Giving him a thumbs-up, Naasir jumped with one final grin in Andromeda’s direction. With a descent this finely calculated, he had to get out at precisely the right altitude for the parachute to function safely. Opening the chute the instant he was clear of the plane, he whooped at the sensation of flight, the air, cold at this altitude, rushing past him.
He heard laughter nearby and when he glanced over, there was Andromeda, snapping out pretty wings patterned like a bird’s. Grinning, he rode the late-afternoon winds all the way to his planned landing spot in the desert landscape, mentally marking the splashes of color that denoted the landing spots of the small chutes that had deployed with their supply packs.
He began to gather up the chute the instant he was on the ground, while Andromeda swept left toward the first supply pack. It only took him a matter of minutes to fold the chute back in. Instead of abandoning it on the sand, he took the time to bury it so it wouldn’t arouse suspicion, or act as a beacon to any searchers in the air.
He finished just as Andromeda returned with the second supply pack, having already dropped the first near him. Naasir packed away the small chutes into special compartments, then pulled on the heavier pack and helped her strap on the smaller one. It was designed to be worn in the front. He hadn’t wanted her to jump with it because the unaccustomed weight might’ve thrown her off.
“Comfortable?” he asked after fixing the final strap.
She nodded. “We should get off the sand. I feel so exposed here.”
Agreeing, he told her to fly ahead to the date palms that sprawled in the far distance, part of an oasis inhabited by a small number of villagers. “Stay at the level of the tree line.”
Rising into the air, she called out, “Race you!”
He took off. He preferred bare feet, but he’d worn boots for this mission, since they’d be climbing through cave systems. Those boots were soon covered in dust as he ran across the sand to the trees.
They both stayed on the same path and he ran in the shadow of Andromeda’s wings for much of the race, their pace neck and neck, but he pulled away at the end, his chest heaving as he sucked in air. Tearing off the cap now that he was in the trees, he shoved it into a pocket of his pants.
Andromeda came down beside him in a rush of wind, her own breathing uneven. “I need to sprint more.”
“We can do it together.” Taking a bottle of water from the side of his pack, he gave it to her to drink, then drank himself. “No more flying for now,” he said after putting away the water. “It’ll just take one sighting by the wrong person to give away our location.” According to Andromeda’s research, this oasis was owned by a tribe not known for its hospitality.
Andromeda glanced around at the pomegranate and fig trees visible below the date palms. “This must be the tribe’s source of income.”
“Which means we can’t guarantee there aren’t people around checking their crops.”
They went forward with care. It wasn’t until an hour later that Andromeda said, “What if I’m wrong, Naasir?” Her voice was small. “What if Lijuan’s people reach Alexander first and she murders him?”
“Then she’s proved her evil once again.” He ran his hand down her wing. “Lijuan is not your fault.” And because he understood the thoughts that haunted her, he added, “As your parents’ choice to hurt people for their own pleasure isn’t your fault.”
Face stark, Andromeda faced him. “Find the Grimoire.” It was a command . . . but her voice, it trembled. “I need you to find it.”
“I will.” Then he would claim her and keep her—and order her to tell him all her secrets, especially the one that made her hurt so much each time she looked at him.
29
“Dmitri just heard from the pilot,” Raphael told Elena as the two of them stood atop the roof of the Legion building, Manhattan draped in early morning darkness around them. “Naasir and Andromeda are safely away.”
“I didn’t doubt it.” Elena tightened her ponytail, her hair gleaming white in the lights of the city. “Will we join them once they locate Alexander?”
“We?”
His consort raised an eyebrow, her gaze flinty. “Don’t try that Archangel tone on me.”
“I am an archangel.”
Lips tilting up at the corners, his hunter spread her wings so that the white gold of her primaries brushed his. “You’re also mine and I will hurt you if you dare go up against Lijuan on your own.” She slid out her crossbow. “Don’t mess with me.”
Pulling her close, the crossbow flat against his chest, he took her mouth. He’d fallen for her because she was a warrior, and over the time since they’d come together, he’d learned to accept that she would never stand on the sidelines. But this time—I need you to remain in the city, help hold it while I’m gone.
Elena broke off the kiss, scowled. “Dmitri is plenty tough enough to do that.”
“But you, hbeebti, are no longer just a hunter,” he said, speaking the word “beloved” in the language his consort’s grandmother had brought with her from a distant land. “You are a symbol—even if I am missed, so long as people can see you in the air, they’ll feel safe.” Because everyone knows I would not leave my consort in a city I didn’t feel was protected against all harm.
“Shit,” Elena muttered. “I hate it when you make sense.” Strapping her crossbow to her thigh once again, she walked to the edge of the roof and waited for him to come up beside her. “Symbols are necessary right now, aren’t they?”