Darkness Hunts (Dark Angels #4)

Darkness Hunts (Dark Angels #4) Page 20

“Not surprising, given that everyone who knows anything is ending up dead.”

He nodded. “I did discuss Logan’s murder with his partners, but other than sussing out who’s handling his estate, I wasn’t able to get anything helpful, either about Logan or Nadler.”

I crossed my arms on the table and leaned forward a little warily. His spicy, woodsmoke scent teased my nostrils, warm and familiar. “Just as well I managed to get something, then, isn’t it?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Like what?”

“Like the names of Nadler’s three heirs.”

“Three heirs? He’s making damn sure we can’t easily track him down again.” He contemplated me for a moment, then added, “How did you manage that feat?”

“I talked to Logan’s ghost.”

He frowned. “I thought it was your mother who could talk to ghosts, not you.”

“On this plane, yes. I talked to him on the astral plane. He died before his time, so he’s stuck there rather than moving on.”

“Huh. The things you learn.” He gave the waitress a cheery smile as she arrived with our drinks. When she’d left, he added, “What are their names? I take it you’re following them up?”

I gave him the three names, then said, “We’ve initiated searches, but haven’t found anything yet.”

“I’ll see if any of my contacts can tell us anything.”

“Good. Also, could you nose around and see if there’s anyone in Melbourne selling transport charms?”

His eyebrows rose. “I may not know much about magic, but even I can tell you those things are rare. And expensive.”

“Yeah. But someone used one recently, and I want to find out where it came from.”

“This related to our quest?”

“Nope.”

“Then am I allowed to know what it’s related to?”

I hesitated. “It’s a Directorate investigation—”

“The vampire drainings.” His voice was grim. “Has to be. Not that we’re allowed to print anything about them, which stinks.”

“I can’t do anything about that.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ll ask around, but don’t expect much.” He took a drink, then licked the froth from his lips, the simple movement raising memories of other things he’d done with his tongue. Desire stirred anew, and the heated spark in his eyes grew. But all he said was, “Now, to my news.”

“And here I was thinking we’d have to dance around it some more.”

He grinned. “I thought about it, but decided to take pity on you. You really do look like crap.”

“Maybe I look that way because people keep saying it,” I grouched, and downed half the glass of beer. Which wasn’t a good thing to do on a practically empty stomach, but I was half were and it wasn’t likely to affect me the same way it would a human. I waved a hand at him. “So, give.”

“I think I may have discovered where the fake Nadler—if he is indeed our dark sorcerer—has his base of operations on West Street.”

West Street being the street where Stane was located, and the area Nadler’s consortium had bought up. But before I could say anything, Azriel popped into existence behind Jak and pressed two fingers against his temple. Jak froze instantly, but no one seemed to find this—or a half-naked, sword-bearing reaper—interesting. Azriel was obviously controlling what everyone saw again.

“What the hell are you doing?” I asked in exasperation.

Azriel raised his eyebrows, though his attention wasn’t really on me, but rather Jak. “Getting the information he holds, of course.”

“And you couldn’t get it the old-fashioned way?” I said. “You know, by actually letting him tell us?”

“Why would I do that when this is quicker?” His differently colored blue eyes clashed with mine, as distant and matter-of-fact as his expression. “I will be back.”

Before I could object, he disappeared again. I growled, but stifled the sound as Jak regained life. I said, “So how did you manage this minor miracle?”

“By keeping my ear to the ground.” He took another sip of beer. “There’s been some rumblings among the homeless in the area about being forcibly moved on—”

“The consortium has armed security patrolling the warehouses to stop the looters and taggers, so that isn’t really strange.” Especially in this situation, where the abandoned buildings surrounded one of the most powerful ley-line intersections in Melbourne. A sorcerer intent on using it wouldn’t want anyone stumbling upon anything by mistake.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice dry. “But these particular guards were dogs. Dogs that were big and black, with glowing red eyes.”

I blinked. “Hellhounds?”

“If you believe in them, yeah.”

“Oh, they’re more than real. Tao and I barely survived an attack from a pair of them.” And if Nadler—or whoever he now was—had hellhounds patrolling the area, then he sure as hell was hiding something big.

Which might mean our suspicions were correct. The sorcerer had used the power of the intersection to get onto the gray field and open the first of hell’s portals.

“And just when did this event occur?”

I returned my attention to Jak. “What?”

“Hellhounds. You and Tao. Details, woman, details.”

I waved a hand. “It’s not important right now.”

His growl of frustration practically echoed the one I’d stifled. “But you will fill me in later, won’t you?”

“Maybe.” I lightly bit my lip. “Did you uncover an exact location, or was it more general?”

“Exact. A warehouse on the corner of West and Reeves.”

Which was the other end of the street from Stane. Maybe that was why the consortium had left him and the bar—the only two businesses in the area to remain in private hands—alone.

Azriel reappeared behind Jak. “I cannot access the site, but whatever is within, it is not the intersection itself. It lies farther down the road.”

Jak jumped and swung around. “Fuck it, reaper, you could at least give some kind of warning before you pop into existence like that.” Then he frowned. “How the hell did you even know about the site?”

“He can read any mind he chooses to,” I explained, and switched my gaze to Azriel. “How come you can’t get in?”

“There are wards similar to the ones your father once used set around the warehouse. I cannot enter when they are in place.”

I frowned. “I wonder if the wards are set to repel all energy beings, or just reapers?”

“I cannot tell. The magic involved is beyond my understanding.”

Ilianna would no doubt be able to tell us what it was, but I wasn’t about to ask anything else of her unless it was absolutely necessary. She’d already placed herself in enough danger for this quest of mine. “We need to get into that warehouse to see what the wards are protecting.”

“I’m glad you said ‘we,’” Jak commented, “because you’re not going anywhere without me.”

I flicked my gaze to him. “Hellhounds are not something you want to tangle with.”

“Probably not, but this is my story, remember, and I’m damned if I’m going to be cut out of it.”

Do you wish me to tamper with his thoughts and send him home? Azriel asked.

I hesitated. No. I don’t want to go into that warehouse alone.

If there are hellhounds, you will be better off calling your uncle. Jak will be of little use—you endanger his life for little reason.

We can’t keep preventing him from taking risks. It’s neither fair nor right when he’s holding up his end of the deal.

Doing what is fair and right did not stop you from diverting him last time.

That was a different situation because the threat was direct and real. Only it was Logan who the killer had been hunting, not Jak, as we’d presumed. Besides, we won’t be heading there unarmed.

Naturally. Amaya is always with you.

I didn’t mean Amaya. While I had no doubt Amaya could handle hellhounds, I wasn’t about to walk into a possible confrontation with them without some form of backup. In this case, that was holy water.

I do not think this a wise course of action.

It isn’t like I have many other choices. I wasn’t going in alone, and if I called Rhoan, he’d cut me out of the investigation completely. Which meant I went either with Jak or with Lucian—and Azriel sure as hell wouldn’t want me going anywhere with him. But your disapproval has been duly noted.

And ignored, he said, mental tones flat. As you wish.

He disappeared again—an action that was really starting to piss me off.

Jak cleared his throat. “Why do I have this feeling that there’s a whole conversation going on that I know nothing about?”

“Because there is.” I waved a hand at his beer. “Finish that. We have to go see a witch about some holy water.”

Ilianna looked up from the magazine she was reading when I walked through the door of our home, but she jumped to her feet when she saw who was behind me, her expression suddenly furious.

Shit, I thought, as she muttered something under her breath and flicked a hand. I swore again and spun around—just in time to see Jak hit the floor face-first, then go slithering back toward the door. Which was shut. He grunted, then began to curse as his body plastered itself to the metal.

“Ilianna!” I spun back round to face her. “Let him go!”

“No,” she spat back, her green eyes practically dripping with fury. “I did warn him never to darken our door again or there’d be consequences.”

“I invited him here. Let him go.”

“Why should I, after all the heartache he caused you? Damn it, Ris, he walked away unharmed and unregretful.”