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)
The fair-haired boy with red cheeks was around sixteen in human terms, which made him old enough to have been permitted to help in the aftermath of the quake. “Consort.” His chest heaved as he gulped in air, but the boy somehow managed to keep his wings from drooping. “There is a message from your home. The sire’s second has marked it as urgent.”
Face chilling, Elena took the folded piece of paper he held out. The message must’ve come through the network used only for the Refuge. It had taken Elena time to work out that the Refuge network was a “ghost” system that lay below the interconnected one used by the vast majority of people around the world.
Any wires or other devices were buried underground or placed in locations angelkind alone could reach. The system was also constantly monitored by a small and dedicated team to ensure any accidental incursions were nudged away or otherwise dealt with in ways that roused no suspicions.
“Incursions are rare,” Illium had told her when he’d explained the system he’d helped put in place when the technology first became viable, and which he still helped upgrade as needed. “The technical stuff will bore you, but think of our network as a shadow so deep and dark that it becomes invisible.”
There was talk of upgrading the system to a satellite-based one, but obviously people could see satellites, so it’d need to be attached to some other more obvious purpose. And none of that mattered as Elena undid the seal that told her the message had been taken by their senior steward, Yana, then handed to the young courier.
It was short and to the point: Elena, your father has suffered a serious heart attack. He’s in critical condition in the ICU. Your stepmother has requested you return home. The jet will be ready for you as soon as you can make it to the airfield.
Elena’s mind buzzed with silence, an echoing void that gave her the distance to make rapid-fire decisions. “Thank you,” she said to the boy who’d brought the message. “No return message yet.” She’d send it directly herself.
The boy nodded and stepped back to take off. Even so young, vertical flight was effortless for him; it was a wonder she’d never take for granted. But even as her panicked mind wanted to snag on the sight of an angel in flight, she was moving, her own throbbing wing thrust to the back of her awareness.
The first thing she did was find one of their senior people—it happened to be Naasir. His shaggy silver hair tied back, he was shirtless, his skin slick with sweat as he helped cart dangerous debris off to an area where it wouldn’t be a threat to the residents of the Refuge.
When she told him what had happened, he said, “Go. I’ll tell the others.”
Numb, she looked around at the devastation. “There’s so much to do here.”
“He is your father, Ellie. I would do the same if it were Dmitri or Honor hurt.” He tilted his chin at the sky. “We’re awash in strong angels who came for the ball. The physical work will be done in a matter of days and you’re puny anyway.”
She knew from the way he cupped her face with one big hand on that last that he was attempting to lighten her guilt. It worked. Because he was right. In the overall scheme of things, she was puny. “Will you say goodbye to Sam and the other children? I won’t have time.” She knew the children adored Naasir—even if he did growl at them when he caught them doing mischief.
They saw and loved the primal creature inside him in a way many adults didn’t.
“Yes,” he promised before wrapping her in his arms and rubbing the side of his face against hers. “You are your father’s cub. Go. He will want you by his side.”
Her numbness threatened to crack, her eyes burning. Jerking away on a nod, she headed to their stronghold, which had survived unscathed for the most part. Normally, she’d fly to the airfield, but with her wing injured, she asked Yana—small and fast and dazzlingly smart—to arrange other transport.
It ended up being a truck with an enclosed cab designed for angelic comfort, her driver a five-hundred-year-old vampire who’d grown up in the region in which the Refuge was based.
He drove like he was part mountain goat.
At any other time, she would’ve bantered with him about his lack of fear and insane reflexes, but this trip passed in silence.
He got her to the airfield in half the time it would’ve taken anyone else.
“Thank you,” she managed.
Thick beard gleaming in the early evening light, he bowed from the waist. “It is my honor, Consort.”
She was in her seat in the jet soon afterward when she realized she had a faint signal. Deciding to take advantage of it before they got in the air, she messaged Dmitri: Any change in his condition?