If he proved innocent of the murders, she’d have to make it clear to him that Harrison and his family were off-limits forever. Jade would never forget what Harrison had done, but he was also too clever to set himself up against an archangel. Beth, Maggie, and Harrison would be safe.

Calling the Soho blood boutique, she asked the manager to check the security files to confirm Jade’s alibi. “No need,” the manager said. “I remember him because he ordered our most expensive bottle. The five thousand dollar Blood Noir.”

“Christ, what the hell are we selling, liquid gold?”

“Almost. Marcia talked an older angel into donating a cup of his blood—each bottle has a droplet. Most vamps will never get near angelic blood, so . . .”

“Do I want to know how Marcia convinced this angel?”

“She traded looking over his business plan.”

“Then the angel got a good deal.” Marcia was still more diffident than she should be, but that woman’s brain. “No mistake on Jade’s attendance at that time?”

“None. We also had a proposal in the café that day. Made my cynical heart go pitter-patter.”

Ending the conversation, Elena was about to put away her phone when a message from Vivek pinged onto the screen: Order from Nisia on threat of her wrath—you need to eat regardless of the earlier situation. Montgomery’s been alerted.

Elena didn’t feel hungry, but with her feathers falling off, she wasn’t about to chance fate. She landed at the Enclave home minutes later. While the Legion went to poke around in her greenhouse, she scratched at the spot on her chest that continued to itch. “It’s probably a mosquito bite,” she muttered to the white owl that had landed with her. “The original vampires.”

The owl yawned, looking very real and not a ghost of Cassandra’s cherished birds.

After eating the meal Sivya had prepared, she checked to ensure she hadn’t lost any more primaries. Only when she’d confirmed that did she take off in a glide across the Hudson. Before she did anything else, she had to see Beth; she knew regardless of who else was around Beth, her sister would be waiting for her. Always, in the end, she would look to her big sister.

A quick exchange of messages told her the entire family was at a small neighborhood park.

Reaching the park, she spotted Maggie running around in the churned-up snow with two other children. Sparks glinted off her favorite pink woolen hat with woven silver threads, and her little body was clad in the pink coat with big glittery buttons that she loved almost as much as the hat. She was also wearing her matching snow boots, the perfect little pink princess.

Elena wondered if she’d grow up that way, or if she’d rebel in her teenage years, and drive Beth to distraction. Her lips quirked at imagining a goth Maggie, complete with a pierced lip and a tattoo designed to infuriate Mom and Dad. Elena looked forward to watching her niece’s journey, and seeing who she became. One thing was certain—no matter where Maggie chose to go or the path she decided to follow, Beth’s love would remain a fierce force of nature. She would never abandon her baby.

Elena’s landing caused squeals of glee, with Maggie running up to hug her legs. “Tag!” she cried out. “You’re it, Auntie Ellie!”

Making a growling face, Elena said, “Run!” The children took off while she pretended to chase them as fast as she could. She saw one of the other parents take photos, and, after the game was over and the children went back to playing on the available equipment, she asked the woman if she could see the images.

As she looked through them, she quietly deleted the ones that featured Maggie, leaving the woman with only those that showed her own child with Elena. It was unlikely the beaming woman would even notice, she’d taken so many shots.

That done, she went over to where Beth sat in a child-sized swing, her feet dragging heavily on the ground.

“Afraid I can’t push you on that one, Bethie.”

Her sister rose to lean into her. Elena wrapped her up in her arms . . . and she hoped to hell that she’d be there for Beth as time continued its inexorable march. As Maggie grew. As Harrison healed.

Because she’d just seen another feather float to the ground.

34

Night was a black cloak around him as Raphael flew home, the city winter-dark though it was only early evening. It had taken teeth-gritted control on his part not to check in on Elena every ten minutes after he left her—and then she’d messaged him, his hunter who knew him well enough to understand his need.

The contact had held him through his time dealing with the vampire kiss that had been flexing their muscles. It had been the wrong time for them to act out—and for the area’s angel to fail in his duties to keep the vampires in check. Raphael had been in no mood to go easy on anyone.

When he spotted lights on the Tower roof, he headed that way in case Elena had chosen to wait for him up there as she did at times—most often in the company of one or more of the Legion, or Illium. Once in a blue moon, it would be Dmitri or Venom—and they’d usually be throwing verbal knives at one another.

He often thought the three had come to enjoy their barbed interactions too much to ever be any friendlier.

Closer now, he saw colored lights strung all along the sides of the roof; the snow had also been brushed to the edges of the large space to leave a clean area in the center. Chairs surrounded a brazier that burned hot . . . lighting up a face he hadn’t seen for far too long.

His wings sending up a flurry of snow as he landed on one edge, he closed them back then stalked across to meet his weapons-master halfway. “Galen.” He clasped the other man’s opposite forearm in the way of warriors, their other arms coming around each other’s shoulders, the embrace warmed by centuries of loyalty and of battle beside one another. “This is a surprise.” His weapons-master was based in the angelic stronghold of the Refuge and ran all of Raphael’s interests there.

“We thought we’d take advantage of Aodhan being in the Refuge.” Galen’s pale green eyes were bright even in the night, though his hair appeared brown rather than the true red it was under sunlight. “He’s happy to handle my duties while I make this visit.”

“I am glad to see you.” He looked past Galen’s shoulder to spot Illium, Venom, and even Jason on the roof. The others must’ve called his spymaster when Galen landed in New York.

“Where is Jessamy?” He wanted to speak to her about Cassandra, see if she knew more than what Andromeda had imparted to Elena.

“Your consort has kidnapped her to parts unknown.” Galen ran his fingers through his hair, the amber amulet that hung from the metal band he wore around his upper-left arm aglow in the firelight that reached them. “I was told not to wait up.”

“They’re going to Sara’s!” Illium called out after catching their conversation. “A girls’ night, Ellie said, while we have a gathering here.”

Raphael’s hand curled into his palm, but this—having so many of his Seven together—was a rare gift. Elena was giving him a silent message: Enjoy this night, Archangel. With the Cascade unleashed once more, we can’t know when it’ll come again. The rest can wait a few more hours.

Putting a stranglehold on the fury of his worry, Raphael joined his men just as the rooftop door opened to admit Dmitri and Janvier. Also with them was Deacon, the weapons-maker husband of Elena’s best friend—and a mortal who reminded Raphael of the man Dmitri had been when they’d first met. The same quiet confidence, the same dedication to his family, the same way of interacting with Raphael—as a friend.

Raphael would mourn Deacon when he was gone.

So, he thought, would Galen. His weapons-master’s face had lit up more brilliant than the winter moon. “Deacon! Don’t say you have it already?”

Dark-haired, with eyes of dark green, Deacon reached into the scabbard he wore across his back and, giving a slow smile, pulled out a heavy broadsword that gleamed with the colors of the lights ringing the roof.

Galen, hard as granite and not known for emotional displays, looked near to tears. Taking the broadsword with reverent hands, he moved away from the main group and began to put the blade through its paces. It sang like music in the air, the balance so tuned to Galen’s hand that it would never sing as well for another.

“Well,” Janvier drawled, “I guess that puts me in my place.” Hands on his hips. “I’m never entering a room with you again, mon ami,” he said to Deacon.

The weapons-maker removed the scabbard from his body. “Give Galen the scabbard when he’s done, and he might realize he’s not imagining a Cajun accent near me.”

Laughter filled the air, along with insults and rejoinders.

“We’re only missing Naasir and Aodhan,” Dmitri murmured to him.

Raphael nodded. It was difficult to gather all his Seven in one place at one time. The last time had been just under a year prior to Aodhan’s departure, when Raphael had taken advantage of the peace to send Andreas to the Refuge, alongside Trace, Janvier and Ashwini, and Nimra and Noel.

Galen and Naasir had helped Andreas and his caretaker team settle in then left to spend time in New York with the others of the Seven. It had been a necessary and important month—an archangel could rule with his power alone, but an archangel bonded to such strong vampires and angels as Raphael’s Seven had a critical advantage. More, Raphael valued his bonds with his men, and if he’d learned one thing from watching his mother, it was that such loyalty was a treasure not to be squandered and taken for granted.

There was a reason Eli looked to her in respect to this day.