“My mission is sharply defined.”
“Your mission?”
“I’m a soldier, Lindsay. I have duties and orders, and I follow them. I expect those whose job it is to hunt demons feel the same way about their responsibilities. It’s not my place to intercede and I wouldn’t regardless. Frankly, I have enough on my plate.”
“But someone is taking care of them?”
“Yes.”
She stared at him a moment, then nodded slowly. “I didn’t know. If someone’s vibe is off, I’ve taken them out.”
Adrian’s grip on the counter tightened. It was a miracle she was alive today. “How do you sense this vibe? How does it feel?”
“Like I’m walking through a Halloween fun house and I know something is about to jump out at me. My stomach quivers and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. But it’s really intense. There’s no mistaking it for anything else.”
“Sounds scary. Yet you hunt the things that scare you. Why?”
Lindsay set her chin atop steepled fingers. “I don’t have aspirations of saving the world, if that’s what you’re asking. I hate killing. But I can feel the evil in these things for a reason. I can’t turn my back on that. I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night.”
“You feel you have a calling.”
She took a slow, deep inhalation. The silence stretched out. “Something like that.”
“Who knows that you hunt?”
“You and your guards, and whoever you tell.”
“All right. This is a no-brainer, but I have to say it anyway: you’re going to have to trust me,” he said softly. “I have no chance of helping you otherwise.”
“That’s what you intend to do? Help me?” Her shoulders went back. “Did you know about me when you saw me in the airport?”
“Did I know you could sense demons and vamps, and were actively hunting them?” he clarified, deliberately narrowing the scope of her query so he could answer honestly. “No. I saw you, I wanted you, and you made it clear there was a possibility I could have you. I acted on that.”
Lines bracketed her mouth and eyes. A muscle in her jaw twitched with tension. “And that sort of coincidence just rolls right off your back?”
“I happened to be in the same place you were at the right time. After that, we met because you sensed I was ‘different,’ right?”
“Actually, I thought you were the hottest man I’d ever seen. The vibe came later. As for right place/right time, I should have been on an earlier flight. I missed my connection.”
“And I was attacked by a vampire this morning, which resulted in the crash of my helicopter and a need to travel commercial. See?” He shrugged. “Random chaos.”
“You’re an angel. Aren’t you supposed to preach about a divine plan or something?”
“Freedom of choice, Lindsay. We all have it. Today you and I were affected by the ramifications of other people’s choices.” He held her gaze. “But you don’t really want to get into a theological discussion with me. You want to avoid talking about the events that led you to hunt. I’m not going to push you-yet-but we’re at an impasse until I know what’s going on with you.”
She stared back. “You’re so sure I have a story to tell.”
“I saw you in action. It takes years of practice to learn how to wield a blade like that. Who taught you?”
“I taught myself.”
Fierce admiration heated his blood. “What materials are you using to forge your blades? You must use at least trace amounts of silver.”
“Yes. I figured out most…
“Dragons don’t. In fact, aside from two points of weakness, they have an impenetrable hide. Your blade would’ve bounced right off of him if he’d shifted.”
Lindsay held up her left hand and showed the pad of her thumb. A straight crimson line betrayed a recent injury. “Some creatures have a negative reaction to my blood, too. I always smear a little on my blades before I toss them, just in case. The blood by itself won’t kill, but it gives my weapons a chance to get the job done. Found that out the hard way.”
Adrian’s mind spun with the implications. She was mortal, but even if she’d been a naphil like Shadoe, her blood shouldn’t have any effect on others.
She continued to eat, blissfully unaware of his confusion.
Reining in his thoughts, he said, “So you dedicated what had to be a substantial portion of your free time to learning how to kill things that frighten you. You have a strong sense of right and wrong, Lindsay, but no one who’s sane begins killing things without provocation. No matter how evil you sense someone may be, you had to have witnessed that evil firsthand to resort to lethal force. Something tipped you off, and something else keeps you motivated. Vengeance, perhaps?”
“And you want to help me get it?” Her expression was wary and assessing. “How would you do that, exactly?
“Why not? Our goals are the same. You’ve been lucky so far, but that won’t last. One day soon you’re going to take down a demon or vamp who has friends who’ll hunt you, or you’ll miss your target. Either way, your days are numbered.”
“Can you teach me the difference between vampires and demons?”
“So you have a preference.” He crossed his arms. “I can point you in the right direction and give you backup. I can train you how to hunt more effectively and show you how to kill without relying on surprise. Right now you’re floating aimlessly, waiting for random encounters. I can give you focus and specific targets.”
Lindsay leaned back in her chair. “You don’t even know me.”
Her proclivities, while deeply troubling, provided him with an ideal excuse to keep her close. “I’m holding the front line in a battle in which I’m outnumbered. I can use every soldier.”
“But this isn’t all I do. I have a regular life and a job.”
“So do I. We can work out the logistics together.”
She caught her lower lip between her teeth. After an interminable moment, she nodded. “Okay.”
Adrian’s focus shifted to the expected report on Phineas’s death. “Join us.”
The Sentinel entered the kitchen. He glanced briefly at Lindsay, then turned his attention to Adrian. “Captain.”
Introducing them, Adrian made a point of identifying Lindsay as a recruit.
Damien’s seraph blue eyes returned to her. “Ms. Gibson.”
“Call me Lindsay, please.”
“Speak freely,” Adrian prompted Damien, giving the Sentinel a look that told him to hold his questions about Lindsay’s incarnation of Shadoe until later.
There was a moment of hesitation; then Damien began relaying the details. “I didn’t get a lot of usable information out of Phineas’s surviving lycan. The beast was incoherent with grief. He did say that the vampire who attacked them was sick. I’m not sure if he meant physically ill or mentally twisted. The attack was especially brutal, so it could very well be the latter. Phineas’s neck was gnawed down to his spinal cord.”
Lindsay cleared her throat. “Lycans? As in werewolves?”
Adrian glanced at her. “Werewolves are demons. Lycans share a bloodline with them, which allows them to shape-shift in a similar manner. But unlike weres, they were once angels.”
“And as a heads-up,” Damien added grimly, “they get very offended if anyone calls them werewolves.”
“Angels.” Lindsay’s eyes were wide and dark, the irises a mere sliver of brown around dilated pupils. “Why didn’t they become vampires?”
“Because I needed reinforcement,” Adrian said. “We came to an agreement-I would petition the Creator to spare them from vampirism if they agreed to help me keep the vampires in line.”
