Two hours later, enough plants and supplies had been delivered that she put the Legion to work. It would take time for the modifications to the top floors to be completed; in the interim, she’d decided to transform the entire first floor into a place where plants could thrive and the Legion could rest.
Elena understood the need for a haven, a safe place.
With Maeve’s consent and advice, the winged fighters had already knocked down walls that weren’t load-bearing, opening up the space. They’d also ripped up the carpet and cleaned the floor so it was smooth. All of it since six that morning.
As she helped rig things up so this floor would have adequate heat and humidity, then showed the Legion fighters how to handle the more delicate plants, she began to feel her own body relax. Their pleasure in the earth was transcendent, the haunting peace of it wrapping her in its wings . . . until her skin rippled with a cold shiver, her heart punching into her rib cage.
She could hear them, the echo of whispers that together was a mind created of hundreds; it was a rushing, overwhelming sound inside her skull, like a wave crashing inside a cave. “Stop,” she gasped out.
Silence.
The Primary was in front of her seconds later. “The consort does not wish to join our conversation?”
That was when Elena understood the voices had been an invitation. “One at a time,” she said, not sure quite what she was doing but feeling an odd sense of . . . vulnerability around her. “I want to know you one at a time.”
A rustling consternation.
“We are one,” the Primary said. “We are the Legion.”
“This,” she said, brushing her hands over the miniature mandarin orange tree in front of her, “is one. The root systems, the trunk, the branches, the leaves, they all act together with one goal. Yet not one of the leaves is exactly the same. You can be one without being identical copies.”
Muted whispers, the Legion attempting to be quiet for her benefit. It cut off when the Primary looked around the room. Returning his gaze to Elena, he said, “We will consider the idea of being one without being one.”
• • •
Elena was pretty sure the Legion continued their whispering discussion long after she left late in the afternoon. It had been eerie to be in a silent room when she’d known a heated debate was going on between its inhabitants.
Having showered and changed at the Tower, she swept out under the rays of the setting sun, more than ready to go home, be with Raphael and their friends. She’d only been in the air a matter of seconds when she received a message from Demarco.
You owe me fifty bucks. Bill Smith was waiting patiently in line for his bus.
She couldn’t believe it; when they’d run into each other at their mutual favorite coffee place at dawn that morning, and he’d shared his plan for catching the vampire, she’d told him he was losing it. “Shows what I know,” she muttered and sent him a reply before sliding her phone away into a zipped pocket.
Archangel? she said, unsure if she’d reach him. He’d taken a specialist squadron out over the sea to practice maneuvers. Now, more than ever, the Tower’s defenses had to be airtight. New York couldn’t appear wounded prey to the hostile forces who watched. On the other hand, their people were tired. It was why Dmitri had staggered exercises so every fighter would have more days off than usual in rotation.
The wind swept into her mind, licked with rain and the endless sea. I’ll be home soon, hbeebti. Naasir has said he will behave if he arrives first.
Well, he has promised not to eat me, so that’s something.
Illium fell into flight with her as Raphael’s laughter lingered in her mind, while her Legion escort flew far enough overhead that it was unobtrusive. Angling her wings slightly so she could talk to the blue-winged angel beside her, the silver filaments in his feathers catching the fading light, she said, “Are you coming to dinner, too?”
It was odd. She’d initially invited Naasir, Janvier, and Ash. The small team had become a tight unit during the fighting and she knew Naasir hadn’t yet had a chance to catch up with Ash. All three had accepted the invitation, but the weird thing was, suddenly every member of the Seven who was in the vicinity had the night off to join them.
Illium’s golden eyes gleamed beneath the blue-tipped black of his eyelashes. “Oh, yes, I’m definitely coming to dinner.”
Elena wasn’t an idiot. “What are you expecting Naasir to do?”
Illium dived toward the water at breathtaking speed, came up at a steep angle. “Word is,” he said, “Naasir’s bringing you a present.”
That didn’t sound ominous . . . until she considered who they were talking about.
Illium shot up to the sun before she could question him about Naasir’s gift-giving proclivities.
Elena kept to a more lazy flight homeward. Montgomery had promised her double chocolate fudge cake, and, whatever Naasir’s present, it couldn’t hold a candle to the butler’s double chocolate fudge cake—Montgomery made it himself from scratch, guarded the recipe like a dragon with his treasure.
When her phone rang, she answered it with a smile. “I was waiting to hear from you,” she said to her younger sister Eve. “How did the exam go?”
“It wasn’t as hard as my friends and I thought it would be,” Eve said, voice ebullient, and the two of them fell into an easy conversation.
Landing on the snow-covered lawn of her and Raphael’s Enclave home not long after she and Eve said good-bye, she watched Illium come down fast and neat. Aodhan dropped out of the sky at a slower pace, the early evening light fracturing off him in dazzling sparks.
“How’s the wing feel?” she asked, having noticed the last-minute correction he’d made to keep from toppling sideways.
“Significant weakness, but I must continue to exercise it at this stage of the healing process.” He stretched both wings out to their full breadth, folded them back in again.
Never, she thought, would she get used to the impossibility of Aodhan, to the feathers and hair that seemed coated with crushed diamonds that refracted light in endless shards. “Just make sure you don’t push it too far.” Hunters and Tower personnel, they both chafed at being grounded. Aodhan hadn’t mentioned pain, but she knew it had to be bad.
The immortal ability to survive brutal wounds came at an agonizing price.
“Don’t worry, Ellie.” Illium bumped a fist gently off Aodhan’s jaw, his skin warm gold against the sunshine-touched alabaster of Aodhan’s. “I sicced Keir on him two days ago when he refused to listen to reason. You haven’t seen a set-down until you’ve seen Keir delivering it.” A wince. “Poor Sparkle.”