Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 118699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 593(@200wpm)___ 475(@250wpm)___ 396(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 593(@200wpm)___ 475(@250wpm)___ 396(@300wpm)
Another Sleeper was waking. A Sleeper Cassandra couldn’t quite see.
A Sleeper who wanted no one to see them, know them.
35
Alexander woke to Zanaya’s jerk.
Immediately vigilant, he found her staring across the span of his chest at what, to him, appeared to be a small wounded animal. His instinct was to assist the creature, but from the state of its fur—patches fallen off to reveal mottled green skin—and the smell that came off it, the poor being had a wound that had gone septic.
“It’s sick,” he said, stroking his hand down the rigid line of Zanaya’s spine. “I’ll give it mercy—there’s nothing else that can be done for it now.” He did so in a way that was both quick and painless.
Expression grim in the aftermath, Zanaya helped him bury the tormented creature, and they cleaned themselves in the icy waters of a nearby stream. It was only afterward, while they were seated on large rocks in a dawn-gray clearing some distance away that she said, “If I hadn’t seen that animal move, I’d have thought it dead. It had dirt and leaf debris clinging to it as if it crawled from where it had been buried by nature.”
Alexander knew where she was going with this, shook his head. “The animal bled red. Its blood was thick and clearly affected by infection, but it bled red. Lijuan’s creatures do not.”
A long stare before Zanaya exhaled. “I’m very glad to hear that, lover. The hurt creature must’ve been disoriented and in pain.” A fist rubbing her heart. “I see what you mean now, about seeing nightmares wherever I turn.”
“It’ll pass,” he promised her, and gave her a handful of berries he’d scavenged while she’d been considering the events of that morning.
A sudden smile. “You’ve picked me berries countless times over the eons, and I love it as much today as I did the first time.” Tilting up her head in a silent request for a kiss, she was a lovely whimsical creature with a core of molten steel.
He loved every part of her.
Their first kiss was soft, sweeter than anyone might imagine. Their second kiss tasted of the berries she’d eaten while he’d scavenged for more in the nearby bush. And for a treasured beat, they could just be Alexander and Zani, two lovers who had nowhere to be and nothing much to do.
Then the sun emerged to caress the world in warmth and there were no more berries.
“So,” Zanaya said, “let’s go see Titus so I can discuss territorial matters with him, face-to-face.”
* * *
* * *
Alexander had little time alone with Zanaya over the next twenty-four hours—at which point they prepared to walk into a meeting of the Cadre.
A physical meeting.
The Cadre hadn’t met in person for years; there’d been no need, no urgency, and every archangel in the world was content to stay in and stabilize territories badly impacted by the war. Even those who’d paid less of a physical price had a traumatized populace that had witnessed nightmare after nightmare in Lijuan’s war.
This modern world with all its devices capable of communication . . . no, there wasn’t one corner of the planet that hadn’t stood witness to what Lijuan had done. Beginning with the careless mountain of flesh where her people had dumped their wounded fighters, and ending with thousands of decaying bodies strewn across Manhattan.
So no, none of them had seen any need to waste time on meeting in person.
Zanaya’s resurrection, however, had set the Cadre abuzz. Everyone wanted to lay their eyes on her.
“Our compatriots,” Zanaya had said with acerbic humor, “want to see with their own eyes that I haven’t returned a shriveled-up mummy—nor an insane reborn frothing at the mouth.”
Alexander had been forced to admit the truth. “I’d be the same,” he’d said with a groan. “We are base creatures at heart.”
But then Zanaya had laughed, one of those deeply infectious laughs that came straight from her core. “So would I, lover. I was turned into a mummy! Had I witnessed that, I wouldn’t believe in my resurrection, either.”
So it was that they were to meet, the location a sprawling fort in Northern Africa. In the courtyard of which Alexander now stood with Titus, the space expansive and planted with multiple trees heavy with fruit or vibrant with blooms.
“It used to belong to that donkey’s excrement, Charisemnon.” Titus, the deep mahogany hue of his skin aglow under the sunshine, spit on the ground after uttering the dead archangel’s name. “But Euphenia dislikes waste and remembered this place as a haven of beauty and art before Charisemnon stunk it up, so she took charge of having it cleaned and otherwise cleansed. Sharine tells me ancient angelic fire rituals were involved. Phenie also asked a respected mortal healer of places to do his chants and ceremonies.”