Page 102 of Archangel’s Lineage

Vivek hadn’t slept for twenty-four hours straight, kept up by the pain in his leg and by the catastrophic natural events smashing through the planet.

It was as if the entire world had gone mad—and he knew something big was going on. Not only because of the information to which he’d been given access, but because every single archangel in the world was, at present, in Caliane’s territory.

No one had told him that. He’d put it together after picking up multiple disparate pieces of information—and liaising with Jason. Part of both their jobs was to watch the other archangels, and when Vivek saw a photograph that a young vampire had excitedly posted of Aegaeon over Northern India, then Jason caught news of Suyin leaving China, followed by word from their spies that Alexander, Titus, and Zanaya had all left their territories, they’d realized the Cadre was on the move.

Dmitri had soon clued them both in: “Raphael’s gone to an emergency meeting of the Cadre. Elena’s with him.” That’s all he’d said within Vivek’s hearing, but Vivek didn’t need chapter and verse.

He was good at what he did because he could think for himself.

“Vivek.” Dmitri’s voice in his ear.

“I’m here.” He kept on working, directing information where it would do the most good.

“Status of the Mantle?”

Vivek flicked over to that image and hissed out a breath. “Hours from failure. At the current rate, I’d estimate less than three.”

Mind whirling after Dmitri hung up, he shot off a quick message to one of their people stationed with the angelic children, that communication part of his assigned tasks: Is your location secure?

Negative, came the devastating answer. Severe quakes have damaged the foundations. We’re evacuating the children to the secondary safe house.

“Shit.” He immediately disseminated the plan to the entire senior team.

The secondary location was aboveground, in a remote area of the Amazon jungle, and he knew the angels must have a way to get the children there without being spotted, but they’d still be traveling through violent weather.

He sent another message even as he brought up the weather systems en route: Do you have assistance in avoiding weather?

Yes. Hannah, consort to Archangel Elijah, and Mimata out of Southern Africa.

Of course Vivek recognized both names. Listen to them. Both have experience with the weather along your flight path. Mimata, for one, was a high-level courier; not one of the young kids, as most couriers were, but a senior angel who was called on to safely transport treasures—such as angelic children. I’ll also continuously forward you satellite updates so you can avoid storm cells.

Thanks, Vivek.

Leaving the angel to get on with the transfer, he continued to put out as many fires as he could while shooting answers at questions asked by his people. He didn’t realize he was gritting his teeth against the pain in his leg until a spasm locked it up in a knot so painful that it brought him to a screeching halt.

“Damn it,” he said under his breath, reaching down to massage his calf.

His personal line rang at the same instant, Katrina’s name on the screen.

He answered because he couldn’t not answer when it was her. “Hi.”

“What’s wrong?” came the sharp response.

“Oh, nothing.” He grimaced as sweat broke out along his spine. “Just one of those times I’m not sure being able to feel sensation is a good thing.”

“You’re in pain.”

“Muscle spasm in my leg.” Using his fingerprint to key open a drawer, he grabbed a blister packet of pills from the stash of medications in there. “A sec.” He popped out five, chewed them down—his vampiric metabolism meant most mortal medications had no impact until he took a serious overdose.

Forcing himself upright because he’d learned through painful experience that being seated just made the whole thing go on longer, he continued to talk to Katrina using his earpiece. “Is your place still standing?”

“It has solid bones,” was the clipped answer. “How bad is the pain?”

He thought about lying, knew she was too smart to accept bullshit. “Feels like someone’s twisting my balls.”

“Crude, but descriptive,” was the cool response. “Can you come down to me when you stop for a rest?”

“No,” he said, wishing it was otherwise. “I can’t leave the Tower.” Not given the current situation.

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