“No.” It was Naasir who’d told them the Archangel of China could share strength with her generals, but it wasn’t a permanent transfer. As soon as Lijuan was out of the equation, those generals had crumpled.
Hands on her hips, she chewed on another possibility. “Lijuan’s creations tend to be infectious.” The archangel’s horrific reborn had been a plague. “Only”—Ashwini frowned—“she wasn’t creating when she fed. The sacrifices ended up shells, so I guess we’re back to square one on that.”
Janvier shifted to take the brunt of a fresh gust of wind. “I’ll report our theories to Raphael nonetheless. He must be alerted to the possibility that Lijuan may have left a lingering taint in the city.”
Ashwini raised both eyebrows. “Back in Atlanta, you said you’d never met him, and now you’re on a first-name basis?”
“I hadn’t met him then,” he said, that sneakily seductive sunlight still in his eyes. “Vampires my age do not usually ever have personal contact with the archangel to whom we give our allegiance.”
“Most vampires your age aren’t as strong as you.” Or as smart, as tough. Having long ago fulfilled the terms of his Contract, Janvier didn’t have to serve anyone. He chose to do so. “You’re an asset.”
“And the sire”—Janvier cupped her cheek—“treats his assets well.”
Not wanting to understand the implicit message, she broke the contact to focus on a car in the distance, its brake lights glowing rubies in the gray light of dusk. “I’ll do some research in the Guild Archives, see if I can find any similar cases.”
Janvier began to walk toward the town house that was his objective, his expression telling her he saw too much. “I’ll let you know if Dmitri has any insights.” Metal creaked as he pushed open the decorative wrought-iron gate that fronted the short pathway to the town house. “Let us see to the health of these cattle first.”
Ashwini took in the town house as they walked, grasping at the distraction from the need that was a wrenching tug low in her belly. The building appeared new; the walls gleamed a stylish black, but the door was painted the same glossy orange-red as the gate, as was the trim. “Nice place.” If you had a million or ten lying around.
“Want one?” said the vampire by her side. “I can buy it, allow you to live rent free on the premises.”
“Yeah?” she said, playing along because she only had so much self-control when it came to Janvier, and she wasn’t about to use it to handle his flirting . . . didn’t want to shut that down. “On what condition?”
“I would have a key, of course. To make sure you are keeping my property in good repair.” His innocent look had probably spelled the downfall of at least a hundred virgins in his lifetime.
“Such a conscientious landlord. Would you fix the plumbing, too?”
“If you let me put my pipe in your sprocket.” Pure wickedness in his smile at her groan, he ignored the door knocker shaped like a snarling lion to rap his knuckles directly against the gleaming paint.
She wanted so badly to kiss him that the craving was a ferocious beast inside her. Smile fading as his pupils dilated, Janvier went to angle his body toward her when the door opened to bring her face-to-face with the last person she’d expected to see here. “Arvi?” She stared incredulously at the tall man with aquiline features, silver-dusted black hair, and skin the exact shade as her own.
Her brother stared at her. “What are you doing here?”
“She’s with me.” No charm in Janvier’s expression now, only a cool, deadly intensity that had never been directed at Ashwini. “You aren’t one of the cattle.”