Weaker people died. They got broken.
He hadn’t seen Sahil in a hundred and fifty years and still he thought about his friend, still he listened for news of him. So he understood what it meant for Illium to have sent Aodhan into dangerous territory without a good-bye. “What happened?”
Eyes of aged gold bearing a mix of pain, sadness, and anger, Illium spread out his wings, then snapped them back in with vicious force. “You weren’t there after we found him. If you’d seen . . . And now he tells me he doesn’t need my care?” His hands fisted.
Venom had already been accepted into the Seven when Aodhan was captured by a twisted angel who wanted to own Aodhan’s beauty, but as the most junior member, he’d been stationed in the then-rugged wild of New York. The hunt for Aodhan had taken place far from there.
By the time Venom was fully trained and cleared for Refuge access, where Aodhan made his home, the angel was back but not whole. Fundamentally fractured. “I’ve never really known Aodhan as he was before,” he said to Illium. “I’ve only known the angel who buried himself in the Refuge and who shut out nearly the entire world.”
Illium looked up, frowning. “He came to New York when you first joined the Seven. We all did.”
“Yes,” Venom said. “But he could only stay a week. And that week was full of training sessions with all of you, with only scattered downtime.” Most of which the Seven had spent together, bonding quickly into a cohesive unit.
Aodhan had been acting as Raphael’s personal courier then, and, seven days after his arrival, the sire had needed him to deliver an important package; he and Venom had shaken good-bye with a smile, knowing they had centuries to forge a deeper personal friendship. “Then, he was gone.” For a length of time that was difficult to think about even now. “And so the man I truly know is the one from after. I have no substantial memories of him from before.”
Illium stared uncomprehendingly at him. “Venom, he was dazzling. Strong, a lightning bolt in the sky, an angel who didn’t speak as often as the rest of us, but who’d back down from no challenge—and who’d be our shield in any battle. He was the best of us.”
“Then why are you afraid now that he’s becoming himself again?” Venom had seen the changes from a distance, witnessed it in the art Aodhan had begun to produce. The angel had always been gifted, even in his darkness, but this new art, it carried a subtle inner light missing from the work he’d produced after his rescue.
Illium stared at him for so long that Venom almost expected an archangelic glow to limn the angel’s wings. “I’m not afraid,” he said at long last, a hitch in his voice. “I’ve waited so long for him to find his wings again.”
“What if it means those wings will take him far from you?” Venom said softly. “What if it means Sparkle and Bluebell will no longer be spoken of in one breath?” He could see the problem because unlike Raphael or Dmitri, he hadn’t watched Illium and Aodhan grow up, wasn’t locked into the perception of the two as an unbreakable unit. He saw them as the best of friends—but friendships could break.
Illium physically staggered, bracing himself against the window right before Holly and the others walked back into the room. Venom didn’t say anything further. This was a conversation he and Illium had needed to have in private, and now it was done—and Venom had other priorities.
He looked at Holly. She met his eyes, came to join him . . . after a pause long enough to make it clear the decision was her own. Bright and wild and fragile. Nothing like the others in the Seven. Nothing like the people with whom Venom had surrounded himself after the last of his brothers died of old age.
And yet he didn’t move from her side.
“When you feel the alien power,” Honor said from where she’d taken a seat in Dmitri’s executive chair, her husband leaning his folded arms on the back of the chair, “is it purely a sensation of pain, or more?”
Holly rubbed at her forehead. “It’s overwhelming,” she said slowly. “Pain . . . but also a pull.” The last words seemed to startle her. “I didn’t consciously realize it until now, but it’s an insistent low-level draw that’s been present since what happened with Daisy.” A jagged exhale. “It’s getting stronger in front of me, harder to ignore.”
Venom took in the delicate lines of her face and thought of those wings with feathers sharp as blades shoving at her. “Is the pull to a person or a place?”
“I don’t know. A . . . direction.” Placing her hand on her chest, fingers outspread, she took a couple of steps backward to give herself clear air, then began to turn in a slow circle. And a faint acid green glow speared through her fingers.
26
Venom heard Dmitri suck in a harsh breath, but the other man didn’t ask Holly to stop. She did two full revolutions before coming to a standstill. “This way.” Her voice was definitive. “And it’s far, far from here.”
Lifting her hand, she pointed.
“Europe,” Illium said into the silence. “That way lies Europe.”
Michaela.
The other archangel’s name was a silent vibration in the room. “It makes sense,” Dmitri said, as if they’d spoken the name aloud. “Michaela was also impacted by Uram. Holly could be drawn to her the same way she was to Daisy.”
Holly nodded slowly. “When we entered the house where we eventually found Daisy, I did feel a compulsion toward the room where she was hiding, but it was like static. Cutting in and out. This is far stronger, must be linked back to whatever passed from Daisy to me.” Her fist on her chest, knuckles massaging the impact spot.
“Except,” Illium said, “there’s a problem.” He took out a slim black phone and brought up a program before asking Holly to point again and holding the phone out along the same line as her arm.
As the acidic glow reappeared, the blue-winged angel said, “If we draw a line from Holly’s fingertip to Europe and keep going, we slice right through Budapest.”
The heart of Michaela’s territory.
“Then what’s the—” Dmitri bit off his question. “Michaela’s currently with the Cadre and away from home.”
“Exactly,” Illium murmured as Holly finally lowered her hand and, with a wince, breathed deep. The glow pulsed for another three seconds before disappearing.
Honor leaned forward on Dmitri’s desk, deep green eyes tilted up at the corners troubled. “It could mean Michaela has Made someone else like Holly.”
“A possibility.” Venom knew too well that people were always driven to replicate the unusual and unexpected. “Holly, do you feel a draw toward Morocco?”
“Add the path to China to the mix,” Dmitri said. “I planned to call you and Illium in for a meeting this morning anyway. I’ve had word that Elena is homeward bound and will be arriving soon, but Raphael and the rest of the Cadre have left for Lijuan’s territory.”
Illium helpfully pointed out the correct directions.
Holly turned, concentrated, but shook her head. “Nothing,” she said. “But the second I go back along this line”—she angled herself toward the heart of Michaela’s territory again . . . and the glow pulsed—“there.”
She turned away to rub at her chest. “It’s as if I’m tied to something with an invisible thread and it’s pulling me closer. It’s getting increasingly difficult to fight the urge to head that way.”
Venom ran her tail of rainbow-colored hair through his fist. “Do we need to reloca—”
“No.” A scowl up at him, her voice firm. “No more running. I need to know what this is, and I need to face it.” She looked across to Dmitri. “I want permission to leave the territory and follow the pull, wherever it leads.”
Dmitri held her gaze for a long time before shifting his attention to Venom and Illium. “Security assessment?”
“New York will be fine without me,” Venom said, because they all knew Dmitri wouldn’t authorize Holly to head into another archangel’s territory on her own. “The squadrons are strong, and you have access to both Janvier and Trace.” Neither vampire was as powerful as Venom, but together, they came close.