Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 121854 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121854 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
“I’m afraid I must get back to my duties.” He kept it polite though he could’ve pulled rank—in strict angelic hierarchical terms, he outranked her by a considerable margin. He was in the inner circle of an archangel, held more innate power—and was still growing and developing—while she was an angel of a certain age and power who would never progress any further.
But strict hierarchies weren’t how the angelic world worked. Céline was connected by sheer dint of having been a social creature for centuries upon centuries. She no doubt had the ears of seconds and archangels through their courts, and if he made an enemy of her, she could decide to become a snake in the grass who whispered against Raphael for spite.
It might come to nothing, but there was no point in creating an enemy when he could as easily create a contact for future informational needs—because Céline would always be a social, connected creature.
“But I will convey your admiration of her to Lady Sharine,” he said before she could interrupt. “She has been weighing up the idea of hosting a gathering of artists in Titus’s territory once our world has settled better into this post-war peace. Maybe toward the end of the next decade, though it may take longer. Shall I inform her that you would be interested to attend?”
Her eyes glowed with a joy so earnest, it cut through all falsehood. “My dearest Aodhan—may I call you that?—my heart would stop should I receive such an invitation. It does not matter what I have on my schedule, I will wipe it all off the very day I receive word of this event. A decade or two is nothing, will fly by in but a heartbeat.”
Her hand fluttered up. “Oh, I must prepare.” A sudden intensity to her expression that cut away all artifice to reveal the burning core of a woman with a passion. “I will make a piece of art, a gift worthy of the Hummingbird.”
Leaving her on that happy note, Aodhan signed off.
Her assistant had already sent through the list of dealers worldwide, neatly separated by country and region. He forwarded parts of the wider local section through to both Illium and Janvier. He’d apprised the vampire of the situation, and Janvier was more than willing to assist. “To lose family,” he’d said, “it is an anguish, but to have them stolen? The grief becomes a spiked spear that shreds.”
That done, he sent Lady Sharine a message about Céline’s desire to attend the planned gathering and her intention to make art for Eh-ma. No reply, but he didn’t expect one quickly. While Eh-ma had embraced technology after her “waking,” she wasn’t tied to it, would see the message when she saw it.
Then he dropped by Dmitri’s office to give him an update on the investigation.
“Navarro’s home,” Dmitri told him. “Just landed. He shouldn’t have been traveling but he wasn’t about to stay away now that we know it was murder. He’s ready to see you at any time.”
So it was that Aodhan’s mind was on the questions he might ask Navarro when he left Dmitri’s office, his thoughts heavy with the reminder of the crime that had stolen the lives of two innocent people.
His phone vibrated with an incoming message only a few steps down the corridor.
When he checked, it was to see a message from Illium: Love you, Sparkle. Even if you did make me eat bran muffins for breakfast. (I’m staging a mutiny next time. I was blinded by love hormones today).
Aodhan’s smile felt as if it would crack his face.
“Well, wow.” Honor, who’d exited the elevator while he was standing there, gasped and clutched at her chest. “I can see why people have written literal odes to your smile.” Her grin was affectionate. “ ‘Sunlight diamonds that cause heart’s flutter’ indeed.”
Sliding away the phone, he said, “That’s it. This time, I’m seriously going to strangle him.” Because he could think of only one person who would still remember that ridiculous poem.
Laughing, Honor held up her hands, her uptilted green eyes as warm as the honey brown of her skin. “No, no, it wasn’t our poor Bluebell. He actually groaned when I showed it to him. The Seven Fan Club dug it up out of some archive.”
Aodhan made a pained sound, head in his hands. Illium had told him that a mortal had set up an “Unofficial but Loyal Fan Club for the Seven!” It apparently featured an online chat board where members posted photos, and shared tracts called “fan fiction” featuring members of the Seven.
“Don’t read it, Adi,” Illium had said solemnly, because of course he’d had to make a fake profile and go poke around. “They have us doing things with Dmitri that I’m not sure are anatomically possible. Also, there’s an entire subforum that believes Venom can shape-shift into a snake and, well…let’s just leave it there.”