45

Stay safe, Archangel. Or I’ll hunt you down.

The words she’d spoken to Raphael before she got on the plane to New York and he turned to fly back to rejoin the rest of the Cadre.

As always, he’d smiled, kissed her. “I would not dare be hurt. Watch over my city, hbeebti.”

She would, to the very best of her ability.

Turning from the edge of the high Tower balcony from where she’d watched the skies for him since the instant she landed earlier that morning, Elena looked at the woman who stood in the doorway. Majda and Jean-Baptiste had come with her to New York, would stay for a little while, but Elena guessed they’d be returning to Morocco, to the place that had been their home.

Sadness lay a heavy shroud on Majda’s features; it had been that way ever since Elena told her about Marguerite on the plane, about the baby Majda had fled with to safety. “Jean-Baptiste had told me to run if he ever disappeared,” Majda had said after the first rush of tears. “Just run and keep going.”

“Did you go to France because it was his homeland?”

A smile that held no joy. “No. That would’ve made it too easy for Gian to track us. My husband, though he has such a French name, was born in the Amazon jungle to scientist parents. I ended up in France by chance, stayed because my baby needed a home.”

The two of them hadn’t spoken much more about the details behind Majda’s flight. They’d had time in Lumia, but Majda and Jean-Baptiste had needed that time to adapt to freedom and to just be with one another after decades of torment. One thing Majda had asked was why Elena was named Elena.

“After you,” Elena had told her. “My father chose the name that’s on my birth certificate, but I’m fairly certain my mother made sure that name was one that could be shortened to Elena.”

It had made Majda cry again. “Sana Alayna,” she’d whispered. “That is the name I used in Paris—most people who knew me called me Alayna. To a child, it must’ve sounded very much like Elena.”

Now, Elena forced herself to stop watching the sky for her archangel, knowing it was far too early to see him, and walked to join her grandmother. Like most beings without wings, Majda didn’t like to come out onto these railingless balconies where, when the wind was high, it could shove you right off if you weren’t careful. “I want you to meet someone, Majda.”

The beautiful woman with hair just a shade more golden than Elena’s reached out to touch her fingers to Elena’s cheek. “I am your grandmother, child.”

“I know.” Elena gave her a wry smile. “But you look my age. I’m having difficulty getting my head around that.” She wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to address Majda by anything but her name.

Majda’s expression altered, became layered with myriad emotions. “My parents didn’t want me to marry Jean-Baptiste,” she told Elena as they walked down the hallway. “He was young for a vampire but he was still a vampire. They knew of a woman in a neighboring town who’d been abandoned by her vampire husband after she began to turn gray.”

“Unfortunately, that still happens.” It was what Elena had worried most about when it came to her sister, Beth, but Bethie had gained an unexpected internal strength with the birth of her daughter. Elena didn’t think this new, fiercely protective Beth would break even if Harrison pulled a disappearing act. Not that Beth’s vampire husband seemed in any danger of ever doing that—he was terrified of losing her to time, regret in his every action.

Harrison had become a vampire first even though he and Beth had agreed that they’d wait until both of them were accepted. He’d been impatient, cocky. And he would pay for it through eternity. Because Elena’s baby sister could never become a vampire—her body would reject the change in a gruesome, painful manner. Elena would one day have to watch her baby sister close her eyes forever, Beth’s body no longer able to hold on to life.

It hurt to think about.

“Yet you married Jean-Baptiste anyway,” she said to her mother’s mother.

“I love him, have loved him from the instant we first bumped into each other in the marketplace.” Majda spread her hand over her heart. “It felt as if I’d found a missing part of my soul.”

“Did you plan to apply to become a vampire?”

A nod. “But we had no expectation that I’d be accepted—Jean-Baptiste was a young vampire himself, hadn’t earned the right to ask the favor of a powerful angel.” Majda touched her hand to Elena’s wing, a wondering light in her eyes. “And to think we now have an angel in the family.”

“More than one,” Elena pointed out. “You also have Raphael and Caliane.”

Gentle laughter as Majda dropped her hand, but the sadness, it never faded. “We married with the knowledge that I would leave him after a mortal lifetime—I was overjoyed that I would never have to worry about his death. For my husband . . . it was hard.”

“It is hard,” Elena said, thinking of Sara, of Beth, of Zoe, of Maggie, of Deacon, of Ransom . . . So many strong, unique lives that would one day no longer exist. “But my friend, Sara, she pointed out that immortals live dangerous lives. Knowing I could actually die before her helps me deal.”

Majda gave her a considering look before her lips kicked up. “Of course, you are right.” She shook her head. “My parents are gone, but it’s not as if Jean-Baptiste and I have had an easy life for the past six decades.” The dry way she said that told Elena a hell of a lot about her grandmother’s strength.

“When did Gian become obsessed with you?” she asked, having the feeling her grandmother could talk about this today.

“He tried to court me a month after my wedding.” Majda hugged her arms around herself, running her hands up and down her arms. “At first, I was kind. I thought he simply didn’t realize that I was married, so I told him I was a new bride and that I honored my husband.” An exhale. “I added that last because there are women who do not honor their husbands when angels invite them to their beds.”

“Angel groupies.”

“Yes, is this what you call them? We used to call them angel-drunk.” Majda got into the elevator with her, and Elena pushed the button to take them to the ground floor. It was a floor she rarely visited now that she had wings—but today, she wouldn’t be flying across the sky.

“Of course,” Majda added, “it wasn’t only women who could become drunk on the angels, though we did not talk about that in my time.”

“I’m guessing Gian didn’t stop his efforts to win you?”

“No, he did,” Majda said to her surprise, “and I thought that he was one of the better angels from that place.” A twist to her mouth. “Then Jean-Baptiste came home in a fury one day. Gian had called him into his office and offered him money if he would surrender his rights to me.” Her body shook. “As if I was a thing to be bought and sold.”

“Bastard.” The deep, dark hole where Raphael had dropped Gian wasn’t a harsh enough punishment as far as Elena was concerned. Maybe rats would get into that hole, start feasting on him. At least he couldn’t use his powers to escape. Anything he blasted would just fall on top of him, crushing him to a pulp. Of course, they weren’t leaving that to chance. Illium had helped bug the hole with cameras and microphones so the Tower could monitor it, make certain Gian didn’t find a way out.

And with each and every breath he took, the former leader of the Luminata had to inhale the bitter knowledge that he was buried in the same place where his victims—and their granddaughter—walked free. Majda and Jean-Baptiste had asked not to be told where exactly in the territory Gian was imprisoned; it was enough for them that he was paying for his crimes—they didn’t want to take the chance of obsessing on the location of Gian’s prison should they become aware of it.

Majda’s voice broke into Elena’s thoughts, the other woman continuing her story. “I was young, and I was afraid my husband would blame me for Gian’s interest. Many men would have.” Her tone was pragmatic, that of a woman who’d seen such unfairness too many times to be surprised by it. “But he didn’t. He said he knew I would never dishonor our vows, that the dishonor was Gian’s and Gian’s alone. And he said the same to Gian’s face.”

“Grandpa has guts,” Elena said, then shook her head as they stepped out of the elevator. “Yeah, I can’t call him Grandpa, either. He’s way too hot.” And that thought wigged her out but it was a hard one to avoid when others in the Tower insisted on pointing it out.

Majda’s laughter was startled. “He adores you already, you know.” A deep smile that reached her sad eyes. “Not simply because you are the child of our child, but because you have so much courage and fire.”

“He clearly has a thing for women with courage and fire,” Elena said to the woman who must have an incredible well of both to have survived the decades she’d spent as a prisoner.

Majda’s eyes lit up even more. “Clearly.”

Elena said hello to Suhani as they walked through the lobby, her mind skipping back to their first meeting—on the day her life changed forever. “I can guess the rest,” she said after Suhani replied with a wave and a smile, the receptionist proud of the fact that she was the first person to whom Elena had ever spoken in the Tower, not counting Dmitri, who’d been on the door that fateful day. “Gian kept up the pressure—”

“No,” Majda interrupted. “He backed off and we thought he’d accepted the rebuke.” She drew a deep draught of the New York air as they stepped out into the sunny day, the noise of the city assaulting their senses. “This city you live in, it is extraordinary. So big and chaotic and yet with such a vibrant pattern to its chaos.”

Elena felt a flicker of hope. “You’re thinking of staying?”

“Yes.” The clouds returned. “We will visit our town one day soon, but we’ll go knowing that most of the people we loved are gone. And our memories of it are forever twined with pain and fear.”

She reached out to take Elena’s hand. “This place, it is our granddaughter’s home, and it is new. We will become new here, too.” A smile. “Old in our love—that has never faltered. But new in our paths.” She looked curiously at the large vehicle that had just come to a standstill at the end of the path to the Tower.

It was a Hummer SUV that had been gutted so the back was open but for metal bars that provided a handhold. “Wings,” Elena said, jerking her thumb back to indicate hers. “I wanted to ride with you and this was the best option.” She glanced around. “Where’s Jean-Baptiste?”

“He should be here soon,” Majda answered. “I told him you’d asked to meet—but he has found a friend in the vampire who sounds like liquid music when he talks. They were with Dmitri when I left.”

“Janvier?”

“Yes, Janvier.” A sparkle in Majda’s eyes. “That one has charm bred into his bones, just like Jean-Baptiste.” The sparkle grew. “You have not seen it yet for he is so very angry, but I think when it reappears, you will understand how I stood no chance when he decided I was the woman for him.”

Elena grinned at the idea of her grandfather being a smooth-talking charmer. “You two fit.” Just like she fit with Raphael, Janvier with Ashwini.

“Yes.” Looking back toward the Tower door, as if searching for him, Majda said, “It hurts him to talk about Marguerite, so I will tell you what you should know before he arrives.”

“You don’t have to—”

“It is part of your history, azeeztee—”

Elena didn’t hear the rest through the slam of emotion, her heart a tornado in her chest. “No one has called me that for two decades.”

“She remembered?” A rasping whisper. “My precious baby remembered?”

Elena nodded. “Her mother’s kisses, the way you had such a soft voice when speaking to her, the words you used most often.”

Tears glittered in Majda’s eyes. “She didn’t believe herself abandoned?”

“No.” Elena frowned. “She grew up believing you died in a bus accident where your body was washed away.”

“Sister Constance.” A shaken whisper. “She did what I asked, must’ve used the bus crash when it happened at the right time.” Sobs broke her words into pieces.

Elena didn’t hesitate. She leaned in and took the woman who was her grandmother into her arms. And thought—she’s so small. Like her own mother had been. It was Jeffrey who’d given Elena her height. Wrapping her wings around Majda to shield her from prying eyes, she held her grandmother as Majda sobbed for her lost child who had grown up knowing she had been deeply loved by her mother.

“Gian left me alone for a year,” Majda whispered some time later, her sobs having left a rasp in her throat and her arms still around Elena. “I thought he’d moved on, but he hadn’t. And when I became with child, he was enraged, though I didn’t discover that until he had me captive. He beat one of the other Luminata so badly that it took him months to recover.”

“Hell.” All those angels were over a thousand years old, with the attendant healing powers, which meant Gian had turned someone into mincemeat. As he’d nearly done to Ibrahim. The angel remained in anshara under Laric’s watchful eye, the healer having chosen to stay in Lumia until Ibrahim was healed. He had the Cadre’s permission to continue on at Lumia afterward, but he’d decided to head for the Refuge and the Medica, where Keir had already offered him a position.

“I will be brave,” he’d told them using the silent tongue. “I will try. I do not want to become like the Luminata, so closed within myself that I cease to see the value of others.”

Elena intended to get in touch with Jessamy, give the other woman a heads-up that Laric might need a little of her gentle kindness and guidance. But today, her attention was on the woman who’d survived interminable horror.

“Gian didn’t come near me while I was pregnant,” her grandmother told her. “He was repulsed by the fact I carried Jean-Baptiste’s child. But two weeks after our baby was born, before we had settled our argument over her name—Jean-Baptiste wanted to call her Marguerite, while I preferred Taliyah—my husband disappeared.”

Majda pulled away, her face marked by tears but her eyes clear. “I searched for him, we all did, never thinking the angels would go so far as to hurt a vampire aligned to the Archangel Favashi—until Gian came to my parents’ home and made me an offer: that he would take care of me like a princess if I would be his mistress. I just had to leave my daughter behind.”

Hands fisting, she gritted out the next words. “He made it a point to say that my husband was no longer a problem. That was when I knew Gian had taken him. At the time, I believed Jean-Baptiste dead. And I knew my baby was another problem Gian would either eventually eliminate . . . or he’d abuse that babe. Simply because she was my husband’s child.”

Majda’s gaze was no longer broken; it held only fury. “Gian, he taunted us that he would have you. He called you my daughter.”

“The asshole isn’t taunting anyone now.”

A hard nod from her grandmother, this soft woman who nonetheless had a core of steel. “No, but back then, he held all the power.”

“So you ran.” Elena couldn’t imagine her fear and pain.

“I wasn’t yet fully recovered from the birth, but my parents urged me to go, gave me every last cent they had, did all they could to conceal my departure to give me time to get away.” Her body shook. “Gian told me later that he’d beaten them both when they wouldn’t tell him where I’d gone, left them so severely injured that they would’ve died if not for neighbors who nursed them back to health. He said it was a sign of his devotion.”

Elena’s grandmother looked like she wanted to spit. “I learned how to look after my beautiful Marguerite without my own mother nearby and my heart’s love presumed dead, managed to make a life for me and my baby in Paris, thought we were safe as she grew into a toddler who spoke so sweetly to me . . . then I saw an angel watching me one day.”

A chill of remembered fear drew the blood away from her face. “I thought I was being foolish, but still, in the depths of the night, I carried Marguerite out of our apartment and I hid in a place where I could watch that apartment. I told Marguerite it was a game.”

She smiled. “My baby was so good, played with her toys and never complained even when I realized I’d forgotten to pack her favorite snack. Even when I told her we couldn’t go back to our apartment because a bad angel was watching it. Instead, I took my child into a church where I knew the nun was kind.”

She rubbed a fist over her heart. “I kissed my azeeztee good-bye, and then I ran, my intent to lead the hunters as far from Marguerite as possible. They caught up to me in Turkey.”

Squeezing her eyes shut, Majda breathed in and out in a fast rhythm. “I escaped once from Lumia. That was when Gian chained me up underground. It was a horror to see Jean-Baptiste, see how Gian had been taking his jealous rage out on my husband, but seeing that he was alive, it also kept me strong.”

“Why is Jean-Baptiste still alive?”

“At first, it was so Gian could brutalize him for his own gratification. Later, it was because Gian wanted us to suffer—I by watching my husband being hurt, Jean-Baptiste by having to watch Gian . . .”

Anger scalded Elena’s veins at the words her grandmother didn’t say, the atrocities she didn’t enumerate. “You don’t have to tell me. I can guess.”

“When I thought I’d break,” her grandmother said instead, “I’d speak to my husband, and no matter how emaciated he became, or how much pain he was in, he’d tell me to think of our daughter growing in freedom, in the light. We knew Gian hadn’t found her—he would’ve never been able to keep that to himself. “

A soft hand cupping Elena’s cheek. “Now we will think of you. Daughter of our daughter.”

“My mother loved to dance,” Elena found herself saying just as Jean-Baptiste stepped out of the Tower doors, his hair shining golden. “When I was little, sometimes we’d dance in the rain and play in water pools.” It caused her pain to talk about Marguerite, but it was worth it to see the hungry joy in Majda’s eyes.

She continued to speak after they got into the SUV.

Her grandparents soaked up her stories, laughed and cried, asked her more and more questions about her mother. Elena answered everything, found herself smiling more than once as she talked about events she’d almost forgotten—like the time she’d found her mother and Beth giggling together as Beth “helped” her bake a cake. “Except most of the mix was on Beth’s face,” she said with a laugh.

“I would like to meet our other granddaughter,” Jean-Baptiste said. “I think we are ready.”

“That’s where we’re going.” Ten minutes later, she nodded to the right. “This is her house.” It was a home into which Beth had moved without telling Elena until it was done.

“It has big enough doors for you,” her sister had said when she finally sent Elena a message asking her to come over. “Harrison picked our other house, and he wouldn’t let me renovate. So I moved.”

Elena’s heart had all but exploded—she’d never expected such stubborn determination from her baby sister. Neither had Harrison. But the vampire had caved and the entire family now lived in the dual-level Lenox Hill home Beth had chosen.

Elena had offered to give Beth any money she needed to clear what she’d assumed was a large mortgage, given the location of the house. She’d already set up a regular transfer to Beth’s account so that her sister didn’t have to rely financially on her husband. The only reason she hadn’t given Beth a big chunk at once was because she knew that while Bethie was a great mom, she wasn’t too good with money.

But her sister had shaken her head. “Daddy paid,” she’d said, her turquoise eyes dark as they looked into Elena’s. “He’s not so bad, Ellie. He loves you, too. I told him why I wanted to move and he didn’t argue, just wrote the check.”

That Elena and Jeffrey had a complicated relationship was an understatement.

“Beth is strong,” Elena told her grandparents. “Stronger than I knew for a long time, but she’s also the baby of our family.” Not Jeffrey’s new family, but their original unit of six.

“I understand, Elena,” Majda said. “We will treat her with care.”

Elena had told her sister they were coming and Beth was waiting for them in the doorway, a wide smile on her face and her body clad in a lovely floral print dress with a big skirt. “Is this them?” she asked excitedly before running over to hug first Majda then Jean-Baptiste with warm exuberance. “I’m so happy to meet you!”

Both grandparents smiled in unabashed delight.

Beth had that effect on people.

“Hello, Bethie.” Elena hugged her sister when she came over, kissed her temple.

And heard an excited cry behind Beth. Releasing her sister, she turned just in time to scoop up a gorgeous toddler dressed in a neat blue pinafore and with a ribbon in her air. “Hello, Giggles.”

Her niece giggled and kissed her on the mouth. “Aniellie!”

“Yes, Auntie Ellie.” Elena rubbed noses with her niece before turning to her stunned grandparents. “Grandmother, Grandfather,” she said because this was about family, “I’d like you to meet Marguerite Aribelle, your great-granddaughter.” She kissed her niece’s soft cheek. “Maggie.”

Maggie stared from Elena to Majda as her great-grandparents’ eyes shined wet at the knowledge that their family line was another generation strong.

“Aniellie?” Maggie said at last, a frown on her little face as she looked at Majda.

“No, this is Great-grandma Majda,” Elena said. “You want to give her a kiss?”

Maggie’s smile was shy, but she held out her arms. Majda took her great-granddaughter with gentle care, her entire body trembling. “Hello, azeeztee.” It was a whisper.

Patting at her wet cheeks, Maggie said, “Gamma have boo-boo?”

Majda shook her head. “I’m happy.” She leaned in, accepted Maggie’s sweet kiss. “Would you like to meet your great-grandfather?”

Her mother’s daughter, Maggie fell head over heels for her handsome great-grandfather, all but batting her lashes as he took her into his arms. He, in turn, was clearly besotted.

Looking at Elena with eyes that held a piercing joy, Majda said, “We will be staying here. Near our family.”

Beth, leaning against Elena, clapped her hands as Elena smiled . . . but her heart, it wasn’t in this city she loved or with the people who meant so much to her. It was with an archangel with wings of white gold who was in the heart of nightmare.