Nalini Singh: Archangel's Kiss

Lijuan staggered. “Adrian?” She sounded almost mortal in her surprise. “What are you doing?”

“He’s killing you,” Raphael said. “You’ve created your own death.”

Lijuan shoved with a single hand. Adrian’s body flew to hit Favashi, taking them both down. The Persian archangel rose to her feet after bare seconds, but the reborn stayed down.

“I am death,” Lijuan said, her voice regaining its strength even as blood continued to seep into her gown. “You have no claim to this land. Leave and I will spare you.”

Elijah shook his head. “Your reborn are infectious.”

Elena followed his gaze, her own widening in horror as she realized the human female Adrian had killed was now struggling to get to her feet, her fingers scrabbling on the tiles as the people around her watched in disbelief.

Dear God.

“Iwill not allow the plague to spread to my lands.” Neha, Lijuan’s closest neighbor, stepped into the circle at last, her rage finding a target.

Lijuan whipped out a hand and every single archangel in the circle began to bleed from cuts on their faces, their chests. “Perhaps it’s time the world had only one archangel.”

Elena wondered if anyone realized that Lijuan herself was still bleeding. And that her blood was turning dark, almost black. Elena’s eyes went to Adrian’s lifeless body. A vampire was Made by being pumped full of a toxin noxious to angels. In the normal scheme of things, that toxin turned human into vampire, then became harmless to all. But— What happens to the toxin if a vampire is brought back from the dead? If he is reborn?

Raphael’s wing brushed hers in silent acknowledgement. It seems the toxin, too, was reborn. And it was reborn in a stronger, more deadly form.

Will it kill her?

No. But it may make her easier to defeat. A touch against her mind. You won’t survive this fight. Get out of the blast zone and take the others with you.

Elena’s heart threatened to break. You die, I’ll make her bring you back.

You would not do that to me, Elena. A brush of the sea, of the wind, across her senses. But I have no intention of dying—we have not yet danced as angels dance.

Then he was gone from her mind. Blinking back her worry, her pain, she jerked her head at Aodhan, ready to do what her archangel had asked of her. Working with Jason and incredibly, Nazarach and Dahariel, they managed to light a fire under the courtiers. Most left. The reborn lingered.

“Kill them,” Elena ordered, slamming her pity into a dark corner. “If she thinks enough to call them . . .”

“She could disable Raphael and the rest of the Cadre.” Jason looked at the gun in her hand. “The quickest method is beheading.” He slid out a gleaming black sword from a sheath she hadn’t seen until that moment, hidden as it was in the curve of his back. “Take out their hearts, Elena. We’ll do the rest, ensure full death.”

“Works for me.” She began shooting. Turned out that the gun meant to shred angelic wings wasn’t as effective as a normal gun would have been on reborn hearts—vampiric and human—but it did the job. When she ran out of bullets, she switched to knives.

The task was grim . . . and sad. Without Lijuan’s active guidance, the reborn didn’t know what to do. So they mostly just stood there. A few tried to run but even that was a weak effort. Elena didn’t feel good about doing what she was doing, but it had to be done. Because if the reborn began to feed, if they left their victims dead, but whole, those victims would rise. And the reborn would creep a murderous tide across the world.

If even one of them realized that . . .

A pair of tired blue eyes met hers as her arm lifted. There was only gratitude in them as her knife hit home. Jason’s sword cut off his head an instant later, the black blade rippling with a fire that reduced the reborn to embers in less than ten seconds. Elena stared at that blade, at the angel who seemed kin to the dark.

“It is done.” Aodhan sheathed his swords, having cut those Jason hadn’t burned, into several neat pieces.

Nazarach and Dahariel had used their own methods, but the end result was a courtyard empty of life but for the Cadre, and their small group.

“I believe it’s time to leave.” Nazarach offered her his hand. “A dance at last.”

“I can fly myself out.” She’d slit her own throat before going anywhere with him.

The amber-eyed angel bowed his head. “Then I hope you’ll save me a dance the next time we meet.” He lifted off.

Dahariel waited until Nazarach had gone to say, “If Raphael survives, tell him he can have the vampire he wished to buy into his service. The boy’s too broken to be of much use to me any longer.” He rose into the sky even as the last word left his lips.

“We must go,” Jason said, his voice so tight, she could hardly understand him.

Elena glanced back, saw nothing but a blaze of white heat, a wall of static blocking her attempts to reach Raphael with her mind. Her heart clenched. But she left. Because her archangel had asked her to. And he’d be pissed to survive—and he would survive—only to find her dead. Power began to increase behind them at an exponential rate as they ran, an inferno that shoved at them with waves of searing fire.

Jason and Aodhan ran beside her as she climbed up a small flight of stairs. “It’s too low!” she yelled, knowing she’d never make it up.

One hand gripped her under her left arm, the other under her right. She snapped her wings together in the nick of time. Jason and Aodhan took off even as a massive lack of sound filled the air—power being sucked into a vacuum before expanding outward. It threatened to crush, but somehow, the two angels managed to get airborne.

“Go!”

But Jason and Aodhan waited three more seconds before releasing her. Her wings spread instinctively, the tips curling away from the death racing toward them. Heat waves licked across the air, each more dangerous than the last. She saw vampires fall even as they ran, heard screams as human homes went up in flames, saw angels flying ever higher in an attempt to escape. But Jason and Aodhan stayed stubbornly by her side, though she was weaker, far slower.

Fire singed her nape. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the edge of the inferno mere seconds behind them. “Drop!” she screamed. “Drop!”

The blast hit with the force of a two-ton truck, crumpling their wings and slamming them to earth like pieces of glass.

Killing Lijuan was impossible. Raphael realized that with the first wave of her power. She tasted of death and life intertwined, a being who straddled worlds.

Blood continued to streak down her shoulder, black and viscous, but still her power grew, her wings backlit by the glow until they ceased to exist. The rest of the Cadre rose with her, holding back the blinding wave that might destroy the world itself. Already, thousands had likely died. If they stopped, if they let her release the unmitigated fury of her strength, that death toll would reach millions. Billions.

But that wasn’t why his fellow archangels fought. Human life meant little to most. They fought for their own lives, and because Lijuan had made a mistake. He’d felt their shock as Adrian tore apart the vampire who’d had the ill fortune to be enthralled by Lijuan. The blood, the death, was nothing new. But the control she had over her reborn, the strength of those reborn against the vampires . . . no archangel wanted to face that kind of an army. The fact that that army was a plague that held the potential to end them all was the final nail in the coffin.