Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 112287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 561(@200wpm)___ 449(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 561(@200wpm)___ 449(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
A short discussion later and they’d all agreed on the plan.
The melody rang out in her head once more when Raphael cupped the side of her face, touched his lips to hers. A heartbeat later, all she heard was the susurration of his wings as they unfurled for flight.
Walking to stand on the edge of the roof, she watched as he and Marduk took flight into a sky that had begun to transition to night, two archangels, one the oldest living being in current existence, the other the youngest archangel ever made.
A shiver rippled over her when they disappeared into the clouds, taking a high flight path through thinner air. The music had stopped, the emptiness as haunting as when the Legion had stopped speaking to her.
But she had no time for melancholy.
Flying down to the balcony outside their suite, she made the call to the airport to let their pilot, Duncan, know that she needed to be in the air as fast as possible. Then, because—unlike the Cadre—she wasn’t all but invulnerable to harsh weather conditions, she grabbed her specially designed daypack and quickly packed clothing that would protect her against snow and ice if they ended up in that type of environment.
Daypack snug between her wings, she took off toward the airport only minutes after Raphael’s departure. When she called Dmitri, he said, “Raphael told me.”
They hung up without further words, the city safe under his watch. She made her final call once she was on the plane, as Duncan began to taxi to the runway.
“Bethie,” she said when her sister answered, “I have to head out of town for a few days.” With no indication of how long this might take, the generic period seemed appropriate. “Will you tell Dad?”
After agreeing, Beth said, “Will you be safe in whatever you’re doing?”
Elena squeezed the phone. “Yes. I’ll see you all when I get back.”
After hanging up, she stared out the window and thought of how a happy family of six had become a shattered grouping of three.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
The sound of blood dripping to the floor as it fell off her dead sister’s broken fingers—it had haunted her for years, still did at times. Today, however, what haunted her was the memory of Beth’s hand gripping hers, her little face white and pinched as her child’s brain struggled to comprehend the horror.
First Belle and Ari, then Marguerite. Gone forever.
“I miss you,” she said aloud as the plane took to the sky. “I’ll always miss you.” Some wounds didn’t ever vanish; they just faded with time, until you could look at them without bleeding and breaking.
Another shiver rocked her.
Knowing it had nothing to do with her memories and everything to do with exhaustion, she got up and grabbed a blanket, then settled in for a rest. There was no knowing what the day would hold—she might as well sleep when she could.
* * *
* * *
It was the scent of gardenias that told her she was dreaming.
But she didn’t look away from her mother’s smiling face as they sat across from each other on the kitchen floor. Marguerite, so ethereal and beautiful, had thrown a woven rug over the tile, and they sat shelling peas from the big basket she’d picked from the gardens.
“Chérie? Why such a look on your face?” Marguerite’s eyes held love unbound, the paleness of her hair aglow in the sunlight that poured in behind her.
The same sunlight caressed the dark gold of her skin.
Glancing down at her own hands, the hue of her skin part of Marguerite’s legacy, Elena saw that they were the hands of an adult, not of the child she would’ve been were this a memory. “I’m scared I won’t see you again after we say a proper goodbye.”
Marguerite snapped a pea pod while smiling indulgently. “Ah, azeeztee. I will always be here.” She placed her hand over the panicked beat of Elena’s heart. “Your maman will never leave you.” She reached for another pod. “It is impossible for a maman to leave her babies.”
Elena wanted to tell Marguerite that she had left her once before, had left Beth, too. But she knew that would wipe away her mother’s smile and cause a cloud to eclipse the sun, so she just snapped peas, ate a few, and spoke with the mother she’d never again see, no matter how long she lived.
54
Raphael and Marduk weren’t the first to arrive at Caliane’s home.
His mother hadn’t moved into the magnificent Archangel Fort when she took over Neha’s lands, had instead settled on an ancient oceanside palace that had gone from white to cream with time, and where the music of the water was a constant.
He found it . . . a thing to consider, that she’d chosen the ocean, when it was the ocean she’d used to commit the most terrible crimes against the people of two once-thriving cities. Perhaps one day he’d ask her why she did it—to punish herself? Or to ensure she never forgot what she’d done, the ocean a silent and relentless witness?