Archangel’s Ascension: Chapter 4

Aodhan was still mulling over Caliane’s words when there came a light tap on his door. He opened it to see a man with shaggy hair of a true silver, his eyes the same against skin of deep brown kissed by gold. Dressed in a gray T-shirt paired with black cargo pants, he would’ve passed muster as a vampire serious and strong with most people.

But Naasir wasn’t a vampire. Neither was he an angel or a mortal.

Naasir was Naasir.

“You made it.” Because it wasn’t only a casual gathering tonight—

of the Seven would be at Illium’s homecoming. With things still unstable at the time of Aodhan’s return, no gathering had been possible, so this was the first time Aodhan had seen Naasir since Aodhan’s term as interim second to the Archangel of China.

It was clear to him that the most primal member of the Seven wanted to haul him into a hug, but wild at heart though he was, Naasir had never crossed the boundary Aodhan had laid down over two centuries ago. Despite the fact that Aodhan knew his response had been a thing induced by trauma, not a conscious choice, he suddenly wondered why he’d applied it to this man who had only ever hauled him out of harm…and who’d introduced him to wonders untold.

A memory from a lifetime ago that had him jerking toward Naasir. Who hugged him as fiercely as he’d done when Aodhan had been a “cub,” curious and trusting. When a purr vibrated in Naasir’s chest, far deeper and more of a rumble than with Smoke, Aodhan felt emotion lodge in his throat. Very few people knew Naasir could do that, but Aodhan had heard the sound before…when Naasir had been attempting to soothe the hurt of the child Aodhan had once been.

“Do you still think of me as a cub?” he asked as he drew back, a rasp in his voice.

Naasir’s shrug was languid, his voice holding a growl as he strolled into Aodhan’s suite. “No. Cubs grow. You’ve grown strong and dangerous.” Then he paused. “But when you’re hurt, I remember the cub you once were, so small and wild inside your skin. As I remember the wounded fledgling we found.” A piercing look. “You’re better. Not all better, but closer to it than before.”

“Yes.” Aodhan looked at the door Naasir had closed behind him. “Where’s Andromeda?”

“Running a bath.” Naasir’s voice held the smug contentment of a man who adored his mate and was quite certain he was adored in turn. “I’ll disturb her once she’s in it.” A grin as wicked as that from Aodhan’s memories before Naasir stalked over to haul Aodhan into his arms again. “I have missed your smell so close, small sparkles.”

“Big sparkles now,” Aodhan said past the lump in his throat.

Laughing, Naasir drew back, then prowled into the kitchen, sniffing. “You have a cat?”

“Illium adopted one in China.”

“Cats are the best choice of pet.” He sprawled down in one of Aodhan’s sofas, as feline as Smoke when she was feeling lazy. “Suyin has invited me to visit her territory. Andi wants to go, write this part of China’s history from experience. Is it safe for her?”

Aodhan poured the other man a drink. “Specialty blood from Elena’s café,” he said, holding up a small bottle of obsidian glass imprinted with the logo of the business. “I think you’ll like it.”

Naasir’s lips curled in a dubious expression, but he accepted the glass of rich ruby-red blood, sniffed. He’d only just taken a sip by the time Aodhan sat down with his own drink—a glass of honey mead.

“So,” Aodhan said, “about China—fair warning, I’m on Andi’s side. This history should be recorded by someone on the ground. But danger remains.” Then he told Naasir all he could, both from his own experiences, and from the knowledge Illium had shared with him through his letters. And despite the fact that Naasir had avowed his intention to disturb Andromeda in her bath, he stayed for well over an hour.

Their conversation was of two allied warriors sharing intel.

But when Naasir did leave, it was with a quicksilver smile, the ripple of a tiger’s stripes emerging in the rich brown of his skin. “I’m happy to see you again…small sparkles.”

Aodhan smiled as Naasir disappeared into another suite. With time yet on his hands, he then cleared up a couple of Tower matters he was handling for Dmitri—and all the while he thought of his Blue.

The night murmured a soft dark beyond the windows by the time of the gathering.

Word had come around a half hour ago that, with the rain having passed, Montgomery had dried the roof using secret Montgomery methods, so they could gather there, under the starlit sky. The clouds had faded with the rain, New York sparkling clean.

Exiting his room, he reached out to Illium with his mind.

The others had already done so with Aodhan when he returned home, even if those in the Refuge hadn’t been free to travel to the city at the time.

Even had it been possible, Aodhan wouldn’t have wanted a gathering. Not with Illium missing. Because they, each of the inner core of Raphael’s team, played a different role in their group.

Illium wasn’t only Aodhan’s heart. He was the heart of the Seven.

Things didn’t feel right when he wasn’t around, and everyone had mentioned it to Aodhan in one way or another since his return from China. Even Jason, the quietest of them all, had said, “The city doesn’t sing as brightly with Illium gone. Do you feel it?”

The spymaster’s facial tattoo—a true agony to have made permanent—had been stark in the morning light, yet the blackness of his wings remained paradoxically soft enough to merge into that same light. “The wind carries a note of melancholy, a lover waiting for his return.”

Aodhan didn’t hear the winds, not as Jason did, but he knew his best friend was missed, keenly so. There was no one in the entire world like his Blue, and Aodhan wasn’t such a jealous being that he couldn’t share Illium with the countless people who loved him. All he hoarded for himself was that piece of Illium’s heart that would only ever belong to the one he loved for all eternity.

Because come what may, he knew that piece was his, had been his for a long, long time. What remained elusive was Illium’s trust in Aodhan’s commitment to never again emotionally vanish from his life.

, Illium protested.

Aodhan’s shoulders shook, the urge to cradle Illium’s face in a kiss a near-overwhelming wave.

He wanted Illium to have this moment, get a glimpse of just how important he was to the Tower and to the people who called it home.

Chuckling quietly at Smoke’s antics, Aodhan stepped out on to the balcony closest to his suite, and spread his wings for the short flight up. The night air had a biting freshness that came only after a storm, and the city sparkled like stars strewn onto the earth, the darkness concealing the continuing scars from the war.

The area Raphael had been forced to cleanse with angelfire remained a dead patch where neither mortals, immortals, nor the creatures of nature wanted to go. Several skyscrapers were yet in the demolition phase, and certain roads were still being laid, and those were by no measure all the marks the war had left on the city.

New York, however, was taking it in stride. They’d all seen what had happened in China; compared to the horror of that silent landscape devoid of its people, its cities empty of life and its landscapes vicious with murderous traps, this was nothing. New York would rise again, and it would rise even brighter and more defiant.

After doing a wide sweep to take in more of the view, he ended up on the roof—to see that Montgomery had set up several strings of glowing bulbs across the roof, the ends anchored on heavy stands usually stored in a basement area. But the butler had been judicious—the lights were muted and created only a gentle glow in the corner set up for the party. The rest of the rooftop remained in shadow, lit up only by the stars.

Aodhan landed at the same time as Galen, who’d arrived from the other direction. Raphael’s weapons-master was in formal leathers of deep bronze, his thickly muscled arms bared to reveal the amber amulet he wore around his left biceps.

Red hair tumbled from the wind and eyes of pale green awash in light, he looked far better than the last time Aodhan had seen him in person—in the direct aftermath of the war.

“Aodhan! At last I can welcome you properly home!”

“It’s good to see you, my barbarian friend.” Aodhan reached out to exchange the forearm grip of warriors with him, because in this, he had to make the first move.

No matter that he’d embraced Naasir and had been embraced by him, touch was still a complicated morass for him, but this was one of the Seven, a man who would die for him without hesitation. As Aodhan would for him.

They’d stood back to back in battle often enough, ready to ward off blows to protect each other. What then, was such contact, against the depth of their shared trust? The time would come when he wouldn’t have to rationalize tactile contact—Aodhan was determined that would be so—but for now, it helped him to make a conscious choice each and every time.

Keir’s gentle voice, the healer’s sensitivity innate.

Tonight, Galen accepted Aodhan’s offered forearm with a grin, theirs having always been the friendship of compatriots. While Galen was older, he’d joined the Seven after Aodhan was full grown. “Naasir and I both have to head back after two nights, but neither one of us was going to miss this, no matter how short our stay. Trace’s stepped in to cover, with assistance from Nimra and Noel, who happened to be on a visit to the Refuge.”

Aodhan glanced around after they broke the arm clasp. “Where’s Jessamy?”

“Walking up with Vivek—they had historical data to discuss. Jason’s deputy has managed to dig up scans of books long believed lost.”

A glimpse of silver in Aodhan’s peripheral vision, Naasir walking out onto the roof hand in hand with Andromeda. He’d changed since he’d come to see Aodhan, now wore blue jeans and a black blazer over a black shirt.

Andromeda, in contrast, had chosen a knee-length and wide-skirted dress of a deep citrine that complemented the dark chocolate shade of her wings while closed. When opened out, the design on her feathers was far more intricate, altering in subtle nuances of color that culminated in a pale golden brown at the tips.

Curls wild around her fine-boned face, she ran over to welcome Aodhan, her smile startled when he took her hands. “Oh,” she said, her fingers curling slightly over his. “This is wonderful, Aodhan.”

He knew she didn’t mean the party.

“Yes,” he agreed with a smile.

They’d barely finished the exchange when Jason landed with Mahiya. He was in black as always, but Mahiya had chosen an ankle-length skirt of vivid magenta embroidered with golden thread, and paired with a close-fitting blouse in the same rich hue but without any embroidery. Draped over the set was a scarf of translucent gold that she’d pleated to appear like a sari. The same gold glinted from the fine rope she’d woven through her braid.

Her eyes crinkled as she laughed at something Jason had said.

Aodhan wanted to paint her and the spymaster just this way, mentally tucked away the image. As he did snapshots of each of the others on the roof tonight, he’d paint the entire scene, he decided, gift it to his Blue.

Dmitri and Honor arrived just then, Jessamy and Vivek right behind them. Jessamy’s gown of soft pink brushed against the brown of Vivek’s suit pants as they spoke intently. Vivek was in his most streamlined wheelchair, his hands partially covered by leather gloves that matched his sharp suit. Honor, meanwhile, had gone for a thigh-length and long-sleeved dress in dark red velvet, while Dmitri’s suit was as black as Jason’s formal tunic and pants.

Aodhan made note of the fine details like Dmitri’s grin at a comment from Naasir, and how Andi hugged Honor with a delight that was reciprocated. How Galen clasped Vivek’s arm the same way he would any warrior, and how the head of the Tower’s tech command seemed to fall into easy conversation with the man they called the Barbarian, even as Jessamy broke away to take Mahiya’s hands.

When Elena and Raphael landed on the roof, Raphael proved to be in formal leathers of a dark gray, while Ellie had chosen a fitted thigh-length dress in a vivid blue that she’d paired with black ankle boots, her hair scraped up into a high tail. When she turned, he saw that the side panel of the dress was an intricate lattice of sharply angled fabric that exposed not skin, but a shimmering inner layer.

“Only because I just had to fly up from our suite,” she said with a laugh when Mahiya complimented her dress. “Otherwise I’d have flashed half the city. Raphael had to give me the all clear before I could come up as it was!”

As Mahiya giggled and lifted up her skirts to show Ellie the black tights she wore underneath while an intrigued Jessamy looked on, Venom ran up, Holly’s hand in his. Elegant suit and a youthful dress at the height of fashion, they were both smiling.

The entire Seven was together, but for Illium.

Also on the roof were the Tower’s chief healer, Nisia; Montgomery and Sivya; and angels like Andreja who had known Illium a long time. The younger crew would have to wait till the morning to see him. This wasn’t the time for a huge, overwhelming gathering.

Illium’s clear voice in Aodhan’s mind.

Wings of blue appeared over the side of the roof…and then Illium was laughing as the gathered group sent up a cheer. “What are you all doing here?” he cried out as he landed, and was mobbed by hugs, and kisses on the cheek, and shakes of his forearm.

“It was a good excuse for a party,” Venom quipped, but his hug was as tight as the others.

The other man could be cool and distant with outsiders, but never with his brethren. The deadly vampire with the slitted pupils of a viper had welcomed Aodhan home by re-creating his favorite dessert—one usually only available from a single baker in the Refuge. Not that he’d taken credit, of course. It had just appeared in a box on Aodhan’s dining table.

Aodhan stayed back while the others spoke to Illium—he’d had more time than anyone with Blue of late, when their sojourn in China overlapped. It gave him joy to see the other man deluged with love and affection…and he felt a surge of possessive happiness when he saw that Illium wore the belt buckle Aodhan had designed and made for him.

Jessamy took Illium’s hands and squeezed them, a deep smile in the soft brown of her eyes. “Well,” she said in that gentle way of hers, “I wouldn’t have believed it when you were a babe, Illium, but you have somehow managed not to fall into a gorge, get impaled on a weapon far too large for you, or fall off a roof while attempting to prove that you could fly even when the best you could do was imitate a drunken bumblebee.”

Grinning without remorse at all he’d put their teacher through during his time at the Refuge School, Illium broke the handhold to wrap Jessamy up in his arms and lift her off her feet. She laughed, the sound as warm as her heart. There was more laughter in the time that followed, more conversation, and so much food.

Montgomery and Sivya had been told not to serve others at this gathering of friends, but they hovered over the food anyway, wanting to make sure everyone had what they needed. Raphael finally physically pulled his butler and cook away from the banquet table, then poured them drinks.

It took time, but the two did relax at last and give up their duties for the night. And when Venom started up the music, Aodhan saw Montgomery draw Sivya into his arms in a shadowy corner of the rooftop, his hands at her waist beneath the drape of her wings. She placed her hands around his nape in turn, her fingers playing with the dark of his hair and her expression one Aodhan had never before seen, because it was for Montgomery alone.

He glanced away, loath to invade the privacy of their love.

Three songs later, Venom switched up the slow and easy tones to a pounding beat that had Naasir hauling Andi onto the center of the roof and spinning her around in a dance so fast and energetic that only Naasir could pull it off with a winged partner.

Afterward, Illium slammed down his tankard of mead in laughing challenge. “I refuse to be out-danced by our resident tiger-creature.” Even as Elena shook her fist at him for taunting her about her continued lack of knowledge of Naasir’s exact “species,” he took off into the sky.

The others whooped and yelled, Naasir loudest of them all.

Illium was a firefly in the darkness, his speed dizzying, and his acrobatic moves dazzling. As Aodhan gloried in his skill and power, Illium’s mind touched his own, the contact so familiar, it was a well-worn groove in his senses.

Putting down his drink, Aodhan stepped quietly to the edge of the roof while the others were preoccupied watching Illium.

Illium dived as if about to crash into the roof, and Aodhan took off at speed.

Two seconds later, Illium had reversed his dive in a maneuver very few angels could pull off, and they were “braiding” the air in quick-fire symmetry. Aodhan had never had Illium’s ability to make hairpin turns, but this was a pattern they’d practiced and practiced again until they could predict each other’s movements—and that Illium had designed to take Aodhan’s range of winged motion into account.

It was music in the air, fast, beautiful music that sang through his bones and made him laugh in exhilaration.

When the two of them landed as one on the roof to rapturous applause, he couldn’t help grinning and wrapping an arm around Illium’s neck to hug him close. Illium didn’t resist, their wings tangled as they waved off accolades on their performance…before Illium raised his hands playfully at the others to continue with said accolades.

Heart a rapid pulse and skin hot, his Blue by his side, Aodhan had never been happier.

Illium looked up, laughter bright in the aged gold of his eyes, and for a moment, the world seemed to freeze.

They didn’t have much of a height difference—an inch or two. But at this angle, and how they were standing, it would’ve been so easy for Aodhan to lower his head and kiss Illium without thought, simply because he was there and he was Aodhan’s everything.

Illium’s pupils flared, his breath catching.