“Father,” she heard Eve say, “someone wants to talk to you.”

Elena could imagine her father’s raised eyebrow at anyone calling him on his daughter’s phone, knew he was most likely removing his wire-rimmed spectacles as he considered whether to take the call without asking for further information. CEO of a mega-empire with fingers in every pie in the city, Jeffrey was not a man who liked a lack of control.

Today, however, whatever he saw on Eve’s face had him coming on the line. “Jeffrey Deveraux.”

“It’s Ellie.”

The silence this time was piercing.

“We’ll talk more later. Tell Eve I’ll call back to let her know when she can visit.” Elena hung up with that—she felt cowardly for it, but a girl had her limits. She’d just emerged from a chrysalis that wanted to consume her like a tasty snack and her body was falling asleep around her; she wasn’t ready to deal with Jeffrey and the complicated history that tied them together.

An echo of memory, the scent of his aftershave suddenly bright and clear. He’d given her his scarf so she wouldn’t be cold. She’d accepted it because it wasn’t only pain that lay between them but a thousand childhood moments of happiness and family. Her and Jeffrey, they’d never be easy with one another, but at times, they managed to meet halfway, the recriminations and the hurt held at bay.

The brush of a slender hand on her brow. Sleep, azeeztee. Maman is here to watch over you. Don’t worry about your papa—I will make it right.

Even mostly asleep, Elena knew her mother was dead, that this was the phantom of a memory . . . but she decided to believe. Just for this fragment of a moment when she was hurt and tired and beginning again. “Maman . . .” The phone slipped unheeded from her fingers, her body crashing into sleep.

Lightning danced over her skin, her veins a glowing network hidden by the sheet.

12

Raphael knew why it was only Dmitri who’d come up to the balcony outside his and Elena’s living area. He and his second, they had a unique relationship. Raphael might’ve been several hundred years old when he first met Dmitri, but Dmitri had been a married man by then, a farmer confident in his skin and open in his love for his wife.

The two of them, they’d always met as equals.

As he stepped out onto the balcony, his second turned and looked at him with dark eyes that gave nothing away . . . but he strode across the space to meet Raphael halfway. They raised their right hands, clasped each other’s forearms, leaned in for the embrace of warriors. “It is good to have you back.” Dmitri’s voice was potent with emotions unspoken but understood. “I’m putting in for ten years’ vacation leave starting today.”

“That bad?” Raphael asked as they drew back.

“Charisemnon keeps trying his luck, Neha watches in enigmatic silence, Michaela’s disappeared into her mountains, and China’s lost so many people without explanation that large swathes of it are silent.”

“Michaela?” he said, picking out the most intriguing detail among all that Dmitri had recited.

His second folded his arms, biceps taut and skin a bronzed hue that would hold its color even in the heart of winter. “Jason’s confirmed she’s in her stronghold near Budapest, but she hasn’t been seen in flight for at least five months.” A shrug. “No one’s dared misbehave in her territory yet. Her generals have orders to kill at any sign of insurrection. That’s it. No other punishment. Straight up beheading. It’s efficient.”

Raphael couldn’t disagree with the admiration in Dmitri’s voice. It was a simple and effective way to keep a territory in control while the archangel in charge went dark. “It’s not unknown for archangels to go under for months at a time.” Even members of the Cadre occasionally needed time to simply exist.

Raphael was too young to feel the urge, but he knew his mother had taken such time during his years as a child. “Michaela’s not much older than I am.” A matter of five hundred years, give or take. “But she has recently had to deal with a meat ‘infant’ and possession by Uram. Perhaps it has put her in a bad mood.”

Dmitri barked out a laugh. “I can see her sitting in a funk in her stronghold. At least she’s not creating more problems. Charisemnon, on the other hand, is being an asshole—it’s only having Titus at his border that’s keeping him in check.”

“The birds and cats are Eli’s?”

A short nod. “I found a damn lynx on the hood of my Ferrari the other day. Thing snarled at me.” Scowling, he continued on. “In other interesting news, Suyin asked to relocate to New York and go into combat training. I authorized it, put her under Honor’s tutelage.”

Raphael raised an eyebrow. With skin of cool white and hair of ice white, her cheekbones sharp as blades, Lijuan’s niece could’ve been her aunt’s twin if not for her dark eyes and the beauty spot under the corner of her left eye—and her lack of a killing instinct. Suyin had been Lijuan’s prisoner for thousands upon thousands of years, a fragile artistic being so traumatized that she was fading from life when rescued.

Dmitri nodded. “I wasn’t expecting that, either, but Honor says she’s a quick study and determined to be ready to fight Lijuan when her aunt rises again.”

“A motive to be respected. Especially after the torture she suffered under Lijuan.”

His second’s expression was dark, but his tone pragmatic as he continued his update. “Haven’t heard much from Astaad and Alexander—they’ve both been busy coping with massive ice storms.”

Parts of Alexander’s desert territory were susceptible to ice, but Astaad’s territory was nearly all tropical. “The islands?”

Dmitri nodded. “Residents barely own cardigans, much less snow gear. I’ve sent supplies and so have Michaela and Lady Caliane.” He shoved a hand through the black of his hair. “That’s not all of it—Alexander’s also been hit with flash floods, while the monsoon season in Neha’s territory is threatening to become monsoon year.”

“Elijah?”

“Plagues of wasps. Swarms have killed at least ten people so far.” He braced his hands on his hips. “Titus and Charisemnon have the opposite problem to Neha: drought. Wildfires are running rampant across the savannah.”

“It’s gotten worse.”

A nod from his second. “We’ve been lucky in the scheme of things. A couple of torrential lightning storms, a few more minor geothermal issues in the area you already evacuated, and, bizarrely, an infestation of ladybug beetles in a small town. No damage from the bugs, but they creeped out a bunch of people.”

Dmitri cocked an eyebrow. “Did you know fear of ladybugs has a name? Coccinellidaephobia.”

It was an amusing thing he’d have to tell Elena. The rest however . . . “Favashi?”

“No sign of her since she disappeared into the lava with Cassandra. As for her territory—Lady Caliane keeps me updated when she isn’t threatening to boil me alive for not letting her see you, and she says that while Neha’s had to cope with some refugees from China, it’s nowhere near the number she expected. Not even after accounting for the vanished villages.”

“Lijuan’s people are loyal.” Many would say to the edge of madness. “Aodhan, Naasir, and Galen remain at the Refuge?”

“Yes. Galen wanted to send the others back to New York, but I told them to stay. I didn’t want to leave him without powerful backup.”

Raphael locked eyes with Dmitri. “What has happened?” Galen was Raphael’s weapons-master and well able to deal with any threat excepting attack by one of the Cadre.

“Things are moving under the Refuge.”

The Refuge never shook. Legend said it had been anchored by the cataclysmic power of Sleepers who wished never to wake. “Do not tell me you believe in the legend of the Ancestors, Dmitri?” Said to slumber below the Refuge, the Ancestors were whispered to be the first of Raphael’s kind, angels so old they were another species.

“Sire, at this point, I’m ready to believe in the fucking tooth fairy.”

Raphael clasped his second on the shoulder. “Thank you for holding my Tower safe.”

“Next time, I’d appreciate you warning your mother that you’re about to take a nap.” A black scowl. “Lady Caliane’s last threat included having me drawn and quartered.”

“You survived.” That he had was a measure of his mettle; Raphael’s mother, after all, was an Ancient.

Dmitri’s next question was quiet. “Elena?” A worry in his dark eyes that would astonish Raphael’s consort, the two were such determined adversaries.

“The Cascade has underestimated my hunter’s will.” He opened out his wings to check their status. They remained aflame but the odd feather was beginning to show through, so the white fire was apt to settle in the coming hours. “I must go and close the chasm from which Elena and I arose.”

“Raphael.” Arms folded again and feet set apart, Dmitri got in his way. “Contact your mother before you go or I swear I’ll tie your wings together and drag you inside to make the call.”

The cold power in him whispered for him to take offense at such insubordination, but Raphael had no intention of becoming its puppet. “I will do it as soon as I fulfil a promise to Elena.” Dmitri was right—Caliane might’ve once been mad, might’ve left him bleeding and broken in a forgotten field, but she’d risen sane and she’d been firmly on his side since.

Nodding, Dmitri left to return to his duties, while Raphael swept off the balcony to head to the storage unit where Elena kept her childhood. She visited the space regularly, made sure her things were free of dust, told him stories about pieces when he was with her, but while she’d given her sister Beth anything she wanted from within, she’d never brought a single item home herself. Today, however, when he returned with the quilt and opened it over her, she tugged it closer and snuggled down.