“Hah! You should’ve seen the mongrel dog by the time I got through with him.” Titus clasped forearms with Astaad, while Raphael welcomed Aegaeon out of political necessity. At this point in time, he had to be one of the Cadre, not the young archangel who’d once held a small blue-winged boy’s heartbroken body in his arms.

Astaad then turned to say a personal hello to Elena. “Mele sends her best. She is at home, safe on an island free of noxious contamination.”

The rest of the journey passed quickly, but they landed at the Tower to find Neha and Caliane waiting for them. Neha’s face was smudged with dirt and tired in a way Raphael had never seen it, her dark green leathers dusty. Caliane wore old white leathers, the color now closer to a pale yellow where it wasn’t smudged with dirt and soot.

Both his mother and Neha had their hair in braids at the back of their heads, swords at the hip. Neha took in the landing party. “So, it was Charisemnon who died. Good. Those who betray the Cadre are better off as forgotten fragments of dust.” Right then, Neha was a warrior queen, one who had old blood splattered on her leathers.

“We heard of the situation in your lands,” Astaad said to Neha in his quiet, elegant voice. “It is a horror your people have faced.”

Neha’s mouth firmed into a hard line. “My troops will survive this, and afterward, we will find a way forward. For now, I have left them to come here so we can end this forever. Never again will an archangel dare to use children as battle fodder.”

“It is a breach that will not be forgiven or forgotten,” Caliane added, the echo of nightmares in her eyes. “But my son, do not tell me that Alex has let us down?”

“He fights to save his people,” Raphael said, because he could understand Alexander’s choice even if he didn’t agree with it; it would’ve torn out his heart had he had to leave New York in the same situation.

“It will not matter if he wins the battle there if he is left to fight Lijuan alone.” Caliane pursed her lips. “I spoke to him personally before these new ways of communication stopped working and made it clear the war must be won before we can begin to fight lesser battles.”

Elena spoke into the small silence that followed Caliane’s words. “I don’t suppose any of you sank a ship full of reborn?”

Everyone but Titus shook their heads.

Ah well, Archangel. One out of three isn’t bad.

69

The war room burned with so much power that the tiny hairs on Elena’s arms stood straight up. Vivek wouldn’t even go near the knot of angry archangels. “Cadre’s fucking terrifying as a group,” he muttered to Elena when she came to get some information for the discussion. “You get my balls of iron award for this century.”

It was as she was walking back to the Cadre that the salt-laced sea crashed into her mind. Alexander has just been spotted entering the territory, together with Zanaya.

Every single archangel in the world would soon be in Manhattan.

When it was time, the two of them excused themselves to go welcome the Archangel of Persia and the newly awakened Ancient. Zanaya, stunning in a way that slapped you in the face then wrapped around you with sensual grace, gave Elena the once-over.

“A mortal turned angel,” she said, her lips soft and full, and her body clad in a simple black wrap that barely brushed her thighs. “How extraordinary. And such wings.”

A statement like that could be made or lost on tone, and Zanaya’s lyrically accented one held only wondering astonishment. Elena felt a bit like an interesting bug, but not one the Ancient wanted to squash. She went to compliment Zanaya on her sword—it was serious metal, not a pretty toy—when her gaze was caught by a rippling light beyond. “The sea aurora’s back.”

Zanaya’s lips tilted up. “Qin’s legend, that is what we called it in child tales. An old one. Will he rise, do you think?”

“He does or he doesn’t,” Alexander snapped. “We must prepare for battle.”

Leaving the lovely beauty of the sea aurora to play out on the water, they walked into the war room. Do you think Lijuan will try to attack this Qin? Elena asked Raphael.

It will be madness on her part. His aurora may play there, but it does not mean he Sleeps directly beneath.

“I left my territory overrun by reborn to come here.” Alexander met the violent blue of Caliane’s gaze across Dmitri’s strategy table. “We must end this here and quickly.”

Dude has no idea, Elena muttered to Raphael a half hour later, while Aegaeon spoke about how they could take Lijuan if they all worked together.

He is used to fighting ordinary foes, and even the experience in India cannot change the imprint laid by millennia. Raphael nodded at Dmitri and the drop-down screen opened up. “Before we go any further, you should all watch this.”

It was a replay of their last two encounters with Lijuan. The replay was choppy, the footage cobbled together from various surveillance and spy cameras, but it told a chilling tale.

“That is the fire with which you made her retreat in the past?” Astaad asked, dark eyes intent and hands braced on the edge of the table; his biceps were bunched, the sleek muscle of him evident for the first time since Elena had met him.

“Yes,” Raphael confirmed. “And this”—another glance at Dmitri—“is how she refuels herself and rises again, glutted with power.”

The flesh mountain came into view, squirming with life. Dmitri had chosen the footage from the very first feeding, as it was the clearest. It showed Lijuan going from wounded to a healthy glow while her people shriveled into desiccated mummies. The other archangels said nothing for a long time after the last frame blinked out.

It was Zanaya who broke the silence, her stunning face solemn within the frame of silver hair washed with purple. “Can this being she has become be killed?”

“All we can do is try.” Caliane’s quiet statement held resolve. “The only other option is to swear allegiance to the goddess she believes herself to be and watch the world drown in death.”

Her appetite will never be satisfied, child of mortals. She will feed . . . feed . . . feed into her reign of death.

Elena staggered at the old voice that had entered her head without warning. Vestiges of Sleep lingered in Cassandra’s tone, but they were only remnants. The Ancient was awake or very close to it.

Elena. The sea crashing into her mind, the salt-laced waves powerful. What is it?

Cassandra’s newly awake. She took a discreet step back from the table, then another. Let me see if I can talk to her.

Raphael’s eyes flicked over her head. Her owls await you on the balcony. Go. I will ensure no one in the Cadre notices.

Elena slipped away to join the lovely snowy birds with golden eyes, while Raphael stayed with the other archangels. Hannah, the only one who probably would’ve noticed her retreat, was with the injured members of Elijah’s army.

Prophecy of mine. A brush of thought against her that felt like a smile. You altered destiny. You are whole.

Elena’s heart clenched at the open joy in the Ancient’s voice. Thanks for the assist along the way. Cassandra had come through in the end. Elena didn’t hold her delay in doing so against her—to change the mind of a being so old required a tectonic shift.

I don’t suppose you can give us a heads-up on the final battle? One way or another, it would end the next time Lijuan rose. After that, they had no more aces in the hole, no more Legion, no more power.

The threads are too tangled. A sigh. In the center is a mirror that distorts the images on the other side. I cannot see what will be. I see only a chaos of possibilities. I see death. I see life. I see a mockery of both.

Elena stilled. The mirror. Is there anything special about it?

A long pause but she didn’t think Cassandra was gone—not when the white owls preened their feathers on the edge of the balcony.

The mirror changes that which it is given, Cassandra said at last. It does not reflect the truth but it does not lie. It is . . . a channel.

Elena asked the question different ways, brought Raphael into the discussion, too, but that was all the Ancient could tell them. Cassandra sighed before her mind faded once more.

Elena met Raphael’s eyes as she walked back into the war room, the endless blue a familiar shock. You think she’ll join us for the battle? Cassandra had already altered her pattern of behavior once by acting to help change the future.

Ancients are difficult to predict. Even if she does, it may not be enough to balance the scales of power.

Elena nodded, her jaw tight. Because this time, the Cascade might’ve outplayed itself by giving one player a seemingly unbeatable ability.

How could you win against an enemy who could regenerate at rapid speed?

“. . . happened to Antonicus,” Neha was saying when Elena quietly rejoined the group. “Simply being an Ancient, with powerful energies, will not protect you.” Her eyes were trained on Aegaeon. “Don’t be an arrogant fool.”

The Ancient’s nostrils flared, the blue-green of his hair liquid silk around his harshly handsome face. “Remember to whom you speak, girl. I was a ruler before you were ever a thought.”

Illium’s father is an asshole. She couldn’t see how their bright, beautiful, beloved Bluebell had come from this man. Yeah, fine, the wild blue feathers had definitely had their genesis in Aegaeon—the streaks of blue in the predominantly sea green hue of the Ancient’s wings were identical to Bluebell’s, but that appeared to be his sole contribution. What the hell did the Hummingbird see in him?

Aegaeon was well known for his ability to seduce women. I am told that, in the beginning, he was often a different man with the Hummingbird, as you say Dmitri is with Honor.

I’ll deny it until I’m blue in the face if you tell Dmitri this, but there’s no comparison. He’s a prince in contrast to this pompous ass.

Despite all their powerful clashing personalities, the Cadre managed to come up with a battle plan by the time dawn’s light touched the sky. Elena had made herself do the sensible thing and gone to bed to catch some rest so she could be at her best when morning broke. As it was, she returned in time to hear their decision.