Darkness Hunts (Dark Angels #4)

“I will.”

“I’ll be in touch when we have him.”

He hung up, but the phone beeped immediately as two messages came in. I opened them to discover the faces of both my hunter and his assistant.

As Rhoan had noted, Zane was one hell of an ugly man. His face was round and puffy, the left side so scarred that it almost looked like it had melted. His hair was sparse and the same nondescript brown as his eyes, and his nose large.

Jason Bright, his companion in crime, had thin features, thick-framed black glasses, and dirty blond hair. He was the sort of man you wouldn’t look twice at on the street. The sort of man who looked totally and absolutely harmless.

And yet it was no doubt thanks to him that Zane had discovered my home address. If he could hack into the systems of high-profile companies, it would have been easy enough to gain access to the security company that monitored Vonda’s and Dani’s homes.

And maybe he was the reason the Directorate hadn’t been having much luck tracking Zane. If he was so damn good, then it wouldn’t have been too hard to get into the Directorate system and see what they were up to. After all, Stane could do exactly that—though he hadn’t recently because the Directorate had increased security and he preferred to stay out of jail.

I took one more look at the killer who was hunting me, then dumped the phone on the nearby pillow and closed my eyes. Weariness still rode me, but it was nowhere near as deep as it had been. I half wondered if Azriel had given me a little energy boost while I’d slept.

“No,” he said softly. “It would not have been wise.”

To touch you. The unspoken part of that sentence swam through my thoughts. Frustration rose like a wave and threatened to swamp me yet again.

Get it under control, I reminded myself fiercely. Accept the reality and just move on.

But saying that, and actually doing it, were two entirely different things.

“What time is it?” I asked eventually. I could have opened my eyes and looked at the nearby clock—hell, I could have picked up my phone and looked—but right now either required too much effort.

“Four o’clock.”

“A.m. or p.m.?”

“P.m.”

That did wake me. “So I’ve slept for over twelve hours?”

“You needed it. You were running far too close to the edge of exhaustion, Risa.”

“Hard to do anything else considering what keeps getting thrown at me,” I muttered. I flipped the covers away from my face and sat up.

Azriel’s gaze swept me briefly, then moved away. But not before I’d caught the flash of desire in his eyes.

“Tao has gone to the restaurant to deal with the council inspectors.” His voice was back to its formal self. “Stane has coffee percolating, Coke in the fridge, and bacon and eggs on standby.”

“I need all three. But I need a shower first.”

I forced myself out of bed, raided Stane’s closet for an old T-shirt to wear between here and the bathroom, then grabbed my toiletries and clothes and headed out.

Stane swiveled around in his chair and gave me an appreciative once-over. “That T-shirt looks a lot better on you than it does on me.”

I smiled. “How did the game go last night?”

“We thoroughly thrashed the opposition, and moved up several levels in the process. What would you like to eat?”

“Azriel mentioned bacon and eggs.”

“Done,” he said, and practically bounced toward his kitchen.

I quickly showered and dressed. Though Azriel wasn’t present in body, he was still nearby, still keeping watch. The heat of him washed across my skin like a summer breeze, warm and sultry.

I once again forced myself to thrust away the growing slithers of desire, and followed the delicious aroma of fried bacon back out into the kitchen portion of his open living area.

Stane slid both a Coke and a mug of steaming coffee over to me, then flipped the eggs. “I did that search for Henry Mack, Jason Marks, and Mark Jackson.”

It took me a moment to remember that Mack, Marks, and Jackson were the aliases of the Razan we’d knocked out in the cavern where the hellhounds had attacked us.

I propped on the nearby stool. “And?”

“As you might have already guessed, neither the Mack nor Marks identity actually exists. The Jackson one does, although if it is the same man, he’s over a hundred years old.” He served up the bacon and eggs, then picked up his coffee and leaned his elbows on the kitchen counter.

“If he’s listed as a Middle East war veteran,” I said, alternating between speaking, eating, and drinking, “then it’s the same man.”

“Interesting, given that the photos of his recent incarnations suggest he’s not more than forty.”

“He’s had a little magical help.”

Stane snorted. “Then they should package that and make a fortune.”

“Trust me, it’s the sort of magical help you wouldn’t want. It amounts to slavery.”

“Oh, well, that they can keep.” He grimaced and drank some more coffee. “The address listed for both the Mack and Marks identities is Railway Crescent, Broadmeadows, but I couldn’t find them listed as tenants in the apartments there.”

“Probably because he actually lives in Dawson Street, Brunswick West.” If what Uncle Quinn had pulled from his mind was to be believed, anyway. “Any chance of you checking to see if there’s a traffic camera nearby, and monitoring it?”

“I can check. Can’t promise results.”

“Thanks.”

He grinned. “You know, a crate or two of Bollinger wouldn’t go astray. I’m almost out of the last lot.”

I choked down a laugh. “Done deal. And cheap at half the price.”

“Then I shall double the price next time.”

He could triple the price and it would still be cheap. The information he kept getting for us was invaluable.

I scooped up the last of the egg yolk with a piece of bacon, then pushed the plate away with a contented sigh. “That was delish. Thanks.”

“You’re lucky. I normally only stock frozen meals, but Mom insisted on having real stuff while she was here.”

I grinned. “Mothers are funny like that.”

“Tell me about it.” His voice was gloomy, but there was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “She’s even insisting I meet the daughter of one of her friends before she leaves.”

“The daughter might be hot, you know.”

He snorted. “It’s not the hotness that matters, it’s the nerd factor. Most women these days have absolutely no appreciation of either the fine art of hacking or black marketeering. And they always want to dust.”

“Heaven forbid,” I said, voice dry.

“I know! What is with that?”

I snorted, but didn’t reply as my phone rang. The tone told me it was Lucian, so I excused myself and walked into Stane’s bedroom to answer it.

“Well, hello,” he said, his voice low and intimate. Just the sound of it had desire stirring, and though I suspected it wasn’t entirely “real,” it didn’t seem to matter. Nor did Ilianna’s leafy charm appear to mute that reaction.

But maybe it only worked for face-to-face confrontations. I had to hope so, because if I was going to continue my relationship with Lucian, I wanted it to be because I chose to, not because I was under some sort of compulsion spell.

“Hello, yourself,” I said, keeping my voice as even as possible. “What can I do for you?”

Surprise flitted briefly through the bright depths of his eyes. Obviously, he’d been expecting a stronger response.

“Oh, I’m sure I can think of one or two things, but the point of the call is what I can do for you.”

The emphasis he placed on I and you had all sorts of wicked images floating through my mind. I cleared my throat and said, “And what might that be?”

“Besides the obvious, you mean?”

I half smiled. “Yeah, besides that.”

“Lauren believes she might have an answer to our dilemma.”

My heart began to race a little faster. Now that the moment was here, I wasn’t sure that I should go through with it.

“What sort of answer?”

“She didn’t say. She just said she needs to run a test to ensure it works, and for that she requires your presence.”

I hesitated. “Lucian, I don’t think—”

“It can’t hurt to check out what she has to offer,” he interrupted, in a voice that wasn’t about to brook any argument. “After all, it may not even work.”

I had to hope so, because I really didn’t want to be in debt to a dark sorcerer.

So why even bother going? Azriel’s thought was knife sharp.

Because I need to know. About whatever magic our dark sorceress had come up with, and about the charm that now encircled my wrist.

And if the charm doesn’t work?

Then I guess you have the choice of watching, joining in, or keeping your distance. My reply was somewhat tight. I might understand his reasons for keeping his distance, I might even agree that it was for the best when it came to the task still ahead of us, but that didn’t give him the right to get pissy whenever I happened to be talking to—or was with—Lucian. Even if he had placed a compulsion spell on me.

I half expected Azriel to disappear in another huff, but he merely crossed his arms and gave me his impassive, not-thinking, not-feeling face.

“Earth to Risa,” Lucian said. “You there?”

I blinked. “Yeah.”

“But obviously didn’t hear a word I just said,” he said, amusement teasing the corners of his eyes. “That reaper giving you grief again?”

“No.”

He sighed. “You’re not a very good liar, my girl. I said, Lauren will be here at five, if you’re free.”

“Where’s ‘here’?”

“My apartment, not the club.” He paused, then gave me a wide grin. My stupid hormones did a happy little two-step. “Although we could visit the club afterward, if you’d like. It’s fancy-dress night.”