Guild Hunter 03 - Archangel's Consort

“Jockeying for power, Favashi?”
    “In all honesty, Raphael, I enjoy being queen of my territory. It’s large and I am treated as a goddess.” A thick fringe of lashes came down over her soft brown eyes as she shook her head. “More land would, at present, cause me nothing but problems.”
    Raphael wasn’t certain he believed her, but he gave a small nod. “I’ll let you know if I hear anything of note about Elijah.” Ending the call, he turned to the vampire who’d stood out of sight in the corner. “What do you think?”
    “I think she is sweet poison.” Dmitri stepped closer, his face set in brutal lines. “Power is what she is and what she knows.”
    “You are hardly an impartial judge when it comes to Favashi.”
    A tic beat in Dmitri’s jaw. “I was a young fool and she played me. But you can’t say I don’t learn my lessons.”
    “She’s a beautiful woman. And apparently you are a great lover.”
    The vampire shot him a dark glance. “I believe your hunter is rubbing off on you. It is not a compliment.”
    Raphael felt his lips curve. “Find out if any of Jason’s people know what’s happening with Elijah.” Raphael intended to talk to the other archangel himself, but honorable as he seemed, Elijah was Cadre, well tutored in the art of deception.
    Dmitri was already pulling out his cell phone. “Favashi . . . I once saw her rip a vampire’s still-beating heart out of his chest and hold it in front of him until he died because the male dared disobey an order. She’s no vulnerable princess, for all she likes to use that image to her advantage.”
    “The vampire challenged her power, Dmitri. You know as well as I that she could not let it go.”
    Dmitri’s phone rang at that moment, and he brought it to his ear. Like all men, the leader of his Seven had a past. Even Raphael did not know everything of what had passed between Favashi and the vampire just over five hundred years ago, centuries before Favashi became Cadre.
    What he did know was that Dmitri had come to him with a request that he be released from Raphael’s service. Raphael, a new archangel himself, hadn’t been able to afford to lose him at that stage and had asked the male to wait another year. He had not decreed it so—Dmitri had earned what he asked for—but the vampire had been agreeable.
    “Favashi,” he’d said with a smile that had been rare before he met the Persian angel, “is too sweet to cast curses on your name, but I’ve been told that the instant the year is over, I am hers.”
    Yet when that time came, Dmitri’s smile had long disappeared and aside from a single discussion where Raphael had asked Dmitri if he wished to leave, and Dmitri had replied with a curt “no,” they’d never spoken of it again.
    Now, the vampire finished his conversation and closed the cell phone. “We may have a situation—Elijah was spotted flying into your territory. He is currently over Georgia.”

28
     
    Coming on the heels of Favashi’s words, there could be only one response. Raphael contacted Nazarach and asked him to intercept the other archangel, invite Elijah to his home in Atlanta. “I will join you.” While he could and had flown such distances with ease, he decided to conserve his power in case Elijah had more than conversation in mind. “Tell Venom to prepare the plane,” he said to Dmitri after hanging up.
    “Sire.”
    “Dmitri.” He waited until the vampire turned, to say, “You will watch over her.”
    “I made a vow. I won’t break it.” But Dmitri’s expression said he still wasn’t convinced—not when it had become clear after Beijing that Raphael’s bond with Elena had somehow made him weaker. He healed slower, was easier to wound. Such a flaw could be deadly for an archangel.
    “Perhaps,” Raphael said to his second, “an archangel needs a weakness.”
    Dmitri shook his head. “Not if he is to survive the Cadre.”

     
    Sara was chatting with another hunter when Elena, the box containing the essence held to her side, poked her head around the open door of the Guild Director’s office. “Ash!”
    The dark-eyed hunter looked up, a smile lighting up that face that wouldn’t have looked out of place on the silver screen. “Hey, Ellie.”
    “So, it’s safe for you to venture out of the Cellars?”
    Long jean-clad legs sprawled out in front of her, Ashwini buffed her nails on her white T-shirt. “No comment.”
    Across the desk, Sara made an inelegant sound.