Archangel's Legion(86)

“Any specific exercises?” she asked, happy to learn anything that would make her more efficient in the air.

“Yes.” Attention returning to the passing traffic, he added, “I can teach you.”

Curious as to what had him so captivated, she took a seat beside him, careful to ensure their wings didn’t brush. “Are you looking for someone?”

A shake of his head. “I find myself fascinated by the fact that even though the river was full of blood less than a day past, it appears to be business as usual for those who call this land home.”

Elena laughed. “New Yorkers are a tough breed, Aodhan.” Reaching back, she tightened her ponytail. “Kick us and we might go down, but we’ll come back up with fury in our eye and grit in our souls.” She loved the bloody-minded strength of her city. “No outsider will ever see us cry.”

Eyes of shattered glass met her own, her face reflected back at her in startlingly beautiful splinters. “I haven’t forgotten our talk of fear and aloneness,” he said, before shifting his gaze toward Manhattan. “You and this city teach me much about coming back after pain and fear. You’re right—I’ve licked my wounds long enough.”

Stunned at the openness with which he’d referred to his emotional scars, she went with her gut. “We’re all allowed time to curl up and recover from shock or hurt. But if it goes on too long, it begins to eat away at you.” Elena knew that from experience, her angry pain where Jeffrey was concerned having left her with indelible scars of her own. “It’s better to face the pain, neutralize the acid of the memories.”

“And if that fails? If I fall again?”

“You will,” she said, because the truth was a far better weapon against the darkness than any false hope. “Over and over. Sometimes, it’ll get so brutal that curling up and hiding again will seem the better choice.” She thought of the way she’d wanted to shut down in the aftermath of the nightmare in Amanat, of the exhilarating, hot-blooded knife fight that had followed. “Don’t give in, Aodhan, because you can’t imagine the glory that waits on the other side. Fight to see it; fight to own it.”

His responding words held an undertone of heart-piercing joy she’d never before heard from him. “It was worth the risk to play a game with my friend again,” he said, the diamond-coated strands of his hair brushing against his cheekbone in the gentle wind. “Until I threw that ball at Illium over the river, I didn’t understand I hadn’t felt alive for over two hundred years.”

A companionable silence fell between them for the next few minutes, until Aodhan said, “You searched me out on purpose?”

“Yes. I wanted to ask you something.” Her eyes on his profile, his skin—alabaster lovingly caressed with fine gold—flawless. “Does Vivek belong to you? Since you Made him?”

Shaking his head, he said, “All vampires belong to the archangel in the territory where the vampire is Made. Supervisors are chosen from among the senior angels.”

Damn. “So I’m too young to supervise a vampire?”

“In ordinary circumstances, yes; a new-Made vampire can sometimes be violent, difficult to control, and you are weak in angelic terms. Vivek Kapur, however,” he said, making it clear he understood why they were having this discussion, “won’t come into his full physical strength for some time and you have Raphael’s resources at your command.”

“So it’s doable?”

“It is done.” He held her gaze. “You understand you’ll be responsible for the hundred years he has Contracted to serve—and that service must be completed.”

“I know. It’ll breed resentment otherwise.” As far as Elena knew, Dmitri’s wife, Honor, was the sole exception to the Contract rule in Raphael’s territory, and it was an exception not a single immortal would ever question. Dmitri had, after all, been Raphael’s loyal second for a thousand years and counting, had spilled his own blood countless times in defense of his archangel.

“What are your plans for the term of his Contract?” Aodhan asked.

“He’ll be with Tower communications as discussed, but as soon as he regains use of his limbs, I plan to put him in training at Guild Academy.” It was what Vivek had decided on when they’d discussed things prior to his Making; a man didn’t need to be physically strong to become a lethal shot. Vivek planned to practice his shooting skills while building up muscle. “In the meantime, he’ll be attending intensive lessons at the Academy to bone up on areas of practical knowledge he didn’t need in his previous position.”