Darkness Unmasked (Dark Angels #5)

Darkness Unmasked (Dark Angels #5) Page 29

My gaze went to the front of the building. Fire licked along the roof, but much of the front office still seemed to be standing. Which meant that Maggie, the cheerful receptionist who’d been working there yesterday, might still be alive.

And I couldn’t escape the sudden notion that I needed to check—not only to save her life if that were possible, but for the sake of our mission.

My clairvoyance sure picked the oddest times to kick in.

A good-sized crowd had gathered across the other side of the road, but few of them were looking in my direction. I called to the Aedh and she rushed through me, changing my form in an instant.

Heat and dust whispered through my particles as I moved closer to the building, an unpleasant combination that made me want to scratch even though I had no flesh. I slipped through the ugly hole blown in the side of the building and made my way above the debris that had once been a corridor. The storage units on either side were little more than skeletal remnants, with boxes and god knows what else hanging out of them like the innards of a gutted body.

But the wall between the storage section and the office area was still basically intact, and though it was barely visible through the smoke and flames, hope rose.

The door into the office area hung limply from one hinge, tilted inward by the force of the explosion. Flames licked the doorframe and slipped fiery tentacles along the inside ceiling. I went through, mentally wincing as the flames danced through my energy form. It felt like red-hot fingers were being shoved inside me.

The office itself hadn’t escaped damage, despite the buffer of the standing wall. Furniture was strewn everywhere, paper and glass littered the floor, and the front windows were smashed and were held in place only by the thick mesh grills covering them. The air was a morass of dust, smoke, and heat.

I spun around, searching for any sign of life, but couldn’t immediately see anything. The desk where the receptionist had been sitting had tipped over sideways and was now covered by part of the ceiling. There was no sign of life. But, by the same token, there was no evidence of blood or broken body parts.

Then what sounded like a groan came from under the debris of the desk. I swore mentally and shifted back to flesh. The air was so damn hot that it felt like I’d fallen into an oven set on high, and the thick, heavy smoke swirled around me, stinging my eyes and catching in my throat, making me cough.

“Maggie?” I had to shout to be heard above all the noise. “Where are you?”

No answer came, but after a moment, I heard another groan. It was definitely coming from underneath the desk area.

I began grabbing bits of plaster and rubbish from the pile covering the desk and tossed them to one side. Another explosion ripped through the building, and the walls around me shuddered. I ducked instinctively, scraping my thigh along a jagged piece of wood as dust and bricks fell around me. The remnants of plaster still clinging to the ceiling began to crack alarmingly; it wouldn’t take much to bring the rest of it down.

I swore and drew Amaya. Don’t cut or burn the woman’s flesh.

Will not, she replied.

Fire ignited along her blade, the lilac flames bright in the smoky darkness. I used her steel to hack apart the larger chunks of wood, plaster, and metal that lay between me and the receptionist, kicking the smaller bits aside as Amaya’s flames consumed everything else.

From somewhere under the mess came another groan.

“Maggie? Can you hear me?” I shoved Amaya’s tip under a long piece of wood, then thrust it up and back.

There was a pause, then a weak, “Here. Help.”

Something shimmered in the smoky shadows near the door. I tensed, my fingers tightening around Amaya, then realized it was a reaper. She wore the image of an elderly woman and had a kind face and sorrowful blue eyes.

“You can’t have her,” I said fiercely. “She’s not going to die.”

“That is neither your decision nor mine,” the reaper replied softly.

I blinked. None of them had ever talked to me before. None of them except Azriel, anyway.

“That is because you have never spoken directly to any of us before now,” she said, her expression somewhat amused.

“I had no real reason to before now,” I muttered. I grabbed another chunk of wood and threw it away.

A flash of familiar heat across my skin told me Azriel had also appeared. “I thought you weren’t coming in here in flesh form,” he said.

“Yeah, well, you knew it was a lie, so why sound so aggrieved now?” I shoved another piece of wood out of the way. “You could help, you know.”

“I cannot interfere in this one’s life or death, Risa, and you know that.”

“Damn it. I’m not asking you to interfere. I’m just asking you to help me remove some of the rubbish on top of her.”

“I cannot.”

“Well, fuck you both, then!” I raised Amaya and brought her down hard. Her blade hit the desk and, with a resounding crack, split it in two. As her lilac flames began eating into the wood, I raised a foot and kicked half of the desk with all the force I could muster. It tumbled up and back, revealing the bloody and bruised torso of the young receptionist.

I squatted beside her and gently brushed the hair from her eyes. “Maggie? Can you hear me?”

She nodded, though she didn’t open her eyes, and the movement was so weak it might have been imagination on my part.

My gaze slid down her length. Her hips and legs were trapped under the remains of the desk, and the blood I hadn’t seen earlier was there. Everywhere. I bit my lip, then added, “I’m going to get you out of here, okay?”

Her eyes fluttered open. She blinked, and just for a moment, confusion briefly outshone the pain in her eyes. “You. Changed again.”

I frowned, not sure what she meant. Not even sure if she was seeing me. “Your legs are trapped under the desk, Maggie. I’m going to free you, but it could hurt. Okay?”

She swallowed, then nodded and closed her eyes again. I rose, stepped over her, then, as quickly but as gently as I could, grabbed the edge of the desk and flung it up and over her. She screamed. The sound cut through me, as sharp as a knife, then abruptly stopped.

The reaper stepped forward.

“No,” I said. “Please, don’t.”

“Her decision is made. Her soul moves on.” The elderly reaper’s voice was filled with gentle understanding. “There is nothing you can do for her now.”

“Damn it, no,” I said, and looked down. A soft shimmer rolled over the receptionist’s body; then her soul pulled free. She looked at peace, happy almost. I closed my eyes, not wanting to see her spirit take the reaper’s hand and move on.

Not wanting to acknowledge my failure to yet again save someone.

Another explosion ripped through the building. Above, the ceiling cracked and plaster began to fall, the pieces small at first, then getting gradually larger as the cracks grew and joined.

I swore and called to the Aedh, changing form just as the remainder of the ceiling crashed down. It would have crushed me if I’d still been standing there. As it was, dust and debris plumed through my particles, making me feel as if every inch was coated in grime.

I headed back into the hellhole that the main storage area had become, quickly winding my way through the remnants of the corridor until I found Genevieve’s storage locker. Or rather, where it once had been, because this area was definitely ground zero. There was very little left here, nothing but a few blackened, twisted metal remains. I turned around, trying to find the middle of the unit where the stones had stood. What I found instead was the remnant of a leg—though it was little more than crisped strips of skin and meat hanging from a cracked and blackened femur. I looked around for the rest of the body, but couldn’t see anything. Why just that section of whoever’s body it was had survived was anyone’s guess.

There was little evidence left of the stones, which no doubt had been the intention of the blast. Genevieve Sands obviously didn’t want to risk me investigating this locker. It’s just too bad for her that I already had—something she would have known if she’d accessed the site’s security system. For once it seemed that fate had played us a better hand than the bad guys.

I checked the rest of the storage units in the hope that someone else might have survived, but the effort was futile. All I found were bodies. There was nothing else I could do, so I turned around and headed home. Once there, I stripped off and showered, although the dust was so ingrained, I had a sneaking suspicion I’d be rubbing it out of my skin for the next week.

Once I’d finger combed my hair, I headed out to find Azriel. He was back in his usual spot.

“What is it about you and windows?” I grabbed some socks out of the nearby dresser and plopped down on the bed to pull them on.

He shrugged. “It is, quite literally, a window to a small section of your world. It is endlessly interesting watching what goes on.”

“Meaning your world is boring?”

“My world is one of rules and duty. It is not so much boring as that nothing ever changes.”

“I can’t imagine the life of a Mijai would be too boring.”

“The life of a hunter-killer is exciting for only the first couple of millennia.”

I stared at him for a moment, not quite sure I’d heard him right. “Millennia?”

He glanced at me, amusement briefly touching his eyes. “I am young in Mijai terms.”

“But ancient in mine.”

His eyebrows rose. “And this is a problem?”

“No, just surprising, that’s all.” I pulled the last sock on, then reached for my boots. “Did you find Genevieve at the Razans’ place?”

“No, she had already moved on.”

“To the place on the Gold Coast?”

“I checked both there and her house in Prahran. She was at neither.”

“Damn.” I thrust a hand through my hair and wondered if that meant she were dead, or if she were merely being cautious.