Page 70 of Archangel’s Lineage

He looked a dangerous dragon in angel form.

Without warning, he raised a hand toward Raphael.

Elena tensed.

Just as the angel’s blue eyes turned from human to reptilian, a long, slitted black pupil replacing the roundness of his angelic eyes.

***

Raphael had no idea who—or what he was looking at. That this man was a violent power was obvious. He incited the same reaction in Raphael as any other archangel, except for an odd... echo. It was the only way he could describe it. Not only was the Legion mark still throbbing, but something within him seemed to be echoing the other archangel’s pulse.

Now, the unknown being raised a hand.

Raphael’s instinct was to shove it away, make it known that this was his territory. But something in the way the angel looked at him held him back—there was no challenge or aggression in those striking eyes that reminded him of Venom’s. Rather, they held an odd and almost Naasir-like curiosity. Wild. Open.

He permitted the angel to touch his fingers to the Legion mark.

Wildfire crackled from it and down the scales of the other man’s arm.

The new angel—archangel—smiled and, dropping his hand, said something to Raphael in a voice so gritty and deep that it nearly hurt the ear. The language was also incomprehensible.

“We no longer use that tongue,” he said in the language taught to him as Old Angelic. “This is the one we use now.”

The other being cocked his head, listening.

Raphael spoke again, going through a set pattern of words designed to nudge the language awake in Sleepers who had been too long gone from the world.

“Ah,” the being said at last. “The new tongue.” It came out grating and harsh.

The new tongue? Is that what he said?

I believe so, Elena-mine. “We call it Old Angelic.”

A sudden smile, those reptilian eyes flashing back to angelic. “Yes, I see now.” He raised his hand again, and for some reason, Raphael allowed him to touch the Legion mark once more.

It reacted as before, wildfire sparking between them.

“Blood of my blood,” the being grated out, thumping a fisted hand to his heart. “Son of my son.”

Raphael’s heart crashed against his rib cage. “Who are you?”

“Marduk.”

Jessamy was correct, Raphael said to Elena. The Marduk we know of from Babylon was either a descendant or just carried the same name. This is the Marduk from Vivek’s book.

“I am Raphael,” he said aloud. “You stand in my territory.”

Marduk’s eyes flashed back to their other form, and he looked around with a curious gaze before returning his attention to Raphael. “Why did that impertinent child, Cassandra, wake me?”

He was getting easier to understand now. Either his voice was settling, or Raphael was becoming more used to it. “Lady Cassandra is no child.”

Marduk stared at him again. “I cradled her when she was but an infant and I eons old. She will forever be a child to my eyes.”

Holy shit, Archangel.

Yes.

“You are not an Ancient,” Raphael said with certainty. “Are you one of those we call the Ancestors?”

---