Darkness Devours
Page 22

“True. But remember, Ilianna warned you that more trouble could be headed your way tomorrow night, and the timing coincides with this gala. It’s possible the face-shifter we know as Nadler is ready to react at the slightest hint of a problem.”
A taxi pulled into the rank up ahead, and I started walking again. “I’m not sure you could pull something like that off convincingly.”
He fell in step beside me again, his hands clasped lightly behind his back and the warmth of his presence doing more damage to my breathing than Jak’s excitement had. “Why not?”
“Because—” Because he’s warm and real, and you’re not. Not in a flesh-and-blood sense, anyway—even if he felt altogether too real right now. “You can’t inhabit the personality of a person you hardly know.”
“I am as real as you, Risa,” he said softly. “And you’d be surprised at just what I can do.”
No doubt. I took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “If you think you can be convincing, then it’s worth the chance. As much as I hate what Jak did to me and my mom, I don’t want to see him hurt.”
“This will at least keep him safe from whatever trouble Ilianna has seen coming tomorrow night.” He hesitated, then added, “But it has a second benefit.”
I glanced at him. “That being?”
“He doesn’t get to dance with you.” And with that he winked out of existence again.
Goddamn you, Azriel. You can’t keep running like that.
Why not? his thought came back. You do.
Which was not something I could argue with. I grabbed the cab, gave the cabbie the hotel’s address, then dragged out my phone again and called Hunter.
“This is not what I would term a timely phone call,” she commented, and though her voice was mild, I was suddenly glad the vid-screen was broken. “Yeah, sorry, but I had an accident and fell off my bike.”
“I am aware of that fact,” she said crisply. “Just as I am aware that you’re planning to be at the FMFFC ball tomorrow night. I do hope you were intending to include that in your report.”
I closed my eyes and swore internally. I’d forgotten all about our damn watcher. “If I’d gotten the chance to make a report, I would have.”
“And I, of course, believe that implicitly.” Her voice was dry. “I have the information you requested, but with the privacy requirements of this investigation, I will not be sending it to you, electronically or otherwise.”
Meaning I’d have to meet the bitch. Great. I rubbed my aching head wearily. “Where and when?”
“Dark Earth. Half an hour.”
She hung up before I could answer. I swore again, this time out loud, then leaned forward and gave the driver the new address.
Unfortunately, it didn’t take long to get there. Azriel appeared the minute the cab stopped, catching my hand and holding me steady as I climbed out, then just as quickly releasing me. Even so, the memory of his fingers against my skin seemed to linger, teasing imagination and desire.
Damn it, this avoidance—on both our parts—just couldn’t go on. I might not want to confront whatever it was that was actually happening between us, but it was getting clearer and clearer that I would have to. For the sake of my sanity, if nothing else.
But not yet, that voice inside whispered. Not yet.
It seemed my inner voice was very much a coward.
Barkley Street was a hive of activity. Half of Brunswick had apparently decided to shop here tonight, which surely meant that getting into the club via its secret entrance without anyone seeing us would be that much harder. I couldn’t wrap the shadows around me like a vampire, after all, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to take Aedh form. Not when the Raziq were actively hunting me.
But as we neared the nook, the buzz of magic began to crawl across my skin and the shadows within seemed dense and forbidding. It was a place that repelled inspection rather than inviting it. I couldn’t even see the door, although it was little more than an arm’s length away.
Hunter suddenly appeared out the darkness. She looked me up and down, then said, “Nice to see you’re prompt about some things.”
Her voice gave as little away as her expression, but that still didn’t stop the tremor that ran down my spine. I was entering a club that catered to vampires with a blood whore addiction, and I was doing so with one of the most powerful vampires in Australia. I was insane.
Thank god I wasn’t alone.
Her gaze went to Azriel. “You’re allowing me to see your true form. Why?”
“Those I hunt always see my true form,” he replied evenly.
A comment that briefly made me wonder if he was, in some way, hunting me, despite his assurances to the contrary. It would certainly explain why I saw his real form when generally I only saw whatever form the reapers took on.
Hunter raised dark eyebrows, amusement glowing in her green eyes but not actually altering her otherwise remote expression. “Are you suggesting my mortal soul is in danger?”
“What you do not possess cannot be in danger.”
She laughed. It was a rich, warm sound that nevertheless sent another round of chills down my spine. “I like you, reaper. Very much.”
With that, she turned and walked back into the nook, becoming one with the shadows. I hesitated, glancing up and down the street to see if anyone was paying any attention. No one was—unfortunately. As Azriel’s fingers touched my spine and urged me forward, I took a deep breath and followed the bitch inside.
The dual fire of the swords peeled back the darkness and provided glimpses of Hunter ahead. Amaya was hissing again, the sound a constant static in the background of my mind. She didn’t like this place any more than I did.
The heavy door at the end of the corridor swung open as we approached—Hunter and Azriel silently, me with more of a clatter—and Brett Marshall himself appeared to greet us. Or rather, to greet Hunter.
“Mistress,” he said softly, kneeling before her, head bowed. “All is ready.”
I blinked. Mistress? Was Marshall one of Hunter’s fledglings? It would certainly explain their similar mannerisms. And why he’d been trusted to run an establishment like this.
Then the rest of his words registered. All is ready? What the hell did that mean?
I didn’t know, and I suddenly had a bad feeling that I didn’t want to find out.
Hunter touched Marshall’s head lightly as she swept past him, and he shuddered in what almost looked like orgasmic pleasure. Then he was up and following her, not even bothering to look at us. In the scheme of things, I guess we were not that important.
The woman at the desk looked almost identical to the woman who’d been there earlier. Only her shoes were different—red instead of black. I wondered if they were twins, or whether Marshall simply preferred a certain look.
The next set of doors opened and the stink of vampire, booze, and lust hit like a hammer, snatching my breath and sending me stumbling. Azriel caught me again, his grip gentle yet strong, filled with a heat that leapt from his skin to mine. It chased away the fear, chased away the aches, and this time I didn’t immediately pull away from the sensation. I very much suspected I’d need that inflow of strength if I was going to make it through the hours ahead.
We moved deeper into the club, heading not toward Marshall’s office but rather toward the elevators. The blue and purple fire of the swords pierced the shadows, briefly illuminating the gaunt faces and haunted, glowing eyes of the vampires closest to us. Hunger was rife in the room, so thick I could have carved it with a knife. I edged a little closer to Azriel and wondered why Hunter had chosen this place, of all damn places, to meet. She was the one who’d warned it would be dangerous for me to be here at night, and yet here she was, risking the life of someone she supposedly valued.
It is merely another form of warning, Azriel said.
I glanced at him. Of what? Behave, or you’ll be vampire meat?
Yes. His gaze met mine. She does not like your offhand manner in dealing with her.
I snorted softly. She can read my thoughts—she has to know I’m scared shitless by her, and that my manner is nothing more than false bravado.
She can read some thoughts, but not all. He half shrugged. She has been alive a very long time. It becomes very easy for the old ones not only to lose humanity, but to expect certain levels of deference.
Subservience, you mean.
If she expected subservience, you would be dead.
I half smiled—an expression that quickly died as I followed Hunter and Marshall into the elevator. Being stuck in a small metal box with those two and going down into the bowels of what had become little more than an abattoir was not my idea of a good time. But if I edged any closer to Azriel, I’d be crawling into his pockets. What did you mean, some thoughts, not all?
Just that.
So the nano cells are working? I knew they were, but I still needed reassurance—at least when it came to Hunter.
Yes. She is only picking up minor bits and pieces.
My gaze searched his for a moment. How the hell do you know this? I mean, Hunter’s no slouch when it comes to telepathy, and I can’t imagine you’d have easy access into her mind.
I’m a reaper. The human—and non-human—mind is open to us in all its chaotic glory.
So what can you tell me about Marshall’s comment?
We go to meet others.
The elevator doors opened, revealing the basic metal corridor of the feeding rooms. Others? I asked silently, then glanced at Hunter. “Why the hell are we here?”
“I wish to see this room of ghosts,” she said, as she stepped out of the elevator. “And it is as good a place as any to discuss what you need to know.”
The others wait in that room. There are three—all vampires.
I hardly expected them to be anything else, given the place we were in, but the point was, why the hell were they there?
They are there to see you. To talk to you.
Oh god, I thought with sudden clarity. It’s the council. Or part of the council.