Archangel’s Ascension: Chapter 22

Raphael’s answer was simple. “I’ve known you two your entire lives.” Eyes of cerulean blue, endless in their depth, held Aodhan’s. “If you have need of it, you have my approval. I’m happy that you’ve made your way back to each other after the turmoil.”

Aodhan exhaled, unaware of how much he’d needed to hear those words of approval until they were spoken. It wasn’t about permission—Aodhan would ask no one for permission when it came to loving Blue. It was about seeing the quiet pride in Raphael’s eyes, in being reassured their sire saw no problem with two of his Seven being so entangled…and that the angel they’d once called Rafa saw their relationship and celebrated it.

“Illium is afraid,” he said, the words no betrayal when it came to this man who was more father to Illium than Aegaeon would ever be. “I left him once, so lost in my own pain that I didn’t see past his bright mask.”

Raphael didn’t break the searing eye contact, the midnight strands of his hair flowing back in a dark wave. “That you understand that is the first step.” A careful touch on Aodhan’s shoulder. “He waited two hundred years for you, Adi.” A gentle reminder that Raphael had known him through all the seasons of his life. “How long are you ready to wait for him?”

The answer took no thought at all. “Forever.”

A smile, Raphael’s wings aglow. “Then trust will come, his fear buried under the weight of decades of having you by his side.” He looked out at the city, its thousands of windows reflecting the sunlight to create a living fire. “I saw him after he helped carry the bier of his mortal friend Lorenzo. His heart was broken—and yet Illium cherishes his friend’s widow even knowing that she, too, will break his heart one day.”

Raphael’s lips kicked up in a smile awash in affection for the boy he’d helped raise to manhood. “Our Bluebell’s will to love is stronger than any fear. Especially when it comes to you.”

Shifting, Aodhan held out his forearm in the grip of warriors.

Raphael took it, his hold firm.

No words spoken, the contact enough. Aodhan had never shut Raphael out when it came to necessary touch, but he’d rarely ever initiated it. Not even when Raphael was the one who’d carried him out of the hellhole of his imprisonment, Aodhan’s broken, emaciated body cradled in his arms.

“Thank you, sire,” he said today, as they stood with their forearms linked. “For carrying me home.” His throat was thick as he said the words he’d never before vocalized. “For taking vengeance when I couldn’t, for making it so I never had to fear those monsters again, and for keeping a place for me in your Seven even when I lost myself.”

Raphael tugged at his forearm in a question.

Aodhan flowed forward into the other man’s embrace.

Holding him tight, warrior warmth and archangel heart, Raphael said, “Never do you have to thank me, Aodhan. You are mine, will always be one of mine even should you fly far from me one day. Vengeance was my right, and my protection yours.” His voice was rough. “I’m only sorry I wasn’t able to protect you from them.”

So many wounds, Aodhan thought, hearing the raw pain in his archangel’s voice. So many scars created by two vicious beings who’d wanted without reason or conscience. “They’re the only ones to blame,” he said. “I’ve come to accept that. Now you and Illium and the rest of the Seven who were there at the time have to accept it, too.”

They drew apart, two men who at this instant weren’t archangel and warrior, soldier and liege, only people who had indelible places in each other’s hearts. Because as Raphael would consider him his even should he fly from the Tower, Aodhan would consider Raphael an integral part of his family for all eternity.

“You always were wise,” Raphael murmured. “Do you remember the sketch you gave me the year after Aegaeon’s abandonment?”

Aodhan cocked his head in a silent question.

“An image of people wearing festival masks. It was excellent work for a child, but what has always stuck with me is your frustrated little face as you told me that you couldn’t draw all the masks.” A glow of power in his wings. “ ‘Some of them you can’t see, Rafa. They’re there but they look just like faces.’ ”

Aodhan felt his lips curve. “What an odd little child I must’ve been.”

Throwing back his head, Raphael laughed. “A most fascinating conversational companion.” But his gaze was serious when it locked with Aodhan’s again. “What happened knocked your confidence in your ability to spot those masks, but you’ve always had it. It’s good to see you trust in yourself again, Aodhan.”

“It feels good from the inside, too…Rafa.”

This time they laughed together, and if a passing wing of angels did a double take at the sight, well, Aodhan was starting to be all right with that kind of ordinary attention.

Navarro was waiting for Aodhan outside his home in the forested interior of the Enclave. A gracious dual-level building of warm golden brick, it was quiet, with no hint of staff moving about inside. The drive out to the road was a long and gently curving line shadowed by trees older than many a young angel in the Tower.

Navarro, too, had a sense of age and maturity that Aodhan had noticed from the very first time they’d met, his handsome face with its high cheekbones and angled jaw framed by long dark hair that went down to his waist. He often wore beads in that hair, or—as today—had a thin braid on one side around which was wrapped an intricate stack of threads in shades of red and black.

It should’ve made him look young, but his mien was too serious for that, his muscles used to being held with utmost control. In battle, he wasn’t a showy fighter, rather a man who made every motion count—and once, long ago, he’d trained both Illium and Aodhan close to the start of their journey as warriors. He still returned to the Refuge for a decade every century to do the same for each new intake.

Navarro was a teacher patient and calm.

“If you don’t mind,” the angel said, “I’d like to walk along the drive rather than go inside. That’s what I was doing prior to your arrival, but my wings are yet cramped from stuffing myself into that plane.”

He flexed his upper body, the wings he’d referenced akin to those of a red-shouldered hawk, the topmost feathers a distinctive reddish-brown shade that morphed into a repeating black-and-white pattern lower down that was breathtaking in flight. “The healers were stern in saying that I shouldn’t risk jostling them, and the trees on my land grow close to one another—else I’d suggest we walk among them.”

Despite the pragmatic words delivered in a gruff tone, his expression held both sorrow and anger.

“Thank you for making the effort,” Aodhan said, warrior to warrior, the two of them having long moved past the student-teacher relationship. “I’ve had the same wing injury—I know how much it must have pained you to sit for the journey, quite apart from the feeling of confinement.”

Navarro gave a clipped nod. “I’d already given my staff leave prior to my decision to return home early, so I can’t offer you much hospitality.”

“There’s no need.” Aodhan caught sight of an eagle sweeping in to land among the trees, but his attention was on the other angel. “That you came so far while injured tells me you valued Marco.”

“I would have come regardless. While under Contract, he was under my protection.” Then Navarro exhaled, his eyes focused into the distance. “But yes, Marco was a favorite.”

The angel took several quiet breaths before continuing. “He had a stable nature that’s rare in young vampires, a kind of innate balance. I saw him going far, and was much saddened when I first heard of his death, but then I thought him a casualty of war. A sorrowful thing, yes, but in a sense to be expected. War does not spare anyone.”

“Yes,” Aodhan said. “War follows a well-trodden path for all its violence, while this, what took Marco, came out of the shadows, unseen and unknown.”

Navarro’s long hair gleamed in the sunlight, its rays revealing the strands of red and bronze hidden among brown so dark, it was a breath away from black. “Marco was fresh faced and eager and ready to explore the world of immortals. But…there was a goodness in him.”

The angel halted in the shadow of a tree with a spreading canopy in which songbirds gossiped, unconcerned with the winged beings below. “Some people—mortal and immortal—seem to have a heart that does not darken no matter what. A resilience that is profound in its determination to stand strong against all attempts to alter them for the worse. Do you know what I mean?”

Aodhan met the other man’s gaze. “My best friend is Illium, Navarro.”

A warming of the rich brown eyes that had the slightest tilt at the corners. “Ah, I must be tired indeed to forget that—especially when Illium’s nature used to concern me when he was a fledgling. How, I thought, could a boy with such a heart survive the rigors of life?”

Hands behind his back, he clasped the wrist of one with the other. “It was much the same with Marco. So young, he hadn’t yet grown the warrior encasing necessary to guard his heart. I felt protective of him.” A tightening of his lips. “I didn’t favor him in any visible way—that would’ve only led to problems with his peers, but I did keep a closer eye on him.”

Aodhan didn’t interrupt.

“I only picked up that liquor shop because I intended for Marco to manage its future refurbishment and upgrade,” Navarro continued. “It wasn’t really my type of investment as it stood. I thought to have him manage it for a year or so in order to strengthen his administration and finance skills before I put him in charge of the upgrade.”

That the angel had been so thoughtful in his oversight of Marco’s development didn’t surprise Aodhan. Everything Navarro did was tempered and thorough.

“You knew he had a stalker.”

Beginning to walk again, Navarro frowned. “I knew he had an unwanted admirer, but her attentions seemed to peter out before the war. I assumed the infatuation had run its course.

“Prior to that, Marco did come to me to say an anonymous admirer had sent him gifts and letters. He didn’t want to keep them as he was much in love with his chosen partner, but with the giver refusing to reveal her identity, he couldn’t return the items.”

“What did you advise?”

“That he give them to me. I placed most in the safe, but I—with his permission—wore one of the most distinctive rings for over a month, at a time when I was mingling with angelkind at various events.”

“A silent statement that the gift was unwanted, had been passed on to his angel to curry favor.”

“That was my intent in wearing it—but it appears his admirer took it as a sign that I was appropriating Marco’s gifts. He received even more jewels, this time sent to his mother’s home. He continued to pass everything on to me to store in the safe until such time as he could return them. He was sure the admirer would approach him in person soon enough, as was I.” His muscles locked. “Neither one of us foresaw that it would be in murderous violence.”

One question answered at least. Marco hadn’t kept the gifted items. They’d been in his effects because Navarro had considered them part of Marco’s estate.

“We didn’t find any love notes or letters among his belongings.”

“No, I didn’t pass those on. Marco hadn’t wanted the attention, so why make his mother worry about his honor? The jewels and gloves, I thought she could sell. Marco always spoke about buying his mother a luxurious apartment once he held a more senior position with the attendant income.”

Aodhan wondered what Giulia would say when she realized the jewels had been purchased with her son’s blood? Then again, did she have to know? Could this not be a gift from a son to his mother, a mother who had no one else left? “Will you tell a lie for me, Navarro?”

The other angel looked at him, his gaze rich with empathy. Navarro might not see it, but his more solemn personality aside, the angel wasn’t so different from Illium and Marco. His heart remained defiant and unjaded.

Navarro’s next words confirmed Aodhan’s belief. “Marco’s mother. The jewels are a gift from me in honor of her son’s exemplary service. It is agreed.”

“Why aren’t you part of the Tower’s senior team?” Aodhan asked in genuine interest, because Navarro was far too stable and wise not to be more heavily utilized.

“I was once,” Navarro said, to Aodhan’s absolute astonishment. “Back when Raphael first ascended.” Clearly noticing Aodhan’s surprise, he smiled. “Raphael needed a transition team, and as he’d been one of my favorite students once, I volunteered. I don’t regret doing so, but I also don’t regret stepping down when others became available. I am not made for politics and an archangel’s senior court cannot avoid it.

“But I have a feeling I won’t be able to sidestep being recalled to the Tower much longer—Dmitri keeps threatening to haul me in kicking and screaming.” A scowl marred his expression. “Each time we meet for a drink, I warn him I’ll insult everyone and cause a war, and he tells me he doesn’t believe me.”

“Neither do I.” Aodhan could see the angel as the calm head of the negotiating table instead. “Thank you for agreeing to dissemble for Giulia. She’d never accept jewels touched by her son’s blood, but I think she’ll accept a gift from an angel who valued him. Even then, she’ll likely not accept the entirety of it.”

Navarro considered that. “Perhaps I will buy her that luxurious apartment when she attempts to return the jewels. I will say that it is what Marco wished to do, and I feel it my duty as the angel who failed to protect him.” His expression was grim. “I feel that responsibility. All that time, all those gifts. I thought it a foolish old angel with too much money and not enough sense, and didn’t treat it as seriously as I should have.”

“Did Marco tell you about a possible assault from the air on Tanika?”

A sharp glance. “No. When did this occur?”

“In the lead-up to the war.”

Navarro sighed. “He likely didn’t want to distract me from battle planning. Regardless, he should’ve been safe. He was to remain in the underground weapons repair area during the war—as safe a location as there can be in a conflict of that size. He had no real skills at repair; he was tasked with organizing the movement of weapons in and out, and doing anything else required by the armorers.”

“Something drew him out. A threat to Tanika?”

“Yes. I can think of nothing else that would’ve caused him to abandon his post—Marco was the kind of man who kept his word. His mother had already evacuated. I believed his young woman had as well, but I think now that she must’ve never gotten the chance.”

Taken, Aodhan thought, used as leverage. “The notes and letters? I would see them.”

“I am truly sorry, Aodhan. I destroyed them when I believed Marco lost in the war.”