“Caliane speaks to you?”
“No—to Jessamy. Even then it’s not often, but Jessamy visited her soon after you left Amanat; she said Caliane was most gracious and generous.” Andromeda knew the Historian, her wing twisted and unable to take her aloft, remained highly conscious of not being glimpsed by ordinary mortals, for angelkind could not be seen to be weak in such a way, but that wasn’t an issue in Amanat.
When Jessamy wanted to view things in more populated environs, she skimmed the landscape in a light plane or in a helicopter modified to fit angelic wings while hiding the occupants from view. Usually the occupant was a single slender angel. Jessamy had quietly learned to operate both those vehicles.
Andromeda saw in Jessamy’s determination a woman who was her hero. The other angel had survived thousands of years before inventors gave her a way to take to the skies on her own. Andromeda could survive five hundred years in a court devoid of hope.
“According to Caliane,” she said, setting aside the inevitable for this night, “counting Alexander, there are seven archangels who Sleep.”
“What if they all wake up at once?”
“It would be catastrophic.” Archangels couldn’t be in close proximity for long periods without a dangerous rise in their aggression. Ten was the perfect number spread out across the world. One or two more could be accommodated, but after that . . . “We’d end up with back-to-back wars until the balance was restored.”
“Natural law,” Naasir said bluntly. “Nature will always seek to maintain balance.”
“Yes.” She checked on Suyin again, shook her head when Naasir looked at her. “No improvement.”
Face set in harsh lines, Naasir kept on walking.
“I don’t only study Sleeping archangels,” Andromeda said in an effort to keep their minds off the bleak situation. “If you promise not to laugh, I’ll tell you about my other studies.”
Open curiosity. “Tell me.”
“Promise you won’t laugh first.”
Lips curving, Naasir snapped his teeth playfully at her. “How can you ask me to make the promise after that?”
She glared because he’d made her jump again, but told him. “I study creatures,” she said, waiting for the condescending amusement she saw so often on the faces of her colleagues. “Like shape-shifters,” she continued when he just listened, “mermen and mermaids, griffins, chimera, walkers . . . things like that.”
“Why study the impossible?”
“Because the stories must’ve begun somewhere. And . . . I like to think there remain mysteries in the world.”
“I think mermen and mermaids make sense.”
“You do?” She narrowed her eyes but he didn’t look like he was making fun of her. “Why?”
“The world is covered in water. Why shouldn’t a species have evolved to live in that water?” A silver-eyed glance. “You should ask the Primary. Maybe the Legion are the truth behind the legend. They did live an eon in the deep.”
The hairs rose on her arms. “I’ve been desperate to speak to them,” she whispered, her historian’s heart overflowing. “I know Jessamy’s had some contact with the Primary, but I didn’t want to ask for his time for my little subspecialty.”
“I’ll introduce you when you’re ready,” Naasir said. “I’ll even sneak you into their new green home.”
Andromeda almost danced on the spot, forgetting for a moment that she wouldn’t have the freedom to do such things soon. “What about griffins?”
He took time to think before speaking. “I think the stories must come from large birds of prey in primordial times.”
“That’s my theory, too.” Childishly happy to discover that his mind was so open, she said, “Skinwalkers?”
“No. But, I knew a medicine man once who walked with a spirit guide. He understood the land and all its creatures better than anyone I’ve ever since met.” His tone held unvarnished respect. “Mortals die too quickly. The medicine man was wiser than many an immortal, but he was gone almost before I knew him.”
“You miss him,” Andromeda said softly.
“He was my friend.”
Her throat grew thick. “Will you tell me about him?”
“Yes, later.” A curl of his lip over his fangs. “My friend was a man who lived on the plains under an open sky. He does not belong in this forest tainted with reborn. What other creatures are on your list?”
“Chupacabra.”
“I hope it exists. It has the best name.”
Andromeda giggled. “Chimera?”
“A snake-tailed animal with a lion’s body and a goat’s head attached to its spine?” He snorted. “His goat head would unbalance him before he ever took a step, and he’d immediately get eaten by something bigger. And wouldn’t the lion head constantly be trying to eat the goat head?”
Andromeda had to agree, fascinating though such a creature might’ve been. “I never could figure out how that would work.” She tapped her chin. “But what a strange thing for people to imagine. Just like the karakasa-obake.”
“I don’t know that one.”
So, as the rain tapered off into a fine mist, she told him about the talking umbrella with one eye and one leg, and they kept on walking.
* * *
Naasir was having fun talking with Andromeda, playing with her—though she didn’t know it yet—when he smelled black lightning. A shadow passed overhead and then a piece of the night was separating out to land in front of them. Taking in their bloodied state, Jason said, “You eradicated the remnants of the nest.”