Darkness Hunts (Dark Angels #4)

Darkness Hunts (Dark Angels #4) Page 26

I jumped back and swung Amaya again. Blood sprayed across the ruined remains of the hound’s face, and the gleam in its eyes grew stronger. It ducked the blow, then leapt. I had no time to move and took the full brunt of its weight, staggering backward but somehow avoiding the snapping, slashing teeth. One of its claws hooked into my right shoulder, and a scream tore up my throat. I flung Amaya over its head, then caught her with my free hand and brought her down on the creature’s spine. The force of the blow reverberated up my arm, but it did little more than cut the hound’s flesh. She didn’t sever muscle or bone, as I’d hoped she would.

Will, she screamed. Time need!

And that was the one thing we didn’t have a whole lot of.

I clawed at the creature’s remaining eye. It snarled and shook its head, its breath fetid, washing my skin with the smell of death. The movement dislodged its claw from my shoulder and I fell backward with a grunt of pain. Energy washed across my spine and I realized with horror that I was near the runes. Then air stirred, and the scent of malevolence grew stronger. The hound was in the air, coming straight at me.

I became one with Amaya again—felt the fierceness of her spirit rush through me. We leapt to one side. One foot skimmed the edge of a rune and sent a warning ripple of sickly green light across the darkness. We raised the sword, brought her down hard. Hit the creature’s spine even as it hit the runes. The runes didn’t react, didn’t flare, didn’t cinder.

It didn’t matter.

This time, the combined strength of both Amaya and me drove the sword, and it burned and flamed swiftly through the hellhound’s flesh, cutting through skin and bone with the ease of butter.

The hound screamed as it flopped to the floor, but it still had movement. It dug its claws into the stone and dragged itself around, snapping at my legs with its remaining teeth. I leapt back—separated from Amaya’s spirit once again—then swung the satchel around, dragged out another bottle of holy water, and poured it over the creature from head to foot. The rancid smell of burning flesh filled the air as the creature twisted and howled in fury and pain. I raised Amaya again and brought her down—point first—with as much force as I could muster. This time she didn’t sever, she consumed. Purple flames erupted, swept swiftly across the hound’s hissing, disintegrating flesh, until there was no skin, no bone, no sound, just purple fire and the wretched smell of death. Then, with a sharp report, the flames and the hound were gone, and Amaya suddenly felt heavier in my hand.

Which didn’t mean she was in any way satisfied.

I swung around. Jak had created a protective ring using the water, but it wasn’t as secure as we’d hoped. It stopped the bulk of the creature, but it hadn’t stopped the creature’s slashing attacks with wicked-looking claws.

I spun and ran around the runes, coming up on the hellhound from behind. It sensed me—it was always going to, as I was making little effort to sneak and Amaya was screaming her heart out—and twisted and leapt in one smooth motion. I threw myself forward, turning as I fell, coming up under the creature as it flew above me. Amaya’s screaming was at fever pitch—wanting, needing bloodshed—so I gave it to her. I drove her blade into the creature’s belly and ripped her along its length. Blood and gore splattered across my face, stinking to high heaven and stinging like acid. These creatures may not be truly flesh, but god, when their innards spewed it damn well felt real.

“Jak, you okay?” I scrambled to my feet, Jak’s circle at my back and Amaya held out in front of me like a baton.

“No worse off than you—watch out!”

It wasn’t a warning I needed. The creature had barely hit the stone when it was in the air again. I threw the last bottle of holy water, but the hound somehow twisted, and the water hit trailing innards, not flesh. I swung the blade, slicing across the creature’s snout, then twisted out of its reach. It had barely smacked down on the stones when it leapt again. But as it did, Amaya and I once again became one. All her fury, all her energy and her vicious need to kill became mine, and I screamed as she screamed. Together, we severed the creature’s head clean from its neck even as it managed a last, desperate slash with its claws. I sucked in my gut, felt clothing and skin part, but little else, still held by the fury that was Amaya. As the hellhound hit the stone in separate parts, her fire leapt from the blade and covered both. In very little time, there was nothing left but ash.

I lowered Amaya’s point to the stone and leaned against her, suddenly weak with relief. We’d done it. Somehow, we’d beaten them.

All we had to do now was get out of here.

Jak’s hand slid around my waist as he leaned next to me. “You okay?”

I took a deep, somewhat quivery breath, and released it slowly. “Yeah. You?”

“Scratched, bleeding, and fucking glad to be alive.”

I smiled, as he no doubt intended, then straightened and stepped away from his touch. “I don’t think we can get out via these gates. I think we need to go back through the tunnel.”

“Then we’ll have to leave our prisoner. It’ll be next to impossible to drag him through it.”

I grimaced. “But we can’t afford to leave him. The last thing we want is him reporting back to his masters. At least if we get him upstairs, Azriel can alter—”

I stopped as once again awareness swept over me.

Someone else was in the tunnel, and they were coming our way.

Chapter 8

I half raised Amaya, then stopped as fear gave way to realization. It wasn’t a foe who walked toward us; it was a friend.

Uncle Quinn—Riley’s moon-sworn lover, and the half Aedh who’d taught me how to use my own Aedh skills—to be exact. He was also a former Cazador, and one of the few who not only survived the experience but walked away virtually unscarred. And that, to me, only emphasized just how deadly he could be.

It was a damn shame he hadn’t turned up five minutes earlier. He would have handled the hellhounds with one hand tied behind his back and very little bloodshed.

“Risa?” The muffled confines of the tunnel made it hard to judge how close he actually was, but the Irish lilt usually evident in his voice had all but disappeared—a sure sign he was ready for battle. “You okay?”

“Yes.” I sheathed Amaya.

“Then why do I smell blood?”

“I guess because I’m bleeding.”

“You guess? You, my dear, have been around Riley entirely too long.”

So people kept saying. “Which isn’t a bad thing when it taught me to survive situations like this.”

He squeezed out of the tunnel a damn sight more elegantly than either Jak or I had, and strode toward me. While no half-breed got the wings of the Aedh, many did inherit their mesmerizing looks, and Quinn was no exception. He was, in every way, angelic, from his beautiful face that was framed by night-dark hair to his well-toned body.

His dark gaze swept me, then moved on to Jak. What he thought of his presence I couldn’t say—Quinn was a very old vampire, and well practiced in keeping emotions contained.

Rather like Azriel, I thought absently.

“That may be the case, but she’s not going to be pleased that you not only failed to call in help but got wounded in the process.”

“It looks worse than it is,” I said, then remembered I was talking to a vampire. He’d know exactly how much blood I was losing. “And it’s not like you have to tell her.”

“As if anyone can hide secrets from that woman.” Undercurrents of amusement and love ran through the comment. He ripped the sleeve from his shirt, tore it into strips, then roughly bandaged my shoulder. “She already suspects the worst, given the rather frantic state your reaper was in when he appeared to fetch me here—”

“Azriel?” I interrupted, surprised. “Frantic?”

His gaze jumped to mine. “You didn’t send him?”

“No.” I hadn’t even heard from him, simply because the magic was still in place. They couldn’t stop our chi connection, however, so he would have understood the danger we were in. But frantic? He knew I had Amaya, and besides, while I’d seen him angry, I couldn’t imagine my often uptight reaper showing anything more than mild concern.

“Does that mean Riley’s here as well?”

“No, because I took Aedh form to get here fast.”

It also enabled him to get around the usual sunlight restriction, although as one of the old ones, he could actually stand huge amounts of daylight.

“So where is she?”

“Waiting at home, medi-kit in hand.” His gaze moved to Jak, and his voice lost some of its warmth as he added, “Are you all right?”

“There’s nothing a Band-Aid and a stiff drink won’t fix.” Amusement ran through Jak’s voice. He’d obviously noted the temperature change, too.

Quinn’s dark gaze swept the room, and narrowed slightly as it settled briefly on the pillars. He knows what they are, I thought. But he said nothing, and looked down at our captive instead. “Who’s this?”

“According to his ID, he’s either Henry Mack or Jason Marks, and he’s a Razan.”

His gaze leapt to mine again. “A Razan? Whose?”

“That, indeed, is the question.” I shrugged. “We suspect he was talking to his master before we knocked him out, but the number was blocked and we dare not call it back.”

A wry smile touched Quinn’s lips. “In other words, you want me to read his thoughts.”

“Well, yeah, that would be nice.”

Quinn considered me for a moment, then said, “As long as you agree to come back home with me, so Riley can reassure herself that you’re alive and well.”

“And then tell me off.”

“Undoubtedly. But seeing as you refuse to seek help from those of us who have more experience with things such as hellhounds, it’s well deserved.”

A point I didn’t argue with, although I could have. Easily. He and Riley had been through enough shit in their time together—they didn’t deserve to get hit with mine now that their life was relatively sane and quiet. Besides, I’d already lost my mom. I wasn’t about to lose anyone else I was close to. It was bad enough that I’d involved Ilianna and Tao as much as I had.