Raphael closed the door behind him and walked into the huge basement library hidden beneath the graceful beauty of a large cottage in Martha's Vineyard. A fire burned in the hearth, the only source of illumination other than the wall sconces, which created more shadows than light. There was a sense of age about this place, a quiet knowledge that it had been here far longer than the modern home above.

"It is done," he said, taking his seat in the semicircle of armchairs in front of the fire. It was too hot for him, but some of his brethren came from warmer climes and felt the promise of autumn in their bones.

"Tell us," Charisemnon said. "Tell us about the hunter."

Leaning back in his chair, Raphael glanced around at the others who sat with him. The Cadre of Ten was in session. But incomplete. "We'll need to replace Uram."

"Not yet. Not until after . . ." Michaela whispered, eyes tortured. "Is it really necessary to hunt him?"

Neha closed her hand on the other angel's shoulder. "You know we have no choice. He can't be left to indulge his new appetites. If the humans ever discover-" She shook her head, almond-shaped eyes full of dark knowledge. "They would fear us as monsters."

"They already do," Elijah said. "To hold power, we've all had to become a little bit the monster."

Raphael agreed. Elijah was one of the oldest among them. He'd ruled in one way or another for millennia, no sign of ennui in his eyes even now. Perhaps it was because Elijah had something the others didn't-a lover whose loyalty was unimpeachable. Elijah and Hannah had been together for over nine hundred years.

"But," Zhou Lijuan pointed out, "there is a difference between being feared, but looked upon with awe, and being totally abhorred."

Raphael wasn't so sure that line existed but Lijuan was an archangel cut from a different time. She held power in Asia through a matriarchal network that instilled respect for her in their children, and had been doing so for eons. If Elijah was old, then Lijuan was truly ancient-she'd become woven into the very fabric of her homeland, China, and of the lands around it. They told tales of Lijuan in whispered tones and looked upon her as a demigod. In comparison, Raphael had only ruled for five hundred years, a mere blink of time. But that could prove an asset.

Unlike Lijuan, Raphael hadn't ascended so high that he'd ceased to understand mortals. Even before his transformation from angel to archangel, he'd chosen the chaos of life over the elegant peace of his brethren. Now he lived in one of the world's busiest cities and, unbeknownst to its denizens, often watched them. As he'd watched Elena Deveraux today. "We have no need to debate secrecy," he said, cutting into Michaela's soft sobs. "No one can know of what Uram has become. It has been that way for as long as we've existed."

A slow round of nods. Even Michaela wiped away her tears and sat back, her eyes clear, her cheeks flushed. She was beautiful beyond compare. Even among angelkind, she'd always been the brightest of stars, never lacking for lovers or attention. Right then, her gaze met his and deep within them was a sensual question he chose not to answer. So. She didn't mourn Uram; she mourned herself. That fit far better with her personality.

"The hunter is female," she said a second later, her tone slightly edgy. "Is that why you chose her?"

"No." Raphael wondered if he'd have to warn Elena about this new threat. Michaela didn't like competition and she'd been Uram's lover for almost half a century, an incredible commitment for someone of her mercurial nature. "I chose her because she can scent what no one else can."

"Why, then, must we wait?" Titus asked, his soft tone at odds with the gleaming, muscular bulk of his body. He appeared a man carved from jet, as roughly hewn as the mountain stronghold he called home.

"Because," Raphael answered, "Uram has not crossed the final line."

A hush.

"You're certain?" Favashi asked, her words gentle. She was the youngest of them all, the most mortal in her thinking. Her heart and soul remained unscathed by the inexorable passage of time. "If he hasn't yet-"

"You hope too easily," Astaad interrupted in that harsh way of his. "He killed every one of his servants and retainers the night he left Europe."

"Why then did he not cross the line, do . . . what we must never do?" Favashi asked, unwilling to back down. That was why, despite her gentleness, she was the archangel who held sway over Persia. She bent, but Favashi did not break. Ever. "Surely he can be reclaimed?"

"No," Neha responded, as cool as Favashi was warm. In her homeland of India, snakes were worshipped as gods and Neha was worshipped as the Queen of Snakes. "I've made discreet inquiries with our doctors. It is too late. His blood is poison."

"Could they be mistaken?" Michaela asked, and perhaps there was a touch of caring in her tone.

"No." Neha's eyes shifted across the room. "I sent a sample to Elijah, too."

"I had Hannah look at it," Elijah said. "Neha is right. It's too late for Uram."

"He is an archangel-the hunter will not be able to kill him even if she finds him," Lijuan said, her shimmering white hair waving in a breeze that wasn't there. With age came powers so extraordinary that seeming "human" in any sense became close to impossible. Lijuan's eyes, too, were a strange pearl gray that existed nowhere on this earth. "One of us will have to see to that duty."

"You just want him dead because he threatened your power!" Michaela snapped.

Lijuan ignored her, as Raphael might a human. Lijuan had seen archangels come and go. Only she remained. Uram had been her closest contemporary. "Raphael?"

"The hunter is tasked with tracking Uram," he answered, recalling the terror in Elena's eyes when he'd told her of that task. "I'll execute him. Do I have the Cadre's agreement?"

One by one, they all said, "Aye." Even Michaela. She valued her life more than she valued Uram's. For they all knew that Uram was in New York because of Michaela. If he crossed the final line, it was his former lover who'd become his most desired target.

So it was done.

Raphael stayed in the room as the Cadre took their leave one by one. It was rare for the membership to gather in one place. They were powerful beyond measure, but it was better not to tempt the young ones. Some aspired to take their place through death. It was always the young who embraced such delusions. The older ones had gained the wisdom to know that to be an archangel was to surrender part of your soul.

Soon, only Elijah remained in the room, on the other side of the semicircle from Raphael. "Will you not go home to Hannah?"

Elijah's pure white wings shifted slightly as he stretched out his legs and leaned back in his chair. "She's with me wherever I go."

Raphael didn't know whether the other angel meant that literally. Some long-mated angelic pairs were rumored to share an effortless mental link, untrammeled by time or distance, but if they did, none ever talked about it. "Then you are indeed blessed."

"Yes." Elijah leaned forward, balancing his elbows on his knees. "How could this have happened with Uram? Why did no one see?"

Raphael realized the other man truly had no idea. "He wasn't mated and Michaela cares for no one but herself."

"Harsh." But he didn't refute the summation.

"You have Hannah to tell you if you're getting close to the edge. Uram was alone."

"There were servants, assistants, other angels."

"Uram was never merciful," Raphael said. "He rewarded any show of spine with torture. As a result, his castle was filled with those who hated him and those who feared him. It didn't matter to them if he lived or died."

Elijah looked up, his eyes clear, almost human. "There's a lesson for you there, Raphael."

"Now you are acting like my big brother."

Elijah laughed, the only archangel aside from Favashi who ever did such a thing and meant it. "No, I see in you a leader. With Uram gone, the Cadre of Ten has the potential to fragment-you know what happened the last time we splintered."

The Dark Age of man and angel, when vampires bathed in blood and the angels were too busy warring with each other to care. "Why me? I'm younger than you, than Lijuan."

"Lijuan is . . . no longer of this world." Frown lines creased his forehead. "She is, I think, the oldest angel in existence. She's gone beyond petty problems."

"This is no petty problem." But he understood Elijah's meaning. Lijuan no longer looked upon this world. Her sight was focused somewhere far in the distance. "If not Lijuan, why not you? You're the most stable of us all."

Elijah fanned out his wings as he thought. "My rule in South America has never been challenged. It's true I have a steel hand with dissent, but," he said, shaking his head, "I have no desire for killing or blood. To hold the Cadre together, the leader must be more dangerous than any other."

"You call me brutal to my face," Raphael commented softly.

Elijah shrugged. "You inspire fear without Astaad's cruelty, or Michaela's capriciousness. It was why you clashed with Uram-you were too close to taking what was his. The leadership is already yours, whether you know it or not."

"And now Uram is being hunted." Raphael saw, in that vision, his future. To be tracked like an animal. By a woman with dawn-colored hair and eyes as silver as a cat's. "Go home to your Hannah, Elijah. I will do what has to be done." Draw blood, end the life of an immortal. But that, of course, was a misnomer. An archangel could die . . . but only at the hands of another archangel.

"Will you rest this night?" Elijah asked as they both stood.

"No. I must speak to the hunter." To Elena.