Archangel's Heart(107)

She knelt down beside him.

Sliding her hand gently under his head after putting away her knife because, trained response aside, Raphael had her back, she looked hard at the angel with eyes of dark gray and hair of silver who knelt on his other side. The one she’d met on the lower floor of the Gallery: Donael. “What happened?”

“I do not know,” he said, his features stark. “I’ve just found him. This is Lumia.” His voice shook. “There is no violence here.”

Jaw tight, Elena took in Donael’s spotless robe, the lack of injuries on his knuckles or anywhere else on him, and was forced to believe him. Ibrahim’s injuries looked very recent from the lack of any apparent healing, and she didn’t think the strong young angel would’ve gone down without trying to fight back.

Raphael’s wing was heavy over hers as he knelt down beside Ibrahim, the warmth of the still-healing tip pulsing through her own feathers. “He is badly hurt,” he murmured. “Crushed windpipe. That’s what’s keeping him under.”

And Raphael’s healing ability was wiped out for the moment. “What can we do?” The idea of just leaving Ibrahim to hurt was not something she could accept.

“Make him comfortable so he can heal. And keep him safe.” Sliding his arms under Ibrahim, Raphael rose with the broken male in his hold. Can you scent another angel or a vampire on him?

Elena tried, shook her head. No vamp but I don’t know about an angel. Her ability to scent normal, non-toxin-maddened angels continued to be hit and miss.

“His quarters are through here,” Donael began, but Elena shook her head, her crossbow in hand so she could watch Raphael’s back as he carried Ibrahim.

“We’re taking him to our suite,” she said, having no need to check with Raphael on that—she knew her archangel, had heard the fury in his tone.

Donael didn’t argue. “Of course, of course.” His breathing was ragged, white lines bracketing his mouth. “I don’t understand. We do not have violence at Lumia.”

The repetition of the patently untrue words had Elena snapping. “Yeah?” she said, her tone harsh. “What about the violence visited on the townspeople? That’s apparently okay?”

Donael looked at her with a complete lack of comprehension as he tried to keep up with her and Raphael’s long strides. “I have no reason to go to the town. There is no peace there, as is oft the case with mortal places. Always moving this way and that, always living their lives in fast-forward.”

The sea rolled into her mind, touched with floes of ice. He is old, Elena. Truly old. He may not ever go into the town.

Maybe. And maybe he’s just a really good actor.

“Why would anyone harm Ibrahim?” Donael’s voice had settled, but his expression remained shaken. “He is a child, one with a calling, but a child nonetheless.” A careful look at Raphael. “We have many non-Luminata here.”

“And I’ve seen Gian and others practicing martial arts,” Raphael’s consort bit out. “Violence isn’t off-limits in Lumia.”

“Controlled violence,” Donael protested. “A form of movement to aid meditation. It’s different from this atrocity.”

“True,” Raphael responded. “But we can debate who it was that hurt Ibrahim later. For now, do you have a healer in Lumia?”

“There is only the one called Stillness.” An angling of his head, a pause that said he was riffling through his memories to find the correct one. “The boy had another name once, and under that name, he was a student of healing.”

Aodhan, Raphael said, reaching out with his mind. We need a healer. Can you find Laric?

I’m with him at this moment, sire. Where shall I bring him?

To our suite.

When they reached their rooms, Raphael laid Ibrahim down on the bed he and Elena had moved to the living area, and as he did so, Ibrahim’s right arm slid down the injured male’s side. The movement was so strangely fluid that Raphael gently pushed up the sleeve of the man’s robe.

“His arm is in pieces,” Elena gritted out, her free hand fisted, the one holding her crossbow pointing it safely down and away from anyone in the vicinity. “Like it’s been deliberately smashed.”

Elena was right. It was as if whoever had harmed Ibrahim had focused his rage on this one arm after taking the angel down. But the rest of Ibrahim’s body hadn’t escaped insult by any measure. When Raphael opened Ibrahim’s robe and tore open the fine tunic he wore beneath, he saw the man’s ribs had been crushed inward, likely perforating his organs and causing bleeding on the inside if the swelling in his abdomen was anything to go by.