"Either the leader or one of his angelic followers." Illium's familiar voice, his wings the most vivid point of color in all the white as the angels who'd come with Galen left, taking the body with them.
Galen's own wings reminded her of a northern harrier's - a dark gray with white striations that only became visible when he spread them in preparation for flight. "The head isn't here," the red-haired angel began when there was a gust of wind, the powerful backlash of wings raking up the snow.
Elena felt her heart catch all over again as Raphael landed. "We found the head," he said, his tone freezing the air around them. "It was left on Anoushka's pillow, thesekhem branded on its forehead."
Elena was quite certain the vampire must have been alive for that humiliation. His fear when he realized the jackal he worshipped had turned on him would have been agonizing - because he knew exactly what was coming.
"A jeer," Galen said. "Aimed at Neha through her daughter."
"Or a very clever double play," Elena murmured, recalling the notes she'd read on Anoushka. Intelligent, ambitious, and with several powerful vampires and angels in her court, she could have pulled it all off. But then, so could Nazarach and Dahariel.
"If she is a true victim," Illium said, "how did anyone get that close? Anoushka's guards are deadly."
"No security is absolute. And it's beginning to appear as if this angel laid his plans months in advance."
"Jason?" Elena guessed.
A hard nod, Raphael's hair blue black under the winter sun. "One of his men managed to get out a message from Charisemnon's court - there's no evidence of the girl-child ever crossing the border. Yet Titus is adamant he has proof in the form of a recording that was sent to him."
It was Galen who spoke next. "Are we certain the one behind this is still in the Refuge?"
"The political games may well have been run from a distance, but these are too personal.
He's close, eager to see the results of his acts." Raphael's voice held a remoteness that scared her. The last time he'd sounded that distant, he'd ended up holding her above a spiraling fall, a being who might have dropped her just so he could listen to her scream.
Her blood a rush of thunder in her ears, she had to focus to hear his next words.
"Ignore the distractions. He may have begun this with the intent of proving his power, his entitlement to become Cadre, may have convinced himself these acts will lead to that goal - "
" - but really, the bastard just enjoys his sick little games," Elena completed, her gut churning. Because that kind of a sociopath? He wouldn't stop until he was forced to stop.
And he'd already shown he had a taste for children.
Chrome blue eyes met her own. "Our aim hasn't changed. We hunt for the blood insult to Noel, to Sam. And for the renewed threat on Elena's life."
She blinked, feeling the sun's increasing heat against her skin. "What?"
"A Guild dagger was jammed into the mouth of the head left in Anoushka's bed."
Angry at the vicious acts, at the continued mockery of a Guild that had given her a family when her own had thrown her out like so much trash, she felt her mind calm, her brain chill. "Forensics lab?" Even if she hadn't had that conversation with Raphael about possible trace evidence on Noel's battered body, she'd have intuited the Refuge had such a lab. Because while angels might look like beings out of myth and legend, they were, for the most part, ruthlessly practical. She wouldn't be surprised if they had a central DNA bank.
"The body's being processed," Galen said, "and I'll have people go over the scene one more time, but I predict we'll find nothing of value, just as with Noel and Sam."
"The only clue was the dead vamp's scent," Elena said, knowing that that was why he'd died. It was disturbing to know her talent had signed his death warrant, but then, hadn't he done that himself the night he decided to help brutalize a child? Her jaw tightened.
"Do we know who he was?"
"He looked to Charisemnon," Raphael said. "A midlevel vampire seduced by the promise of more."
It was such a human motive that she knew he was right. Because vampires had once been human after all. "Are there still only three possibles?"
"Nazarach, Dahariel, and the Princess herself," Illium confirmed.
"Any of the three like to live in the past?"
"No." Illium again. "Anoushka keeps a court like her mother, but she also owns a chemical plant that manufactures poisons. They're all aware of modern forensic techniques."
"Then we go back to basics, watch them until they make a mistake."
"Nazarach," Raphael said, "has been under constant surveillance since the attack on Noel, but that doesn't prove his innocence. Dahariel is Astaad's, and will require more care."
"Even with what was done to Sam?"
The answer was that of an archangel. "Dahariel is as integral to the smooth running of Astaad's territory as Nazarach is to mine."
And Anoushka was Neha's daughter. "You can't go after them without risking war."
"Dahariel appeared disgusted by the attack on Sam," Raphael said, his expression impenetrable, "but his home is filled with vampires who all but whimper at the sound of an angel's wings."
Elena's mind shot to the last - and only - time she'd seen Holly Chang. The woman had turned hysterical at the sight of Raphael's wings after the trauma of having been forced to witness Uram's atrocities. What was Dahariel doing to elicit the same reaction from almost-immortals who'd lived hundreds of years?
Illium extended his hand as a stiff breeze lifted the snow into the air. But it couldn't erase the lingering spoor of murderous violence. "The medallion that led us here."
Taking it, Raphael traced the lines of the metal sphere as if searching for something. She knew he'd found it when his fingers went still. "This could've only been acquired through the death of one of Lijuan's men."
"Do you think she's involved?" Elena asked.
"No. She's too busy playing with her reborn." He closed his fingers around the medallion even as the hairs on the back of her neck rose at the reminder of Lijuan's preferred form of amusement. "Elena - the trail?"
"Snow's melting," she said, frustrated. "Trail's history."
"Patience, hunter," Raphael said with the confidence of a being who'd seen centuries pass. "He made a mistake in killing one of his own men - fear will loosen tongues."