Archangel’s Ascension: Chapter 10

Dmitri’s mental voice was as intense as the darkness of his eyes.

He held the other man’s gaze.

Dmitri, a man who had an intimate understanding of violence, gave a small nod.

Aodhan had expected a question from Illium at the pause that had gone on too long, but when he glanced at the blue-winged angel, he saw that Illium was focused on Dmitri, his expression stark.

Of course he’d understood without explanation. Illium’s emotional intelligence was one of his greatest gifts. Aodhan also knew that Illium would never ask him to betray Dmitri’s confidence—a confidence he’d shared while Aodhan lay broken in the Medica. Not just in the body, but in the mind.

Then, while Aodhan lay silent, Dmitri had told him the story of a mortal who had loved his wife and children with wild joy, and who had been best friends with a young angel who would one day become an archangel. And he’d told the story of how an angel obsessed with the mortal had murdered his entire family and Made him a vampire without his consent.

The monster had forced Dmitri to watch his son suffer in agony so terrible and without end that Dmitri’d had to make the choice to end his beloved boy’s life. “I had to snap my Misha’s neck,” Dmitri had said, his voice a harsh rasp. “My smart, loving boy who I’d promised to protect forever. I had only ashes to bury of my Ingrede and our sweet baby girl.

“I broke, Aodhan. Into so many pieces that I wasn’t even a ghost in the world. I wanted only to do violence until the horror of it overwhelmed my anguish. I was a vicious thing bent on destruction and excess, whatever it took to drown out what I had done…and what I had failed to do. It took me centuries to become a whole man again.

“So I won’t tell you it’ll be an easy journey, but you’ll survive. I did so on memories of the love I shared with Ingrede and our children, and the friendship of an angel who fucking wouldn’t let go. I won’t let you go, either.” Dmitri’s grip had been gentle but unrelenting on Aodhan’s fragile bones. “And we both know Illium will follow you into the place the mortals call hell if that’s what it takes to bring you home.”

Aodhan had cried for Dmitri as he couldn’t cry for himself, and Dmitri had held him, allowing him to find surcease in his sorrow for another. They’d spoken many times over the centuries while Aodhan was lost, and each and every time, Dmitri had been unshakable in his faith in Aodhan’s internal strength.

“Not necessary,” he’d said when Aodhan finally walked out of the abyss and apologized to the second for letting him down with how long he’d been lost. “In my lost years, while I appeared present, I was determined to surrender myself to every bad and terrible thing I could. We all heal in our own way.”

Now, that same man gave a crisp nod. “Giulia believes the stalker angel murdered the mortal Marco loved”—a voice that was an unsheathed blade—“and that Marco got caught in the cross-fire.”

“It might have been deliberate,” Aodhan suggested through the gridlock of memory. “If I can’t have you, no one can.”

Hands braced on his hips, Illium hissed out a breath. “You know, there’s a good chance Marco proposed to his girlfriend. A lot of that going around during the war. That could’ve pushed the obsessed angel over the edge.”

“Yes, I can see that.” Dmitri continued to watch the wing, this time without distance in his gaze. “Whatever the truth, we have no proof as yet. All we have is a dead couple in a burned-down building. See what you can do. If you can track down the angel, I’ll take care of the rest.”

Dmitri glanced over, eyes narrowed.

A pause, his hand flexing open.

“I e-mailed the complete files to you both.” The second turned to Illium. “Not quite the welcome I would’ve wanted for you.”

Illium—who’d wiped the stricken look off his face before Dmitri glimpsed it—shrugged. “This? Pfft, it’s nothing. Did I tell you about the boiling pit of putrid black that opened up under a house in China and just swallowed it? Now it bubbles away, like some primordial soup from which Lijuan will emerge as a fetid slime monster.”

Dmitri’s lips curved. “I hope it’s some distance from Suyin’s citadel?”

“Thank the Havens.” Illium made a face. “But yeah, compared to that, this is roses. I mean, how hard can it be to identify a random angel in a city full of angels—especially in the aftermath of a war that messed up the usual investigative processes and destroyed multiple databases. Easy. We’ll be done by lunch.”

Dmitri’s faint smile turned into a grin. “It’s good to have you home.”

Words Suyin had spoken to Aodhan in China. They held a keen truth.

Illium’s light came from within, and it was a treasure beyond price to those who were lucky enough to be in its radius.

As they flew to the site of what was most likely a double murder, Illium tried to trust what Aodhan had said to him about being all right with this—but if he was being honest, it was hard. Really fucking hard.

It took conscious concentration on his part not to blurt out the question, not to attempt to shield Aodhan from that which might dig up the ugly phantoms of the past. The last time Illium had attempted that, it had led to the biggest fight of their friendship.

No, Aodhan wasn’t broken anymore. Not on any level. He was a powerful warrior who was choosing to face the horror of his past head-on—and Illium had promised him that he wouldn’t give in to his overprotective urges where the other man was concerned.

Illium groaned as thick gray clouds began to move in from the ocean on a biting breeze.

Aodhan angled his wings to the left to lean into a current.

Illium flew around in a wider arc, so that they were side by side.

Aodhan’s smile was slow, the shake of his head exasperated.

Their lighter mood, however, stood no chance against the despair of the burned-down shop, which had been left as it was, caution tape fluttering all around it. While the shop’d had hard drinkers for clientele, the area wasn’t a dead end or murky zone that came awake only at dusk—the places around it were doing a brisk business.

A kebab shop sent enticing aromas into the air, two people queued outside what looked to be a clothing alterations place, while next door to the scene was a neat and tidy electrical shop that boasted they could repair any small household electrical item in One hour or your money back. Gino never lies!

“I’d have thought someone would’ve tried to clean up the scene,” Illium said. “Seems like that kind of neighborhood.”

“Navarro’s staff likely put out the word that no one was to touch it until he recovered—and since he sent the file to the Tower, I’d say he took Giulia Corvino’s concerns seriously.”

Illium went to reply when someone bustled out of the electrical shop. A short, rotund man with a black mustache that had been oiled or conditioned within an inch of its life, and hair as thick and abundant. He wore crisp black pants paired with an equally crisp shirt in a pale pink.

“Angels!” He beamed at them as he hurried over. “Giulia, she said the Tower was going to send people to look at this terrible situation. God rest their souls, that wonderful boy of hers and his sweet girl.”

Bowing his head, he muttered a prayer under his breath before he looked up again. “But I thought she’s grieving, it’s not a real thing. Hard to have this kind of a ruin in the neighborhood especially as we’ve fixed up most other things, but we all knew Marco, know Giulia. We can wait, we decided together, until she’s ready.”

That entire spiel had been directed at Illium, which wasn’t exactly a surprise. Aodhan’s Blue was well known around the city, not just for the flamboyant color of his wings, but because he could as often be seen on the ground as he could in the sky. Illium patronized mortal businesses, had mortal friends.

Aodhan, by contrast, most often flew high in the sky—where his looks wouldn’t attract attention. He did have mortal friends these days, one of his closest being the hunter, Demarco, but he’d grown up being an anomaly even among angelkind, his skin drawing light as if it were a faceted diamond. His hair was the same, as were the filaments of his wings. Every part of him shone, until it hurt the eye for others to look at him in bright sunlight.

At least the clouds that had moved in over the past twenty minutes meant he wasn’t a star standing on the street. He remained, however, a stranger to this mortal—while Illium, though he might’ve never before spoken to him, wasn’t.

“Gino?” Illium said when the man paused to take a breath.

His eyes went huge. “How do you know of Gino, angel?”

When Illium pointed at the sign outside the electrical shop, the man slapped his thighs and laughed uproariously. “For a minute, I thought you were in my head.” He used a neatly folded handkerchief to mop at his perfectly dry forehead. “So you’ve come to see about Marco and his girl? I don’t know her name, poor soul.”

“Tanika,” Illium told him. “Gino, since you seem to know the situation here, what’s your take on the fire?”

The other man pressed his lips together, his forehead furrowed. “We had to evacuate, you know, because of the war. I knew Marco would have to stay—he was under Contract, but he had no reason to be “His angel only bought it maybe ten months before the war, I think. Marco told me the plan was to gut it, make it real nice, you know? Fit the rest of the neighborhood. So the angel wasn’t going to waste someone to safeguard it during the war; if it fell, what does he care? He can build new from the ground up exactly how he likes.”

That was a piece of information they hadn’t previously had, but it was also unlikely to be useful in unearthing the murderer.

“I helped the boy lock it all up,” Gino continued. “He was having trouble with the burglar shutters—usually this neighborhood is safe. We all keep an eye out and most of us live above our shops or close by. But we thought with the city empty, maybe the riffraff would try their luck, so up went the shutters. I mean, possible bad luck from a war strike is no reason to get sloppy. Why let good stock go to waste?”

“Were any of the other businesses damaged?” Illium asked, while Aodhan continued to hold his silence.

“No looting or anything like that,” Gino said. “A couple of us had damage to the roof from the battles in the sky, and two or three came back to a cracked or broken window. I got that burn mark on my wall, but I got asked by Marco’s angel’s people to leave it, not paint it over yet.” A pause, his hand rising to make a religious symbol. “But yes, as for damage, we were lucky.

“Three streets over, all the shops were vaporized—just poof, gone and only dust left—but the archangel is good. He promised to rebuild and now they have brand-new shops, and everyone got a payment so they could start restocking. That’s being a good archangel, isn’t it?”

“Yes. The sire knows how to care for the people under his reign.” Illium’s words held a formality that betrayed nothing of his own familiar relationship with Raphael—because to most mortals, Raphael needed to remain a powerful and distant figure. “Is there anything else you think we should know?”

“He was a good boy, Marco. Even after he was Made. Didn’t forget us, put on any airs. Still brought his busted electronics for me to fix.”

Aodhan spoke up. “So he was part of this community even before he took over the liquor shop?”

Gino shot him the barest glance before looking away and back at Illium, but didn’t clam up. “Oh yes. Used to help out at Giulia’s deli down the block—she hasn’t reopened, hasn’t had the heart to.” His face dropped. “But that’s why Marco ended up in the shop in the first place—the angel wanted this kind of location and Marco knew old Olaf had been wanting to sell, so he arranged it all.

“Got Olaf a real fair price, too. A nice boy, like I said. Worked hard, don’t know why he wanted to be a vampire and drink blood, but…” A shrug, as if to say he couldn’t explain the vagaries of people. “He never tried to suck anyone’s blood around here, laughed like a lunatic when I asked him about it.” A sad smile. “Had a good laugh, that kid.”

“We’ve heard that another woman may have been interested in him.” Aodhan kept it vague so as not to influence the mortal man in any direction.

“Pah, Marco didn’t talk to old Gino about those kinds of things. You should ask his friends.” A nudge of his head down the street. “Two of ’em hang out at the corner.” His lip curled up. “I told Marco he shouldn’t be hanging with them no more. Bums. Live at home, no job, pants halfway down their butts.”

“Did he have other friends?” Illium asked. “People who’d know him well?”

“Giulia’s the one to ask. They were close—she raised him all alone after his papa died when he was eleven.”

They spoke to Gino for several more minutes before it became clear that he’d already shared all he had to tell them. When he saw a customer heading into his shop, he said a swift goodbye then ran off to do business.

Others in the street had come out and were sweeping the curb in front of their properties, or whispering to each other while shooting glances at Illium and Aodhan.

Turning deliberately to look at the scene, Aodhan gave them his back.

, he said to Illium.

Illium shifted so that they stood side by side, their wings held tight to their backs.

No contact. No hint of their personal relationship.

It meant nothing except that they were both highly trained warriors maintaining discipline on the city streets.

Illium pointed. “From the photos, Marco and Tanika were pretty much in the center of the shop.”

Aodhan’s mind was on the same path. “The blaze started with their bodies.” He glanced at the scorched wall of Gino’s shop. “No windows on the side facing the fire, solid concrete wall. Confirms that the containment of the fire tells us nothing.”

“Yeah. Fire had nowhere to go, no more fuel to consume after it ate through Marco’s shop.”

Aodhan shifted to examine the scene from another angle as a woman crossed the street to approach Illium—no doubt seeing Gino chatting to him had given her the courage to do the same, but she’d still had to build herself up to it. She was tugging her oat-colored cardigan around her, her thin face pinched but determined and her gaze pinned on Illium.

Already, Aodhan could see others readying themselves to do the same, all of them wanting to impart what they knew and willing to brave their fear of powerful angels to do so, because this, what had happened here, was wrong.

Illium moved to meet the first woman, graceful and strong and with a heart that refused to stop loving even when it hurt him.