“Dmitri"s organizing the vampires and younger angels into a similar search.”
And, Elena thought, they"d cover ground far faster than she could—especially when she had no starting point for a scent-track. But she needed to do something . Looking away from Naasir"s unblinking stare, she found her eye caught by a needlelike formation in the distance. Her heart ricocheted off her ribs. “How well do you know the Refuge?”
“Very.”
“Show me to Michaela"s section.” Raphael had been ruthless with the other archangel"s humiliation. Maybe the angel who"d brutalized Noel had crawled back out of his hole . . . or maybe Michaela had decided on payback, striking at the heart of those who looked to Raphael for protection.
“This way.” Naasir began to move with the preternatural grace of a being at home in the night.
She could only just keep up with what she guessed was a crawl for him.
Stepping out into an open area a few minutes later, he raised his arm in some kind of a signal before turning to her. “Michaela"s home is far on foot.”
Elena felt her spine lock as Illium landed less than three feet from them. She trusted no one but Raphael to carry her. Not only did she have a problem with trust, the act seemed too intimate, too close. Especially given the near painful sensitivity of her wings. However, tonight, there was a far more pragmatic reason for her reluctance. “I go up,” she said, “I might miss the vampire"s 93
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scent on the ground if he wasn"t flown straight to Michaela"s.”
Illium held out a hand. “It"ll be much quicker for you to fly to Michaela"s, check the grounds, then return.”
Knowing he was right, she squelched her personal reluctance and went to him, aware of Naasir vanishing into the dark. “Is it me or is Naasir about as tame as your average mountain lion?”
“Compared to him, the lions are tabby cats.” Illium closed his arms around her waist as she wrapped hers around his neck, her wings held tight to her spine. It made her easier to carry—and it hid the incredibly sensitive inner curve where her wings grew out of her back.
“Your bruises.”
“Don"t drop me because you"re worried about holding on too hard.”
“I won"t let you fall.” It was an intimate whisper against her ear as he rose into the air.
“Famous last words,” she muttered, the wind whipping the hair off her face, threatening to steal her breath, her words.
“You"re spoiled, Ellie. You"re used to being carried by an archangel.” He skimmed under several other angels, heading toward an elegant group of buildings on a relatively smooth piece of ground. The land around the buildings was lit with delicately shaped metal lanterns, the paths a lilting melody of form and function.
“Are there gardens down there?” she asked, Illium"s breath warm against her cheek as he bent his head to catch her question.
“She rarely visits, but Michaela"s gardens are famed in the Refuge. Even in the cold, she finds things that will grow, sometimes even bloom.”
Bloom.
Her mind cascaded with images from the garden of wildflowers—blood-soaked petals littering the ground, maimed bodies crushing the flowers, and most powerful of all, the setting sun glinting off Illium"s sword as he amputated wings with merciless efficiency. She wondered if those angels were still there, lying forsaken in the dark.
“She may be many things—cruel, malicious, selfish,” Illium murmured as he brought them to a smooth landing on the outer terrace of Michaela"s home, “but I don"t think the Queen of Constantinople would harm a child.”
“You didn"t see the look in her eyes at the pavilion.” Stepping out of Illium"s arms, she wasn"t surprised to see Riker appear in front of the closed doorway. She"d picked up his scent—cedar 94
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painted with ice, evocative and unexpected—the instant they landed. “Hello, Riker.” It took effort to keep her voice civil—the last time she"d seen Michaela"s favorite guard, he"d been pinned to a wall, his heart skewered by the torn-off leg of a table, but the time before that, he"d tried to play a very nasty game with her.
Riker stared at her in that way he had—cold-blooded as any reptile. “You"re in my mistress"s territory. You have no protection here.”
“I"m looking for Sam,” Elena said. “Illium tells me Michaela wouldn"t hurt a child, so I"m hoping she"ll give us permission to search the grounds—in case the vampire passed through here.”
“My mistress has no need of your approval.”
Elena shoved her hand through her hair, attempting to keep her tone temperate though a helpless urgency pumped through her blood. “Look,” she said, “I"m not here to pick a fight. And if your mistress truly cares about the young, she won"t be happy to find that you blocked us.”