numbers?

Hundreds, Sire. They flew in the most perfect fighting formation I’ve ever seen.

44

H
anding Azar over to the healers, Raphael shared the
information the scout had flown through enemy fire to deliver. “We go now and we do as much damage as possible to give our people a chance,” he said, as realization formed a layer of grim ice in Dmitri’s expression, his second having stepped out onto the balcony.

Illium, back with them, swore under his breath, next to a quietly stoic Jason.

Elena’s expression was a study in fury, and it made him want to smile even in this moment, for she was a woman any man would be proud to have by his side on the eve of the greatest battle of his life. “Warn our people,” he said to Dmitri, “and tell them that if there comes a time when there is no hope of victory, they do not dishonor me by choosing to retreat or surrender. With Lijuan gone from the world, they will not have to serve under evil.”

Dmitri’s eyes held his.
I’ll make it known, but I’ll never serve anyone except you.

I know, old friend. Were it my choice, I would leave my city and my territory to no other angel, but to my second.

Fly strong, Raphael.

Fight well, Dmitri.

Wings snapping out, he swept off the Tower with Elena, Illium, and Jason, the four of them winging their way directly to the heart of Lijuan’s operation, hoping to take her unawares. Crossbow bolts filled the air as soon as they came within range. Jason and Illium were fast enough to avoid them; Elena wasn’t, but she was very good at shooting her own bolts in flight, slamming two home between the eyes. The shooters quickly grew wary of giving her a target.

They’d just crossed the border that divided their perimeter line from the enemy’s attacking front, the mark pulsing hot and urgent under his skin, when Raphael saw the wave of dark gray on the lightening horizon, the line shifting to encircle the entire stage of battle.

Watch out!

Twisting sideways at Illium’s warning, he barely avoided the hail of blades that was Lijuan’s power, as Elena, Illium, and Jason engaged the enemy fighters that sought to disable Raphael’s wings. Having materialized above him, the Archangel of China was attempting to shred him with her poisonous fire.

Coaxing the last of the wildfire inside him to the surface and drawing on the fire that lived in Elena, too, he blocked Lijuan’s next barrage with ordinary angelfire and, ignoring the crossbow bolt that thudded into his shoulder, flew up, his aim to make physical contact.

Except she dematerialized without warning, her strength renewed. And when she rematerialized to the left, she managed to score him with a whip of black poison. Vicious pain stabbed through his flesh as the wildfire inside him sought to cauterize the wound and he blocked the healing—he couldn’t afford to lose the last of it, of the only thing that could hurt Lijuan.

Dropping down beside him with a gloating smile, eyes virulent red, Lijuan said, “I give you one final chance to surrender, Raphael,” her face a skeletal mask. “I do not intend to kill you, not any longer.” She made certain not to come within touching distance. “You will be much, much more useful to me in other ways.”

Raphael thought of the desiccated corpses found in her territory, of the fighter Naasir had seen go to his death, and knew Lijuan sought to feed on an archangel. “A very generous offer,” he said aloud, while his mind reached for Dmitri’s.
You must make sure the remainder of the Cadre knows Lijuan seeks to feed off not only angels, but archangels.

I’ll ensure the message gets through,
came the immediate reply.
Sire, the new assault force has arrived and will swarm the Tower in minutes if we don’t do something to stop them. I’ve authorized the use of any and all weapons at our disposal.