Guild Hunter 01 - Angels' Blood

secret his own newfound gift. “What has age brought you?”
    Elijah’s smile was inscrutable. “But those are the secrets we keep.” He rose as Raphael did. “The hunter, you truly cared for her?”
    “Yes.”
    The other archangel put his hand on Raphael’s shoulder. “Then, I’m sorry.” His sympathy seemed honest. “Mortals . . . they burn so bright, but their light goes out too quickly.”
    “Yes.”
    Illium was waiting for him at the Tower. “Sire.” As with Dmitri and Venom, it was a title of respect, not truth.
    Elena would’ve questioned him about that had she been here. And she would’ve worried about her “Bluebell.” “How is your healing progressing?”
    Flaring out the wing that had borne the worst damage, Illium winced. “It’s almost complete.” He looked at Raphael’s healed body, a body that had been eaten through with an incredible amount of angelfire. “The difference between angel and archangel.”
    “Is age and experience.” Raphael went closer, looked at the wing . . . and laughed for the first time since the night he’d fallen with Elena. “Now I understand your expression.”
    Illium snorted. “I look like a damned duck.” His words weren’t far off the mark. The feathers that had grown over the injured section were soft, white, and delicately . . . fluffy. “I hope to hell these baby feathers fall off and get replaced by real ones. They will, won’t they?” He sounded worried.
    “Do they impede flight?” Having spoken to the healers and medics himself, he knew Illium had been permitted short bursts of flight.
    “No. But they’re not as efficient.” He stared down, swallowed. “Please tell me this is only a stage of healing. I’ve never had this happen before.”
    Raphael wondered what Elena would’ve done in this situation. Probably taken every opportunity to tease. His heart clenched. “They’ll shed within the month,” he said. “You lost so much of your wing when you hit the pier, including several layers of skin and muscle, that you’re effectively regrowing it from the inside out, instead of just replacing your feathers.”
    Relief whispered through Illium’s eyes as he dropped his wing. “Without anshara I’d still be lying in bed, unable even to move.”
    Raphael’s mind drifted back to those months when his own body had lain broken. The field had been isolated, his mental abilities young. Only the birds and Caliane had known he was there. “Yes.”
    “Sire . . . you’ve yet to punish me for losing Elena that day.” Illium’s features were drawn, his normally ebullient personality buried beneath the formal words. “I deserve to be censured. I am one of the Seven, one of your most experienced men, and I let her be taken.”
    Raphael shook his head. “It was no fault of yours.” He was the one who’d made the fatal mistake. “I should’ve known Uram could hasten his recovery through blood.”
    “Elena,” Illium began, then stopped. “No, questions are useless here. Just know that your Seven stand behind you.”
    Raphael watched the other angel leave via the balcony, then, after a moment’s pause, did the same himself. The wind lifted him up, his repaired body still aching but otherwise fine. He’d be back to total strength within a few weeks. Until then, his Seven would ensure his territory remained safe from covetous eyes.
    Lijuan and Michaela, likely Charisemnon and Astaad, too, would never understand that kind of loyalty. Perhaps only Elijah and, in this matter, Titus, had any hope of comprehending what the Seven had given him. Dmitri was the oldest, Venom the youngest, but together, the three vampires and four angels had been with him for a remarkable number of centuries, their allegiance unwavering—but that didn’t mean they were ciphers. No, his Seven had all fought with him at one time or another, arguing against his decisions even to the point of putting their lives on the line.
    Charisemnon had cautioned him about Dmitri more than once. “That vampire has ideas above his station,” the archangel had said. “If you’re not careful, he’ll take your Tower for his own.”
    And yet Dmitri had held off all challengers for the three months that Raphael lay in a healing coma. The first month, he’d gone so deep that he’d descended below anshara . Had Dmitri—or any of the six others—wanted to end his immortal life, they could’ve struck a deal with another archangel and betrayed his place of rest.