Darkness Hunts (Dark Angels #4)

Darkness Hunts (Dark Angels #4) Page 28

I cleared my throat, hoped I didn’t look as embarrassed as I felt, and said, “I’ll see you soon.”

He nodded, then melted into mist and disappeared. I shot Stane another quick note, asking him to add Mark Jackson to his search, and then Azriel’s arms were around me and we were whisking through the gray fields.

We reappeared in the middle of Aunt Riley’s living room. She was, as Quinn had said, waiting for us.

“About fucking time.” Her gaze swept over me and her expression became grim. “What the hell have you been tangling with?”

“Hellhounds.” I stepped free from Azriel. “There were two of them, and two of us.”

“Unfair odds in anyone’s book. Those bastards fight nasty.” She waved me toward the bathroom, then glanced at Azriel. “You can wait here. Or you could do something useful and help Quinn in the kitchen.”

The thought of Azriel making coffee struck me as funny, but he merely offered a short bow and headed for the kitchen. But then, very few people ever argued with Riley when she used that tone.

I stripped my clothing off as I walked into the bathroom, and dumped the bloodied remnants of it in the bin rather than the laundry chute.

Behind me, Riley sucked in a sharp breath. “What the hell happened to your back?”

I cursed mentally. I’d forgotten about the damn scar. “I fell off my bike and hit a pole.” Which was the truth, just not the reason for the scar. “Both the bike and I got smashed up pretty badly.”

“I can imagine.” Her tone was dry and suggested she didn’t believe my excuse, but she motioned me toward the shower without further comment. The water came on automatically as I entered, the water hot and the spray sharp and massaging. It felt sensational against my battered and bruised body.

“Who else was with you in that tunnel today? Azriel obviously wasn’t.”

I hesitated, but there was little point in lying. Especially since Quinn already knew. “Jak.”

“Have you lost brain cells or something?” There was an edge of incredulity in her voice. “Why the hell are you messing around with him again?”

“Because I needed someone who knew the streets and who could mix it up with street scum without raising suspicions.” I couldn’t quite hide my irritation. I’d really had enough of people questioning my judgment today. “He’s a source, nothing more.”

She studied me for a moment; then a warm grin broke loose. “Spoken like a true daughter of mine. Your mother would be horrified.”

I smiled. “She always did blame you for my wild ways.”

“Yeah, she did.” Her grin faded. “So tell me about the hellhounds.”

I did so. Once I was out of the shower, she sealed the few wounds that were still bleeding, patched up the rest, then fetched me some clean clothes. When I was dressed, she dragged me into her arms and hugged me fiercely.

“Ris, we’re here if you ever need help. Remember that.”

I blinked back sudden tears. “I know, but—”

“But you are incredibly stubborn and want to do things your way.” She stepped back, a slight smile twisting her lips. “You really could have been mine, we’re so damn alike. Which is why I’m reminding you. I don’t want you making the same mistakes I did.”

“I won’t.”

Her gaze searched mine for several seconds, and her smile become stronger. “You won’t seek help, you mean.” Her voice was wry. “Not unless you absolutely have to.”

I didn’t say anything. She laughed, then caught my hand and tugged me toward the living room. “Let’s go get you fed, before you fade away into nothing.”

I’d made it through three meat and salad sandwiches and was feeling a hell of a lot more sociable when the phone rang. The ringtone told me it was Rhoan, and trepidation tripped through me.

I swallowed to ease a suddenly dry throat, then hit the vid-phone’s ANSWER button. Rhoan’s expression was grim. “He’s made contact.”

“And?”

“We have a name—Vonda Belmore.”

I frowned. “Why would he give you her name? It makes the hunt far too easy.”

“Yeah, that’s what’s got us worried.”

“So what do you want me to do?”

“Where are you?”

I hesitated. “At your place.”

He groaned. “Don’t tell me Riley’s listening—”

“Yes, she is,” Riley said mildly, over my shoulder. “And she’s very interested in the reason why you’re involving Risa in Directorate business.”

“Because I have no other damn choice, that’s why. Look, I’ll explain everything later. Right now, we have a murderer to hunt, and Ris has to be in on it.”

“Is this something I can help with? I have more experience than Ris—”

“Yeah, but that’s not going to help in this case. She made contact with the killer on the astral plane before she knew we were after him, and now he won’t deal with anyone else.”

“He’s a murderer. He should be dead, not dealing with anyone, least of all Risa.”

“The problem is, he’s a fucking ghost and we can’t find him. We have to use Risa to have any hope of tracking him down, but trust me, we’ll take good care of her.”

“I trust you, Rhoan. I just don’t trust the killers you hunt.”

She squeezed my shoulder, then walked away, leaving me feeling warm deep inside. I might have lost my real mom, but in very many ways, I still had another.

“I’ll send you the address,” Rhoan said. “Meet me there in twenty minutes.”

“Will do.”

I hung up, then grabbed the last sandwich as I stood.

“To repeat myself, be careful,” Riley said, her expression concerned.

I smiled grimly. “As Azriel has already noted, I’ve lost more than enough blood for one day. I’m not intending to lose any more.”

“I don’t think it’s your intentions she’s concerned about,” Quinn noted.

I half smiled, then walked around the table, kissed them both, and said, “I’ll be fine. I won’t do anything stupid. I promise.”

And I hoped like hell it was a promise I could actually keep.

The address Rhoan sent me was for a small house in Campbellfield. It was off a busy main street, on one of those long blocks that had been subdivided years ago, with a second dwelling built at the back. That was the one we were interested in.

I sat on a brick fence on the opposite side of the road. The rumble of trucks and cars going past was so damn loud that the clatter of a helicopter overhead was almost lost to it. The air was an unpleasant mix of exhaust, rubber, and the various scents coming from the fast-food shops down the road, and my nose twitched against the need to sneeze.

I glanced at my watch. We still had a couple of minutes to wait, and frustration swirled through me. It was tempting—very tempting—to just head in myself, but I’d promised Riley to be careful and that wasn’t exactly careful-type behavior. Besides, I wasn’t at the top of my game right now—in fact, a gnat could probably overpower me with very little effort. I needed sleep, and I needed more food despite everything I’d already eaten. But most of all, I needed the bad guys to be sensible and give me a break.

And seeing as I couldn’t control them in any way, shape, or form, I guessed the sensible had to come from me.

I sighed wearily and leaned against Azriel’s shoulder. He didn’t move, didn’t react, didn’t wrap his arm around me and pull me closer, but the skin-on-skin contact was still oddly comforting.

“Is there anyone inside?” I asked eventually.

“A woman, a man, and a child in the first house. No one alive in the second.” Amusement warmed his otherwise formal tones as he added, “And before you ask, there’s no one dead, either.”

“So if this is the next victim’s address, he might already have her.”

“That is more than possible.”

I glanced left as a black Ford turned into the street. Rhoan. Given the Directorate plates, it couldn’t be anyone else.

The car slid to a halt in front of us. There were two men inside, but only Rhoan climbed out. He didn’t look happy.

The trepidation that had been up until now little more than a muted background buzz suddenly sharpened. I straightened. “What’s up?”

“This whole setup. He’s deviating from his previous MO and I’m not liking the possible reason.”

“You think it’s some sort of trap?”

“It can’t be anything else,” he growled. “We’ve done a quick background check on Vonda. She turned vamp about one hundred years ago, and has been leading a relatively low-profile life ever since. She works the night shift at the Ford vehicle factory in Broadmeadows and doesn’t socialize much.”

I frowned. “What about feeding? How does she cope with that if she doesn’t socialize much?”

He shrugged. “She probably uses synth blood. They’ve gotten better at manufacturing it in recent years.”

A fact he knew because his vampire half sometimes demanded blood, even if he didn’t have the teeth to go with the hunger. “So Vonda has nothing in common with the other victims?”

“Other than that she seems the least likely target for a serial killer, no.” He spun around and studied the houses on the opposite side of the road. “She lives with her sister, who also works at Ford. We had an infrared-equipped helicopter sweep the area a few moments ago. There’s three people in the first house, but no one is at home in our target house.”

He was half vampire and had infrared vision himself, so he didn’t really need the helicopter to tell him that. Maybe he just didn’t want to get too close to the house and spook our quarry—not that he was inside from the sound of it.