“Would you like a cup of coffee?” Elena asked, stifling her impatience to get to the Tower—Eve’s future welfare could depend on what Gwendolyn chose to do next.
“No, I’ve already had too much caffeine.” Gwendolyn’s confession was a fracture in the reserve. “I appreciate you helping Eve.”
“This is serious, Gwendolyn,” Elena said, struggling with the ethics of whether or not she had the right to share the truth about her biological grandmother. “Jeffrey really scared her. I don’t think he’s ever going to come to terms with the fact she’s hunter-born.”
The other woman’s cheekbones pushed white against her skin. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t pull anything like this ever again.”
Elena had total faith in Gwendolyn’s love for her daughters, but she understood her father far better today than she’d ever before done. “You can’t watch her all the time.”
“No, but even though Jeffrey and I might not have the relationship he had with your mother”—a bleak reference to a painful earlier conversation where Gwendolyn had admitted she’d known of Jeffrey’s former mistress, and that the woman bore a faded resemblance to Marguerite—“your father needs me in a way I doubt you’d understand.” A sad smile. “He’ll keep his end of our bargain.”
“Mom!” Eve tumbled out the front door at that instant, racing to Gwendolyn.
As the other woman’s slender arms hugged her daughter tight, Elena hoped Gwendolyn was right in her judgment of Jeffrey. Because Elena would not stand by and watch him hurt Eve as he’d hurt her.
“I’ll do whatever I have to, to protect her,” she said to Raphael later that day, outside the warehouse being used as an observation facility.
Raphael had expected nothing less from his consort. “I’ve ordered our communications team to monitor Eve’s name, as well as the flight plans of the Deveraux family jet. You’ll know within minutes should there be anything that throws up a red flag.”
The chain-link fence at Elena’s back was a harsh reminder of the grim reason why they stood here, but her radiant smile threw that into the shade. “Thank you, Archangel.” A distinct and very Elena glint in her eye. “It’s extremely awesome to be consort to a man who is lord of all he surveys.”
“That, Consort,” he said, having already told her of his discussion with Titus, “is a fact Charisemnon and Lijuan would like to change.”
“You know, that Charisemnon guy always wigged me out. Now I know why.” Folding her arms, she met his gaze. “I’ve asked Sara to make me inactive on the Guild roster for the time being. Tell me what you need me to do to help you ready the city for an assault.”
35
He cupped her jaw, proud of the woman who was his own, who didn’t flinch from standing by his side, come what may. “Talk to the vampire leaders, have them contain the panic within the groups to which they have access. We can’t afford any more impromptu executions.”
Elena scowled. “Talk? I figured you’d want me working with the ground troops or something.”
“Talk—not as a hunter, but as my consort.” Dropping his hand from her jaw, he wrapped his arm around her waist in readiness for takeoff. “Your presence will make the seriousness of the request apparent without further orders on my part.”
“I suppose I can dig up some civilized-but-scary manners.” A kiss on the mouth as they rose into the air, the taste of her lush intoxication. “I don’t know absolutely all of the vamp leaders. Does the Tower have a list?”
“Illium’ll go with you. He knows each by name.”
“Wouldn’t he be the better option to talk to them?”
“Before I had a consort, yes. Now, you speak with my voice.”
That ring of silver bright under the winter sunlight, her expression suddenly solemn. “I won’t let you down.”
“I know.”
Ten minutes later, he watched her take to the skies with Illium. Do not allow her to come to harm.
I’ll protect her with my blade and my life.
Shifting his attention from the midnight and dawn of Elena’s wings on the strength of Illium’s promise, he picked up the phone. It was time for his second to return to New York.
• • •
Raphael spent the rest of the day finalizing the transfer of his senior vampires and angels into the city, while Aodhan handled daily Tower operations and Dmitri—linking in from the jet Raphael had sent for him and Honor—worked with his trusted people to ensure their permitted weapons reserves were at maximum. The next step would be to place anti-wing guns on a number of rooftops.
“We’ll do it in the short lull after the late revelers head home and the early risers are yet asleep,” Illium told him, the lights of a night-cloaked Manhattan glittering at his back as the two of them stood at the apex of the Tower. “Better the guns appear overnight than to have the curious watching and broadcasting our efforts in the daytime.”
“Agreed.” Raphael’s city never truly slept, but it was quietest in those twilight hours. “Do you have enough people to get it done within that time frame?”
“Yes. Aodhan can also assist now that Dmitri has returned to take over Tower operations.” A steady glance from golden eyes shadowed by thick black lashes dipped in blue. “Sire, you can’t be here.”
When Raphael raised an eyebrow, Illium stood his ground. “Forget the enemy, the morale of our own troops will take a severe hit if you’re seen to be assisting in such a ‘mundane’ task.”