Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 112287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 561(@200wpm)___ 449(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 561(@200wpm)___ 449(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
“I want to ask her why the ocean.” Raphael shoved a hand through his hair. “Never did I expect this.”
Lightning burst out of the clouds before Elena could reply.
“Drop!” he yelled even as she did the same. They both collapsed their wings to accelerate the fall—but Raphael stayed above her, in the path of any bolt to come.
He’d survive a hit. She wouldn’t, not even with his cells in her body.
She landed hard on the sand. Lightning was still hitting the water and the sand in strikes that burned the air when he joined her. Throwing an archangelic shield around them both, he ran with her to the shelter provided by the house.
The lightning might damage the structure, but at least it wouldn’t be a direct strike on their heads. He’d seen several other angels fall from the sky at the first sign of the lightning storm and wasn’t surprised when the Cadre ended up gathered on the wide covered balcony.
Aggravation at the headache-inducing hum or not, no one had gone far.
“We do it now,” Titus said without preamble. “We have to know if it’ll work.”
No verbal replies. The eight of them just placed their relics and hands one on top of the other. Elena waited till the end, then looked at him.
* * *
* * *
Now, hbeebti.
Elena felt as if every cell in her body was vibrating in time with the energy that boiled the air. The entire living Cadre—and Marduk; so much power that it eclipsed the lightning that lit up the world in deadly flashes.
She didn’t want to touch that stack of hands that glowed obsidian-blue, but she had no real choice. As the “base” would have no real choice. Because if that person held the trust of the entire Cadre, then they were a person with a good heart.
Here goes nothing, Archangel.
Glad that Raphael’s hand was at the very top, she reached out and placed her own over his.
55
Nothing happened.
Even the lightning stopped.
A pulse later and their hands vanished in flames of obsidian-blue, and she could hear the melody in her head, perfect and piercing . . . and emanating from one specific direction. She turned, looked that way, and knew. “The Refuge!” Her throat felt as if she was screaming, and only then did she realize that the world was thunder, rain crashing around them with a force she’d never before experienced.
“Are you certain?” Caliane demanded, her face obscured by the obsidian-blue fire that held no warmth.
Elena made herself concentrate, even as an unknown force pushed her body to lean in that direction. “That way!” Gritting her teeth against the pressure, she pointed a finger on the exact bearing. “Either the Refuge or on the path to it!”
She tore her hand away from the others.
Breathless, she leaned over with her palms on her thighs, Raphael beside her. “I can still hear it,” she said through her heaving breaths. “The melody. It hasn’t lost any of its strength. I can feel the direction in my bones.” A literal vibration, as if she was a tuning fork.
“Can you fly in this heaviness of rain?” Alexander demanded, his hands on his hips.
“Yes.” To Raphael, she said, Archangel, I have no idea if I can or not, but I have to try. We have to try.
“We fly above Elena in a line.” Raphael’s voice was a command. “Shield her.”
Not even Aegaeon protested. Elena didn’t say anything, either. Because this wasn’t about her pride. This was about Sam and Zoe and Maggie and Laurent and countless other children who’d hurt and scream and die if the world spiraled into a chaos of destruction.
Already dressed in the streamlined cold-weather leather jacket she’d brought along, she zipped it up to her throat, her small pack abandoned on the balcony. “Ready, Archangel.”
Two seconds later, the entire Cadre was aloft.
Elena’s heart caught at the sheer power of the sight, at the magnificence of these beings through whose veins ran energies so violent they could destroy the world itself. But she had only a breath or two to admire them before they settled into formation.
Taking a deep breath, she rose up through the driving rain, protected from the pounding only by the wings that created a living shield above her. The pressure eased at some point, and when she looked up, she saw that the archangels had stacked themselves in rows of three, creating a carpet of wings.
It was a carpet permeable, however; rain got through. But the protection still made it far easier for her to fly than if she were directly exposed. All the while, she thought about why she was the one to hear the melody. Yes, she had a piece of Raphael’s heart inside her, but if it was about that, he should’ve heard the song, too. And it should’ve been far louder for him.