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)
“Illium on his way to the Enclave?” She knew the blue-winged angel had been in charge of clearing the infirmary with the wings under his command.
“He and his team completed their task in under a minute.” Pride was a quiet underscore to the words. “Picked up the patients in their beds and flew. They’re crossing the Hudson, will be at the Enclave shortly.”
All wings not assigned to specific tasks would land on rooftops within sight line of the Tower, ready to assist.
Raphael would join her once he completed stage two of the plan: he was the final contingency, the one person who could survive being blown up. He’d use his mind to search for anyone trapped, unconscious, or otherwise injured who couldn’t call for help, then go in to get those people.
Elena didn’t particularly like the idea of her archangel being blown up, even if she knew he would—eventually—come back. He’d still suffer impossible pain and horror. But a bare thirty seconds after his voice had hit her mind, she saw the sunlight glitter off the distinctive white-gold of his wings as he took off from the Tower roof.
Evacuation complete.
A cheer went up around them, but it was muted. Because the reason for the evacuation was obvious now—the scales had crawled up the Legion building until it was all but engulfed.
When she turned to look at the Hudson, she saw sprays of water that drove several meters into the air and hoped the infirmary team was clear. Beside her, Aodhan opened his wings and took off without a word. None were needed. She’d known why he was standing next to her—because she was Raphael’s consort, and if this were a war, she’d be a high-value target.
His job was to help her protect herself while Raphael couldn’t.
The sky remained a searing white that hurt the eyes, and even as she felt the gust of wind that was her archangel landing next to her, the heavens opened up, though there wasn’t a single cloud in that white sky, and rain began to hit them in a hard burst . . . only it wasn’t rain.
42
Elena stared at her hands, then looked at Raphael’s hair, his wings.
“Raphael, is this . . .”
“I’ll kill them,” he gritted out, doing something with his power that blasted the iridescent angel dust off him and her. Then he created a bubble of power that meant they wouldn’t be recoated in the stuff. “Whoever it is, however old they are, I will strangle them with my bare hands.”
Elena’s lips twitched. She couldn’t help it.
Hbeebti, do not think I didn’t see that.
Sorry. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing as, around them, others exclaimed at the dusting of a substance that was considered more valuable than diamonds by mortals—but that could also be an intimate act among angelkind.
It’s likely one of your Bluebell’s ancestors waking up, was the bad-tempered response as Raphael glared at the final disappearing meters of the Legion building. Dusting another archangel? This one wants war. His Legion mark burned with wildfire as vivid as it had been when the Legion walked the earth.
Elena patted his arm. Or they’re just old and lost control. Be polite. Don’t mention it.
Another burst from the sky—and this time it was rain. Washing away all that precious angel dust. Elena hoped some mortals had been fast enough to scoop up and store a handful. They’d get a pretty penny for it, be able to pay for an entire university education or even buy a house, depending on their haul.
Raphael dropped the bubble. “At least the idiot is polite enough to offer a shower in the aftermath.”
Crisp and cold, the rainburst vanished as quickly as it had come, but it left behind a film of shimmering scales across Manhattan. It was beautiful, Elena had to admit, but then she looked again at the Legion building and felt her heart break.
All these years, she’d held it safe, kept it thriving for the day the Legion would return, only for it to be encased by the massive power of an archangel who had never known the astonishing, eerie, and loyal beings who’d won her heart.
Raphael’s wing brushed over hers before he wrapped an arm around her shoulders to tug her close to his side. “Plants grow again,” he murmured to her. “Your Legion would understand.”
“They weren’t my Legion.”
“In this, they were.” A brush of his lips over her wet hair as they stood there watching the colors of this unknown archangel eat up the last green pieces of the Legion building.
Everything stopped. The world hushed.
And then . . .
Elena sucked in a breath.
The Legion building was morphing. It was literally twisting into the shape of an enormous snake . . . No. She frowned. Not a snake. Leaning back, she looked at the mark on Raphael’s temple, then at the wildness taking place where the Legion building had stood. “That’s a freaking dragon.”