Neha’s ability to wield ice wasn’t public knowledge, thus he couldn’t speak of it without breaking the blood vow, but he had further evidence of a Cadre-wide phenomenon. “You remember Astaad’s erratic behavior.” The archangel had beaten one of his beloved concubines to a pulp, when he was known to be indulgent with his women to the point of spoiling them. “What I’m hearing is that he’s stabilized and may have gained nascent abilities over sea creatures.”
Jessamy’s expression was thoughtful. “At the time, his behavior was explained by the disruption caused by Caliane’s awakening.”
“The awakening of an Ancient is nothing to ignore,” Jason said, thinking of the lost city of Amanat risen in a place far from its origin. “But could Caliane’s awakening have been triggered by a more dominant force?” Lijuan’s dark evolution had predated Caliane’s waking by mere months, both events shifting the course of the world’s history.
“There’s no—” Jessamy went silent. “Wait.”
When she returned, it was with an old bound book she held with such care, it was clear it was fragile. “This history mentions an event called the ‘Cascade’ and states: ‘And the archangels were not who they should be, and bodies rotted in the streets, and blood rained from the skies as empires burned.’”
Expression solemn, Jessamy glanced up. “This Cascade was over twenty-five thousand years ago. I’ll begin to search the archives for further information, but though her exact age is disputed, I believe there is one archangel awake who would’ve experienced it firsthand.”
Caliane.
Ending the call soon afterward to make another, he rose on a flight path toward the fort, aiming for the office Rhys kept near the barracks that housed most of the guard. The other man was overseeing a training exercise from his balcony, but he had the forensic reports.
“Nothing we didn’t already know,” he said to Jason. “There was no finesse, no attempt to hide anything. Audrey appears to have had her organs removed, while Shabnam’s head was torn off. Arav, too, was ripped apart—tendons sheared, muscles snapped.”
Jason scanned the reports, saw the note about Shabnam’s head, read that Arav had indeed been ripped apart—by bare hands. Not a single mark that could be attributed to a weapon had been found on his body. That told Jason something important. Very, very few angels had the strength to physically rip out another angel’s spine, much less wrench off his head.
And to do that in flight against a general of Arav’s abilities? It would require near-archangel level strength or an unknown new ability. He needed to have his people begin to covertly check the power status of certain angels, get an indication if they, too, were being impacted by this strange evolution that seemed to be affecting the Cadre.
Flipping back, he rechecked the report on Shabnam. Though the pathologist had been unable to confirm, given the nature of her injuries, it was his considered opinion that her face had been raked with claws of some kind. Jason had witnessed Neha’s fingernails elongate into claws, but it wasn’t an ability limited to her alone. Still, it was another piece of the puzzle.
“Yes,” he said, retaining his copy of the forensic findings. “There’s nothing important here.” Rhys might be Neha’s man, but he wasn’t Jason’s.
26
Raphael considered the discussion he’d just had with Jason, and made the decision to put through a call to Caliane. His mother had initially been resistant to utilizing any kind of modern communications equipment, but after he’d refused to communicate with her using raw power, she had finally acquiesced to a small suite Naasir and Isabel had put in place.
Now, Raphael waited as the angel on duty went to retrieve Caliane.
“Raphael.” Eyes shining with love, she reached out toward the screen as she always did, as if she would touch him. “My son.”
“Mother.” So long had he thought her forever lost that each time he spoke to her, it was a kick to the gut, an ache in his heart. “I would ask you a question.”
“First, you must answer one of mine.” The order of an archangel who had been alive for an eon before her Sleep. “When can I next expect my son’s presence?” She waved her hand. “And I do not mean through this device.”
“I cannot leave the Tower until one of the senior Seven return.”
“The beautiful blue one. He is certainly not weak.”
No, Illium was in no way weak, but his power had been growing in unpredictable jolts; enough that he didn’t quite have a handle on his new strength. “Mother,” he said gently, for he would give her honor until and unless her terrible madness returned, “I am your son, but I am also Cadre. Do not attempt to run my Tower, and I will not attempt to run your city.”
Caliane’s gaze burned a dramatic blue flame, the glow deadly. “And should I decide to visit you, what then?”
“I and my consort would welcome you.”
“So you intend to continue the liaison? I could break her in a finger snap.”
“Then I would have to kill you—as I will do if I ever consider you a threat to Elena.” His mother was an Ancient, used to getting her way and to seeing him as a child. She needed to remember that the boy she’d left bleeding and broken and heartsick on a green field far from civilization was long gone. “I am not who I once was.”
The glow dimmed, melancholy in every line of her face, and he knew she relived the same memories. “Ask your question, Raphael.”