around his ribs from underneath his arm, the tips brushing across the left side of his neck.
Only it wasn’t a tat. It was a Dusan—a darker, more stylized brother to the one that resided on my left arm—and had been designed to protect us when we walked the gray fields. We had no idea who’d sent them to us, but Azriel suspected it was my father, who apparently was one of the few left in this world—or the next—who had the power to make them.
Of course, Azriel wasn’t just a reaper, but something far more. He was one of the Mijai, the dark angels who hunted and killed the things that broke free from hell. And they had more than their fair share of work now that the first gate had been opened.
If you ask me, death is looking more and more like the perfect solution when it comes to the keys. My mental voice sounded as weary as my physical one. I wasn’t actually telepathic—not in any way, shape, or form— but that didn’t matter when it came to my reaper. He could hear my thoughts as clearly as the spoken word.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t always a two-way street. Most of the time I heard his thoughts only when it was a deliberate act on his part. If I’m not here to find the damn things, then the world and my friends remain safe.
He crossed his arms, an action that only emphasized the muscles in his arms and shoulders. Death is no solution. Not for you. Not now.
And what the hell is that supposed to mean?
His gaze met mine, his blue eyes—one as vivid and bright as a sapphire, the other as dark as a storm-driven sea—giving little away. It means exactly what it says.
Great. More riddles. Another thing I really needed right now. I returned my attention to Hunter’s deathlike stare. “How did your friend die?”
“He was restrained, then drained.”
“Drained? As in a vampire style, all-the-blood-from-the-body draining or something else?”
She hesitated,Shere and and for just a second I saw something close to grief in her eyes. Whoever her friend was, they’d been a lot closer than mere lovers.
“Have you ever seen the husk of a fly after a spider has finished with it?” she said. “That’s what he looked like. There was nothing left but the dried remains of outer skin. Everything else had been sucked away.”
I stared at her for a moment, wondering whether I’d heard her right, then swallowed heavily and said, “Everything? As in, blood, bone—”
“Blood, bone, muscle, intestines, brain. Everything.” Her voice was suddenly fierce. “As I said, all that remained was the shell of hardened outer skin.”
A shudder ran through me. I did not want to meet, let alone chase, something that could do that to a body.
“How can human skin be hardened into a shell? Or the entire innards of a body sucked away? It had to be one hell of a wound.”
“On the contrary, the wound was quite small—two slashes on either side of his abdomen.” She hesitated. “He did not appear to die in agony. Quite the opposite, in fact.”
“I guess that’s some comfort—”
“He’s dead,” she cut in harshly. “How is that ever going to be a comfort?”
I should have known I’d get my head bitten off if I tried sympathy on the bitch. “Where is his body? And is the Directorate being called in on this?”
If it was, it could get tricky. Uncle Rhoan worked for them—he was, in fact, second in charge of the guardian division these days—but he had no idea I was working for Hunter and the council. And I wanted to keep it that way, because the shit would really hit the fan if he and Aunt Riley ever found out. They’d always considered me one of their pack, but that protectiveness had increased when Mom had died. They’d kill me if they knew I’d agreed to work with Hunter—and once they’d dealt with me, they’d track her down and confront her. And that was a situation that could never end nicely.
I’d already endangered the lives of too many people I cared about by dragging them into this mad quest for the keys—I didn’t want to make the situation worse in any way.
“Yes, they are,” she said, “but Jack has been made aware of my wishes in this, and will ensure you get first bite at the crime scene.”
Amusement briefly ran through me, although I doubted her pun had been intentional. “That really doesn’t help with the problem—”
“Rhoan Jenson will not get in the way of this. You are a consultant, nothing more, as far as he is concerned.”
I snorted. “A consultant you’re using to hunt and kill.”
“Yes. And you would do well to remember that you remain alive only as long as the council and I agree on your usefulness.”
“And—” Azriel said, suddenly standing behind me. His closeness had desire stirring, even though I had little enough energy to spare. “—you would do well to remember that rem suany attempt to harm her would be met with even more deadly force.”
Hunter smiled, but there was nothing pleasant about it. “We both know you cannot take a life without just cause, reaper, so do not make your meaningless threats to me.”
“What I have done once I can do again,” he said, his voice stony. “And in this case, as in the last, I would revel in a death taken before its time.”
Azriel, stop poking the bear. I’ve already antagonized her enough.
That is a somewhat absurd statement, given she is clearly vampire, not bear.
Amusement slithered through me again, as he’d no doubt intended. He’d grown something of a sense of humor of late—which was, according to him, a consequence of spending far too much time in flesh form. Whether that was true, I had no idea, but I certainly preferred this more “human” version to the remote starchiness that had been present when he’d first appeared. You know what I mean.
Surprisingly, I do. He touched my shoulder, the contact light but somehow possessive. But her threats grow tedious. She must be made aware it gains her nothing.
Hunter laughed. The sound was harsh, cold, and sent another round of chills down my spine. “Reaper, you amuse me. One of these days, when I’m tired of this life, I might just be tempted to take you on.”
And she was crazy enough to do it, too.
“However,” she continued, “that time is not now. I will send you my friend’s address, Risa. The Directorate will arrive at his home at four. Please be finished with your initial investigation before then, and report your impressions immediately.”
I glanced at my watch. She’d given me a whole hour. Whoop-de-do. “Where does he live, and what sort of security system has he got in place?”
“I’ve just sent you all his details.”
My cell phone beeped almost immediately. I picked it up and glanced at the message. Hunter’s friend—who went by the very German-sounding name Wolfgang Schmidt—lived in Brighton, a very upmarket suburb near the beach. No surprise there, I guess—I certainly couldn’t imagine her slumming it with the regular folk in places like Broadmeadows or Dandenong.
I read the rest of the text, then glanced up at the main phone’s screen again. “Is the security system just key coded?”
“Yes. Wolfgang is—was—a very old-fashioned vampire. He saw no need for anything more than a basic system.”
And maybe, just maybe, that had gotten him killed. While there was no electronic security system on earth that would actually stop a demon, it wasn’t beyond the realms of possibility that something other than a demon had killed her vampire friend.
I mean, no one could ever be one hundred percent right all the time. Not even Hunter—although I’m sure she’d claim otherwise. And really, what sane person would argue the point with her when she wasn’t?
Certainly not me.
And yet you do, Azriel commented, a trace of amusement in his mental tone.
I think we’ve already established I’m not always sane. To Hunter, I added, “You’re not going to be there?”
“No.”
