Darkness Devours (Dark Angels #3)

Darkness Devours (Dark Angels #3) Page 24

Hunter’s eyebrows rose delicately. “Why?”

He regarded her steadily, and I suddenly wished I could read his thoughts. I had the distinct impression they’d be very interesting right now.

He ignored her question and asked instead, “Were blood whores killed in this room the nights the addicted vampires were murdered?”

Marshall glanced at Hunter and, at her nod, said, “Yes. In each case there were fatalities.”

So much for the whores being well looked after, I thought, as anger surged. My gaze flicked to the silent three, and I felt an answering rise of emotion in them—anger or hunger, I wasn’t entirely sure which. But in this situation, one was as deadly as the other. I returned my attention to Hunter and fought for calm.

Azriel stepped closer, his shoulder pressing against mine. I didn’t know if it was for my benefit or theirs, and I didn’t really care.

“Then that is the link,” he said. “The hour between midnight and one is a very powerful time. When bloodshed is combined with anger and the desperation for revenge, it becomes a call few dark ones could resist. I’m surprised only the Rakshasa has answered.”

I looked at him. “So if the bloodshed stopped, the Rakshasa would be less likely to appear?”

“That,” Hunter said immediately, “is never going to happen.”

“Not even to save lives?”

“The object here is not to save the lives of people I care less than zero about, but to find this thing and stop it. As your reaper will no doubt confirm, the Rakshasa will just move on to less tasty hunting fields if we are not successful here. Such is the nature of a killer.”

And the five of them would know all about that. “So what do you expect me to do?”

She smiled, and it was the smile of a predator whose prey had just stepped neatly into a trap.

But she didn’t answer. The tallest of the three councillors, a thin man with dark auburn hair and muddy, empty eyes, stepped forward.

“What we expect”—his voice was like silk, smooth and sensuous—“is for you to be here every night from midnight to dawn to wait for this thing to appear.”

Horror spread through me. Spend half the night here? Every night? With a room filled with blood-addicted vampires above me and a bloodbath around me?

“Are you insane?” The words were out before I’d really thought about them, and that coiled sense of darkness sharpened abruptly. For several seconds I couldn’t even breathe.

“The sanity of the council may be a debatable point, but it is not the question we seek to answer here,” he said softly. “You and your pet reaper will wait here for this thing, and then you will stop it by whatever means necessary.”

I felt Azriel’s move before he even made it, and pressed a hand against the flat of his stomach, stopping him. But his anger surged past me, churning the ghosts into a frenzied dance of horror.

The councillors seemed unmoved.

“Why?” I asked bluntly. “I thought the keys were the priority, not this thing. If I die here, those keys will remain out of your reach forever.”

“And if you do not stop this thing within the next seventy-two hours, the end result will be the same.”

I frowned, confused. “What result?”

“The keys. If you do not find this killer, then the keys will slip away from our grasp regardless.”

Fear slithered through the confusion. “And, why, exactly, would you think that?”

He smiled, but there was nothing pleasant about it. “Because the council recently took a vote on your situation. The decision was deadlocked, three for killing, three against, three undecided.”

My gaze swept them. These three. I swallowed heavily.

“And?”

“And,” he said flatly, “you have precisely seventy-two hours to prove your worth as a hunter to us, or an execution order will be issued.”

Chapter 7

“Touch her, and you die,” Azriel said, his voice as flat as the councillor’s, but somehow far more deadly.

The councillor merely smiled. “I know enough about reapers to understand that would not be a wise choice on your part.”

“I am not strictly a reaper, and I am not bound by all their rules.”

The councillor raised an eyebrow and looked somewhat disbelieving, but Hunter touched his hand, then said, “Killing Odale will only sway opinion further against you. After all, you are apparently the one person who can find these keys—and there is some belief among the council that it would be better to leave the keys lost than to have anyone else gain them.”

An opinion I actually agreed with, except for the fact that in their version, it meant me dying. That bit I wasn’t so keen on.

“I thought you were on my side.”

“Oh, I am.” She shrugged lightly. “I believe it would be to our benefit to keep you alive and find those keys, but votes ebb and flow, as does power. Right now—thanks to the fear and uncertainty these keys have raised—the tide of opinion has swung many against my belief of your usefulness. You need to prove otherwise.”

Or die. Fantastic options, I had to say. “Three days is hardly long enough. I mean, what if this thing doesn’t front?”

“It will. It may have taken five victims within a week, but its hunger will still be great. Track it to its lair, Risa, and kill it. Prove to these three—and to the council at large—that I’m right. Prove that you can be the asset I have said you will be.”

Great. Now she was using me to cement her power. I thrust a hand through my hair. “I can’t stay in this room. Not while vamps are feeding.”

“You won’t. Marshall?”

He turned and moved to the far side of the room. A keypad sat there, looking oddly out of place in the sterile whiteness of the room. He pressed in a code, and beside him a door slid open. Beyond it was a small box-shaped room.

“It is fully shielded,” Marshall said. “No vampire will sense your presence in there, no matter how strong their telepathic skills might be.”

Meaning I was safe from Hunter’s intrusions? Somehow I doubted that. “And why would you have a room like that installed in a place like this?”

She smiled. It wasn’t pleasant. “Because there are some who like to watch.”

Horror crawled through me. She liked to watch. God. I licked my lips and tried to ignore the thickening sensation of fear. “How do I get out of this place once dawn rises?”

“There is a door-release button within. Use that if the Rakshasa appears. Otherwise, Marshall will retrieve you.” She took a step forward, the movement fluid and elegant. “Watch carefully, dear Risa, and pass the tests. I really would prefer for you to remain alive for a while yet.”

Her warning suggested there would be more than just one test. I glanced at the man she’d identified as Odale, and saw the anticipation flicker through the dead space of his eyes. Whatever else they had in mind, it would be bloody. I swallowed heavily, shoved intuition back into its box, and said, “Yeah, so would I.”

She nodded, and swept rather regally from the room, the three councillors following silently in her wake. The dark energy of their presence seemed to linger long after they’d gone.

“Risa,” Marshall said, the sudden sound of his voice making me jump. “You need to step inside. Our first customer will arrive in a few minutes.”

Oh god. I closed my eyes for a moment, then, with Amaya spitting fire all over the place, I forced my feet forward and entered the box-room. It was even smaller than it looked, barely big enough to hold two chairs. Interestingly, there was a camera discreetly placed in one corner, and the back wall was not only padded, but had hand grips. I didn’t want to know why. I really didn’t—but that didn’t stop my imagination throwing up all sorts of sick possibilities.

The door whooshed shut and the darkness closed in. As did fear.

“Are you all right?” Azriel asked.

“No, I’m fucking not,” I snapped. Amaya’s hissing increased, buzzing through my brain like a saw, sharp and hungry. Her fire spilled across the darkness, giving it a creepy glow. I took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. It didn’t do a whole lot to ease either her noise or the tension and dread roiling around inside me. “Sorry. This isn’t your fault.”

“No,” he agreed. “But that does not mean I cannot help you.”

I eyed him for a minute, then said, “How?”

“You do not need to be here to watch. I can do that.”

“Nice thought, but there’s one problem.” I pointed at the camera. “We’re not the only ones watching. And we have no idea whether it’s Marshall, Hunter, or those fucking councillors behind that camera.” Hell, for all I knew, they could be recording everything we said, as well.

“I could find out.”

“And what good would knowing do? It doesn’t alter the fact that I have to stay here for the entire evening.”

He fell silent, but the room beyond suddenly wasn’t. The ghosts began to moan, the sound one of agitation and horror. It crawled across my skin like a rash, making me itch. Making me shiver.

Then came the sound of footsteps. Two pairs entering, one leaving. A blood whore being delivered. My stomach began to churn. I couldn’t listen to this. I really couldn’t.

“Then don’t,” Azriel said, and touched two fingers to my forehead lightly. “Sleep, Risa. I will guard this night.”

“I can’t—” But the protest died on my lips. Sleep closed in and I knew no more.

I woke hours later, feeling stiff and less than refreshed. The scent of blood was heavy in the air, mingling with the stench of antiseptic. In the other room, someone whistled tunelessly, the sound grating across waking nerves.

I stretched, trying to work the kinks out of my body, and realized I was lying across the two chairs, my back against the padded wall and my coat under my head. I opened my eyes. Azriel leaned against the far wall, underneath the camera. His arms were crossed and his eyes were hooded. But a strange red-purple fire flickered along Valdis’s sharp sides.