Page 108 of Archangel’s Lineage

“I can’t believe this is actually happening.” She ran a shaky hand down her simple gown. Of a pale and delicate green, it was held up by pretty diamond clasps at her shoulders, the waist encircled by a fine diamond chain.

It wasn’t her style... but it would’ve been her mother’s. And today was about her mother and her sisters. Which was also why she wore butterflies of sparkling silver in her hair and would carry a basket of daisies to throw into the ocean.

The butterflies for Belle, the daisies for Ari.

Raphael stroked his hand over the surface of her wings even as he spread his own to close them around her. “You are ready, hbeebti.”

Elena nodded, taking deep breath after deep breath. “The ceremony at the funeral home after the exhumations didn’t feel like the real thing, you know?” It had been solemn and quiet, and nothing like any of them. “Today, I say goodbye to them the way it should’ve always been—as a celebration of their lives.”

Raphael tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “You will do them proud.” His belief in her was a sea storm inside her mind, crashing waves that went on forever.

It carried her on the flight to the remote ocean promontory where they were all to meet. Jeffrey had arrived first, stood on the cliff edge leaning on a cane. His health had improved vastly, but he still tired easier than he had before the heart attack, and the cane helped ameliorate that.

She’d half expected him to turn up in somber black despite what they’d talked about, but her father wore beige linen pants and a loose white linen shirt.

Around his wrist was a bracelet created of multihued threads.

Elena’s throat threatened to close. She hadn’t known he’d kept any of Belle’s bracelets. Neither had she known that he’d kept the shirt that Marguerite had hand-stitched. Ari was there, too—in the small leather-bound book he had tucked into the pocket of his shirt. The last gift Ari had ever given him.

When he reached out a hand, she didn’t hesitate to take it.

Gwendolyn, who’d gone to her and Jeffrey’s car to fetch more flowers, came over to kiss Elena on the cheek and greet Raphael. She still wasn’t comfortable with the enormous pressure of his power, her eyes never quite meeting his, but she was genuine in her warmth.

As for Jeffrey and Raphael, they gave each other polite nods. Raphael loved her too much to forgive Jeffrey for the hurts he’d caused her, but her archangel had also accepted that Elena needed to heal the fractures between her and her father.

“If you wish me to welcome him to the Tower one day,” he’d told her, “I’ll do it without hesitation. As you welcome my mother, no matter if you worry that she will hurt me once more. He is your father. And unlike my mother, he is mortal.”

Her archangel understood what that meant, had witnessed her anguish at the racing clock firsthand.

“There comes Beth with your grandparents.” Jeffrey nodded down the track.

A dusty people mover stopped beside Jeffrey and Gwendolyn’s equally dusty BMW sedan. Getting out, Harry jogged around to open Beth’s door—who emerged with the urn held carefully in her arms. That urn carried the remains of Marguerite and her two daughters. They’d made the decision that this was about family. None of the three would wish to be separated.

Majda, as petite as the daughter she’d birthed but never got to watch grow into adulthood, her skin a darker gold than Elena’s, emerged from the back seat after Jean-Baptiste. Marguerite’s father had eyes of silver-blue, and those eyes were trained on Majda as he took her hand with quiet words no one else could hear.

Their faces were worn, their grief a thing they’d carry forever.

But instead of walking over, Majda held out a hand and two younger figures emerged to join the group.

Maggie and Laurent.

“Hi, Auntie Ellie,” Maggie said after running over for a hug.

Elena’s nephew was right behind her.

“Hi, sweetie.” Elena kissed the top of her head, then did the same for Laurent—who was already almost the same height as his older sister. “What are you two doing here?”

“We wanted to be here,” Maggie said. “For Mama and for my grandma and aunts we never knew.”

“Mama told us about them,” Laurent said. “She says I remind her of Belle. She was a rebel like me.” He grinned.

His innocent joy paired with Maggie’s sweet empathy, it made this day a touch easier. “I’m glad you came.”

A motorcycle sounded in the distance, followed by another vehicle.

She wasn’t surprised when Eve swung off that motorcycle after parking it, or when Amy emerged from the vehicle. They were family. Even if they hadn’t known Marguerite, Belle, or Ari, they knew Elena and Beth and Jeffrey.

It was for them that they’d come.

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