“We believed the Cascade of Terror was the worst that could befall the world.” The blue in the Primary’s eyes appeared to glow. “We were wrong. This is the Cascade of Death and it could end immortals and mortals alike.”

58

It turned out that the small air and ground strikes had been nothing but a feint.

An hour into the tense quiet that followed, scuttling reborn appeared in the darkness, all jerking their way toward Raphael’s side of the border. Alerted by their surveillance team, Venom was in position with a team of vampires and guild hunters—a team that included Dmitri’s wife, Honor. They were armed with flamethrowers, ready to offer a scorching welcome to any reborn that got through their booby traps.

A junior squadron trained and helmed by Miuxu provided air support to ensure the reborn couldn’t scrabble through gaps in the defensive line.

A single infected individual could lead to a death toll in the hundreds or thousands.

“She’s figured out a way to protect her own people,” Illium said at one point when he and Raphael were both awake and on watch in the war room.

Of the main Tower team, Vivek and Elena needed the most sleep. Vivek had gritted his teeth and gone when the time came, as had Elena—frustrated or not, she accepted it as the cost of being functional in battle. He’d kissed her bare shoulder when he left her in bed earlier; ten seconds after her head hit the pillow and she’d already been half asleep.

Now, he saw what Illium had noticed on the surveillance feed: Lijuan’s reborn were skirting her own troops, their eyes fixated on Raphael’s side of the line. “I wonder . . .” He asked Illium to zoom in on a section of the footage. “Do you see?”

A hiss of breath. “All the enemy soldiers in the reborn’s path have the blackness in their eyes. They’re already infected.”

“Sire.” One of the mortal surveillance techs raised her hand just as Dmitri walked back into the room after taking a short break to shower and drink a glass of blood. “We have movement at the new flesh mountain.”

It proved to be Xi, carrying his mistress’s bloody body in his arms. Firelight flickered over them and over the faces of the healthy who’d joined the wounded on the flesh pile, their faces shining with worship. Raphael’s people had cut off the enemy from the city’s electrical grid, but the other side had not only the torches, but lights run off the power generated by the submarines.

Lijuan offered no gentleness or theatrics this time, just fed.

Were you able to get in touch with Honor? Raphael asked when the black fog descended.

Arms folded across his stone gray T-shirt, Dmitri gave a curt nod. Quick one-minute call. She says not to worry, that the reborn aren’t getting through them—and oh, she’d like a personal firethrower for her next birthday. A hard shake of his head. Why do we love such fucking courageous women?

They shared a look of understanding. Before Elena, Raphael hadn’t known the cold grip of fear, and before Honor, Dmitri had been quite content to exist inside an impenetrable emotional shell.

On the screen, the fog began to lift. Lijuan was back on her feet . . . but she was being supported by Xi, her face twisted with pain and one side of her body dragging.

Dmitri viewed the footage with no mercy or forgiveness in his expression. “Get enough wildfire directly into her bloodstream and the bitch might actually die.”

“It won’t work so long as she can feed.” Already, fresh wounded were being dropped onto the crumbling remains of the last mound. Dust puffed into the air, the dead nothing but dried out cells.

Sire.

Report, Venom.

Ashwini got through enemy lines and she’s reporting a massive swarm of reborn inside a warehouse, ready to be unleashed.

Raphael considered the best use of their resources. Tell her to warn us when the swarm is about to be released. We’ll burn them up from the sky before they ever get close to the ground troops. You can pick off any stragglers.

He turned to Illium, explained the situation. “You have the oil prepared?” Sometimes, the old ways worked just fine.

“Ready and waiting.” Illium thrust a hand through the blue-tipped black of his hair. “I’ll prepare my squadron. I don’t think Lijuan’s going to wait much longer to release that swarm. You enraged her by winning the last skirmish.”

“It wasn’t a win, Bluebell,” he said grimly. “At most, I bought us a day.”

There was no way to win against an enemy who could shrug off all wounds. The Archangel of China could claim victory simply by exhausting them into weakness and despair.

* * *

• • •

Elena was putting knives into her forearm sheaths when the world went up in flame in the distance. Stepping out onto the snow-dusted balcony devoid of owls, she watched the heat brush the predawn sky, the dark yellow curls brilliant. Above the inferno flew angels dropping what she knew to be large “bombs” of oil.

Galen had designed the skins so they’d hold their shape until dropped from a certain height. All you needed after that was a source of fire—which the archers were happy to provide.

And the enemy would burn.

The idea of anyone—reborn included—burning alive was not a thing that sat easy in her gut, but they were fighting for the survival of every man, woman, and child who called this territory home.

A huge winged bird flew across her vision. Her heart jumped. Raphael, I just saw a condor. Another winged across the front of the balcony, then another.

Elijah has arrived.

Instinct made her look up—just in time to see her archangel take off from the Tower roof. The golden rays of the rising sun hit the white-gold filaments in his feathers, no sign apparent of the white fire.

Too much energy used.

Too little time to recover.

Come, Elena-mine. Hannah is with him.

Elena swept off the balcony. The two of them joined up in the air just as she made out a smudge on the horizon. Elijah’s army. Hope was a candle flame inside her. Surely this would even the odds a little.

Is it safe for you to head out this way? She rode a helpful wind. Lijuan won’t take advantage?

She remains incapacitated. Your hunter friend Demarco was able to put eyes on her—the stump I filled with wildfire isn’t healing as quickly as the rest of her body.

Elena’s gut iced; she’d known Demarco would be going into enemy territory, but it was still a shock to hear he was in the heart of danger. Who else is behind enemy lines?

Janvier, Holly, Ashwini, and the rest of Demarco’s sniper team. They entered via the tunnel system.

Those tunnels were on no maps except those kept in a secure Tower locker—and in the minds of every member of the senior Tower team. They’re all insane. Worry pounded a drumbeat in her blood. Naasir? The sneakiest of them all and the acknowledged leader of the stealth team.

He is in the city, doing what he does best.

The smudge in the sky began to take shape. Dawnlight glinted off the gold of Elijah’s hair and shimmered over the black of Hannah’s. As they got closer, Elena felt her eyes widen. She’d always before seen Hannah in elegant gowns, her hair in styles as elegant. Today, Elijah’s consort wore a simple brown tunic and pants, an outfit similar to fighting leathers.

A sword was sheathed and strapped down the side of one thigh. Tightly braided to her skull, her hair had then been wrapped in a knot at the back of her head. “I didn’t know Hannah could fight.”

“Do not forget, Elena-mine, Hannah has lived many mortal lifetimes and she’s long been consort to an archangel who was once a general.” He angled his wings in a signal to Elijah, who angled his own in return.

“But you are right in that she has never been a warrior at heart—however, Hannah has always stepped into battle as one who will assist fallen warriors. She has carried countless wounded to safety, bandaged injuries enough to hold them together for survival, worked alongside medics trying to save the fallen.”

Well able to see Hannah doing all of that, Elena raised a hand in a wave to her fellow consort. The other woman waved back. Condors and other winged birds of prey danced in front of the archangelic couple, several coming forward to sweep around Elena and Raphael.

When the four of them met, it was several beats ahead of Elijah’s army. That army spread out behind him on a wave of wings and below him in a sweep of heavy-duty vehicles. Raphael had told her that Elijah was later than expected because he’d chosen to bring everyone in together rather than flying ahead with his aerial troops. Splitting the two had risked leaving the ground forces without aerial support should Lijuan decide to aim her eyes in that direction.

“Eli.” Raphael clasped the other archangel’s forearm as Elijah did the same to him.

Elena exchanged a hug with Hannah.

“Your wings, Ellie,” whispered the other woman. “I am astonished.” Despite the wondering words, lines of strain marred the normally smooth darkness of her skin.

“I have only been able to bring half my army, my friend.” The Archangel of South America glanced behind then below him to take in that army. “All those who were close enough to your border to get here in good time.”

“That you have come, it is an act of friendship I will never forget.”

“My intention was to bring all of them,” Elijah continued, “but Lijuan was clever in a way I did not predict.” He exchanged a tight smile with Hannah. “My people were successful in halting the majority of attempts to bring in a single reborn to begin a nest.”

“We never expected to catch every one,” Raphael said. “I believe the only reason I have not had news of any infestations in my territory is because Lijuan didn’t bother with such a stratagem here. Her plan was always to take Manhattan, then loose her creatures.”

Elijah nodded. “The few nests that got through are not the problem—my teams are well able to eliminate them. Charisemnon, however . . .” Elijah’s eyes grew cold enough to cause goose bumps on Elena’s skin, his wings limned with light. The hilts of the swords he wore crisscrossed on his back glinted with jewels.