Nalini Singh - Archangel's Enigma

Right. Elena’s braid slipped over her shoulder as she swept left with the wind, her joy in flight apparent. He’s like a father who can’t accept that his child has grown up.

A good analogy. Almost to Manhattan, he said, Look.

Elena’s response was free of the worry that had twisted through it in the days immediately after Illium’s fall. Bluebell and Sparkle are having a competition again.

Not far from the Tower, the two angels were racing in a straight vertical line into the clouds. As Raphael watched, Aodhan eked out a lead, Illium overtook him, only to be overtaken himself . . . and then everything went to hell.

Illium slammed into the stratosphere as the world suddenly shattered into a blue-gold rain. Hitting Elena beside him, it glimmered and stuck, streaking her skin and hair.

Raphael, what’s happening?

He’s ascending. Raphael’s heart thundered. Land. Now. With that curt instruction he knew his intelligent consort wouldn’t fight, not with the air currents already turbulent around them; he rose into the sky after Illium.

It wasn’t done to interfere with an angel’s ascension, but the boy was too young, hundreds of years too young. Right then, Raphael couldn’t help but think of Illium as the boy he’d first met, the one who had followed him all over the Refuge telling him stories of his adventures. The small blue-winged boy who, with his quieter friend, Aodhan, had pulled more tricks than most other children combined.

At not much past five hundred, Illium’s body simply wasn’t physically strong enough to handle the power that lived in an archangel’s veins every moment of every day. A thousand had been a stretch—Raphael had barely survived the transition, been able to feel his skin about to break when he landed following his ascension. It had taken every ounce of his will to hold himself together instead of flying apart.

Today, using that same violent power to cut through the unstable air currents that had sent other angels dropping onto the closest landing surfaces, he arrowed directly toward Illium. The younger male was glowing golden, so much power pouring out of him that it threatened to ignite and annihilate him. His body was bent backward, his wings hanging down limply though his hands were fisted, his jaw gritted.

Raphael didn’t hesitate.

Punching through the golden blaze of power, he grabbed Illium with a grip on his upper arms. “Illium!”

The blue-winged angel’s eyes met his, pure terror in golden depths full of a hot red fire. As if his blood was boiling inside him. “Sire.” The sound was strained. “I can’t—”

His head snapped back, light pouring out of his eyes, his mouth, his skin.

Refusing to see the jagged cracks appearing in Illium’s flesh as raw power forced its way out of a body not built to hold it, Raphael “caught” that power with his own. He was running on blind instinct, had no reason to believe it would work. Though there were rumors and suspicions that Lijuan had gained the ability to siphon power from other archangels, from what Raphael had seen in the battle above New York, all she might be able to do was to feed on the Cadre much the same as she did with anyone else.

No archangel could capture another archangel’s true power .

Only . . .

Illium’s power surged up his arms and into his bloodstream. He directed the excess into the sky, where it turned into shattered lightning. When the lightning tried to pour back into Illium, he held it back with a shield of blue licked with iridescent wildfire, and he continued to capture the new energy pouring out of Illium.

The power he’d dispersed pushed against his shield, but it was new, fragile. Sending his own energy out into it, he made it break apart. Again and again and again. The rain continued to be glittering blue gold around him, but Illium’s breath began to come a little easier.

The golden light still pulsed below the surface of his skin, but it was no longer surging out through the fractures that didn’t bleed but glowed. Raphael didn’t know what would happen if he captured all the power, whether it would kill Illium or destroy his chance at ascension. He stopped.

“Can you fly down?” They were high enough up and had been encased in so much blinding light that no one could’ve seen what Raphael had done, but if Illium was to join the Cadre, he could not appear weak, least of all now.

His face drawn and eyes glowing a vivid gold, Illium gripped Raphael’s arm hard as he spread out his wings. “Yes.” Another strained word. “Not far.”

“Follow me. Head to Aodhan.” The Tower balcony on which he’d seen the other angel land was the closest viable point.

Then he dropped through the now dead-quiet air, having judged that Illium didn’t have fine muscle control over his wings. The new energy inside the younger angel’s body was overpowering him. He kept in mental touch with the other male throughout, making sure to land first so he could break Illium’s fall if he crashed. But the blue-winged angel managed to land on his feet . . . barely.

Aodhan, his face stark, went to reach out, stopped.

Illium’s eyes reflected a hundred different emotions as he stared at Raphael. “Sire.” His voice was so full of power it was barely understandable. “I’m not ready.” Blood bubbled out of his mouth, was washed away by a heavy rain no longer stained blue gold.

The power, Raphael realized, was crushing Illium’s internal organs. Left alone, it would kill him in a matter of minutes. Grabbing the side of the younger male’s neck, Raphael looked into his eyes and drew a touch more of the power into himself. He didn’t want to steal what was Illium’s birthright, but he would not let one of his Seven die.

“Focus on controlling it,” he said just as Elena landed on the edge of the balcony. “Hold the power in a tight grip.”

Illium clenched his jaw, stared into Raphael’s eyes, but the blood kept bubbling out.

Aodhan was suddenly there, his arm wrapped around Illium’s waist from behind as he held up his friend. “Focus,” he ordered. “You focus !”

Not far from Raphael, Elena was on her cell phone. “Lady Caliane,” she bit into the receiver. “No, I can’t wait! Get her!”

Mere heartbeats later, Elena said, “Lady, I’m sorry to be so rude, but Illium has ascended and it’s killing him.”

Running over with that abrupt greeting, she put the phone next to Raphael’s ear. “Mother,” he said. “I can leach off his power, but I don’t know what it’ll do to him.” As far as Raphael knew, no ascension had ever been halted or reversed, but compared to his mother, he’d lived but a firefly moment in time.

“The boy is bound to you?” Caliane said sharply. “By blood?”

“Yes.” The bond had been made when Illium became one of his Seven. It was partly why all of his Seven could initialize mind-to-mind contact with him regardless of age and whether they were angel or vampire.

“Absorb the energy, all of it. Now, before it’s too late.”

Not arguing when Illium was choking on his own blood in front of him, Raphael opened up his senses and did what he’d done instinctively in the sky. Power slammed into him, golden and filled with a joie de vivre that was pure Illium. Yet it melded with Raphael’s so flawlessly it was almost as if it had been meant for him.

It was strong . . . but young. Even so, the golden light bonded with Raphael’s cells in a way that said it was making him stronger on a permanent level. As if another brace had been added to the foundation of his power.

Not just an increase in strength. Evolution that took seconds rather than eons.