Darkness Hunts (Dark Angels #4)

Darkness Hunts (Dark Angels #4) Page 25

I stamped on his foot, hard. He hissed, but otherwise fell silent.

The stranger reappeared. He made a motion with his left hand, and the sickly glow reappeared in the runes. It wasn’t strong enough to light the niche, but it did throw off just enough to make him a little more visible. He was about my height, with thick shoulders, muscular arms, and tree-trunk legs. He reminded me somewhat of a wrestler, but he was extraordinarily light on his feet. He passed close by our niche, but didn’t see or smell us—he was human, not shifter or were, and for that I was suddenly grateful.

But as he passed, I noted the tats on his shoulders—one of a dragon with two swords crossed above it and the other a ring of barbed wire.

I’d seen both a number of times over the last few months. The dragon and swords meant he was a Razan, and while I wasn’t sure what the barbed wire tat represented, I’d seen it on the man who’d arranged the delivery of the Dušan that now resided on my left arm, as well as on one of the men who’d killed Logan’s secretary. How the two were connected I had no idea, because while we suspected that my father was responsible for the Dušan, there was no logical connection between him and the murder of Logan and his secretary. In fact, we were pretty sure the person responsible for those was the man who’d been impersonating Nadler.

Which meant we really needed to question this man.

The stranger strode on, the light in the six runes dying as he approached. As it did, the pillars came to life again.

It was now or never.

I motioned Jak to stay put, then carefully squeezed out of the niche and padded silently forward, flipping Amaya around to hold her by the blade rather than the hilt as I did so. I suspected—given her generally shitty mood—that if I used her blade she might take matters into her own hand and kill our quarry rather than just knock him out.

I raised the sword, but he suddenly dropped and turned, and Amaya whooshed harmlessly over his head. He surged upright, but I spun and kicked him hard in the gut. He flew backward, hit the wall with a loud crack, and slithered to the floor. I flipped Amaya, holding her hilt once more, but the Razan didn’t get up. After another moment or two, I stepped forward and pressed two fingers against his neck. His pulse was steady and strong, so I hadn’t done much more than knock him out.

“Now what do we do with him?” Jak came out of the niche and stopped beside me.

“We find out who he is and who he was talking to.”

I knelt beside the Razan and went through his pockets. I found the phone and tossed that to Jak, then continued the search until I found his wallet.

“According to his license,” I said, “his name is Henry Mack, and he lives in Broadmeadows.”

Jak grunted. “The phone is locked. Any ideas?”

My gaze went to his birth date on his license. It was a long shot, but a lot of people used such things for passwords. “Try one-four-oh-four.”

He did so, then shook his head.

“Reverse it.”

He pressed the appropriate buttons. “Nope.”

I gave him the year; then, when that also proved a bust, glanced at our last hope—the post code—and said, “Three-oh-four-seven, either way.”

“Bingo to the latter.”

I placed his license on the stone near his hand, then pulled out the other cards. There were four credit cards—two in the name of Henry Mack, and two in the name of Jason Marks—a transit card, and various receipts from shops. Mainly for clothes and grocery items, although interestingly, there was a small receipt from a place called Esoteric Supplies, which I knew from Ilianna was one of the main suppliers of wiccan items in Melbourne.

There was little else in the wallet except cash, so I placed the remaining cards on the stone, took a photo of both them and our stranger, and shot both off to Stane with a quick note to see what he could uncover.

“Well,” said Jak, “he’s only got a couple of numbers in his address book, and his last call came from a blocked number. I don’t suppose we can take the risk and call it back?”

“And let whoever is behind this know we have his Razan? Not a good idea.”

Jak flicked through other screens. “They’re going to know something went on, anyway. I mean, you knocked him out.”

“True.” I hesitated, awareness suddenly prickling across my senses.

And suddenly remembered the Razan’s last words. Yes, I’ve released them.

I spun around. The stones’ circle was complete again, and its fading glow did little to light the immediate darkness. The pillars had fallen completely silent. There was no escape that way—not unless we could get the gate open again.

A low growl reverberated around the darkness, raising the hackles along the back of my neck.

“What the hell was that?” Jak’s voice was filled with trepidation as he studied the tunnel behind us.

“That”—I grabbed his hand and dragged him toward the northern end of the stones—“is a hellhound. We need to get out of here—fast!”

We reached the northern entrance and stopped. The runes didn’t react to our presence. They just continued to glow that same sickly color.

“Now what?” Jak’s voice was grim and there was fear in his eyes.

“I don’t know.”

I remembered the gesture the Razan had made when he’d reentered the cavern, and repeated it as best I could. Nothing happened. The runes continued to glow ominously.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

The air began to stir, became a thick scent of malevolence. They were coming.

I grabbed one of the bottles from Ilianna’s satchel and popped the cork. It flew toward the still-glowing runes but never made it across them. There was a sharp report, a flash of fire, and the cork was little more than cinders falling harmlessly to the stone floor.

That would be us if we weren’t very careful.

The smell of death, decay, and ash began to fill the air. I licked dry lips and looked around wildly. There was no decent place to stand and fight. Our best bet was to try to keep them in the tunnel.

And the only way to do that was to use the holy water as some sort of barrier.

But I’d barely taken two steps when evil flowed into the room. The creatures were big, bigger than the ones I’d seen previously, their large heads held low and their red eyes glowing brightly in the shadowed darkness. Thick yellow teeth gleamed eerily as the pair of them snarled. The sound echoed like a death knell.

I flung the water at them.

It flew across the air like a silver ribbon, hitting the first one on the snout and splashing across the coat of the other, sizzling and bubbling where it struck.

The first hound twisted and howled as its face began to disintegrate. Flesh dropped from its cheeks in chunks, until all that was left was bone. Soon that began to crack and shatter, until nothing remained of that half of its face.

But it didn’t die. It was disfigured, but still very much alive.

It would be just my luck to get a stronger breed of hellhound this time around.

And then I remembered that Azriel had killed the hounds with his sword when they’d been distracted by the burning water.

I had no choice but to do this the hard way.

I switched Amaya to one hand and carefully reached for more holy water. Her kill, kill, kill chant was fierce and rapid, matching the pounding of my heart.

“Jak?” My voice was little more than a murmur, as I had no idea just what would set these creatures into motion. Right now, they didn’t seem to be doing anything more than watching us, but I doubted that would last. I suspected that once we moved, they would.

“What?”

Though I could smell the fear on him—as he could no doubt smell it on me—his voice was amazingly steady. But then, I guess he’d seen more than his fair share of dangerous beings in his years as an investigative reporter.

Just not this dangerous.

“Use the holy water to form a wide half circle around yourself, then press back against the wall.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Kill them.”

“Ris, if the holy water works as a barrier, why don’t we both just wait behind it?”

I carefully opened the bottle. The cork hit the dirt near my feet and bounced a little before settling. The hounds’ eyes gleamed a fiercer red in the darkness, and tension rippled across their sleek black hides. They were getting ready to pounce.

“Hellhounds have one design function, and that’s to kill. Holy water might work as a short-term deterrent, but it’s not strong enough to provide long-term protection.”

“It only has to last long enough for us to ring for help. Your uncle—”

“Will not get here in time. No one can. Hellhounds aren’t stupid, and they’re not going to wait around while we ring for help.”

“Oh.”

“Use the knife if a hound decides to ignore the holy water and attempts to get at you.” God, how did that come out so calmly when my stomach was twisted into knots and my hands were shaking? “And good luck.”

“Yeah, you, too.”

We were both going to need it. I took a deep breath and gripped Amaya tightly. Her desire to kill was so fierce it was almost blanketing, and suddenly not only was she in my head, but I was in hers. In the steel, at one with her.

I didn’t question it. I just threw the second bottle of holy water and followed it up fast. The creatures split, one flowing to the left of the runes and the other to the right. The silver ribbon of deadly water flew harmlessly between them, hit the wall, and dribbled down to the floor stones.

Shit, I thought, and swung Amaya. Her steel was little more than a blur as she cut through the air. The hound snarled in response—an action made grotesque by the fact he had only half a face—and slashed with a viciously barbed paw. Claw and steel crashed together, the sound reverberating across a darkness that was no longer so silent. One of the creature’s claws hit the top of my hand, slicing skin even as Amaya’s flames leapt from steel to flesh and burned with fierce joy.