Darkness Devours (14 page)

“I’ll see you at the Brindle.” I didn’t bother waiting for an answer. I just shoved my helmet on, fired up the bike, and raced into the street.

Unfortunately, it was peak hour and all the main roads were playing parking lots again. Frustrated, I swung into a side street and took the more roundabout but better-flowing route to the Brindle.

Only trouble was, I didn’t get there.

One moment I was cruising down the street behind a belching truck; the next I was hit side-on. The force of the impact ripped me from my bike and sent me flying toward a light pole. It happened so fast I didn’t even have time to try to protect myself—I just hit the pole and wrapped around it like an old bit of rubbish.

Then I slumped to the ground, battling to breathe and struggling to ignore the pain stabbing into my brain as well as the gathering tide of blackness that threatened to wash away consciousness.

I couldn’t let go. I just
couldn’t
.

It was a thought that made no sense, but one that had me struggling to rise nevertheless. I made it to my knees—the pain was too great to go any farther. Although getting even that far meant I hadn’t broken anything major.
Yay for the strength of werewolf bones,
I thought fuzzily.

Something warm and sticky gushed down the side of my cheek. I swiped at it and hit the visor instead. It was half hanging off, and swinging back and forth with my movements. I swore and wrenched it off completely. It clattered to the ground, though oddly made
no sound. In fact, the whole world seemed to be silent. Or maybe I just couldn’t hear through the roar that seemed to be filling my head.

I blinked and looked around. Saw my bike lying on her side, hydrogen leaking from her tanks. It looked surreal, like blood, and I hoped like hell her wound wasn’t fatal.

That odd roaring got louder and I suddenly realized what it was. It was Amaya, screaming a warning, screaming for blood.

It was then that I saw them—Ania. And this time, there weren’t only six or so. This time, there were so many that it looked like an ethereal tower of white speeding toward me.

A hand wrapped around my arm and yanked me upright. My heart just about jumped out of my chest, even though instinct and something else—something that was infinitely deeper and decidedly scarier—told me it was Azriel.

Power surged as he pulled me close and wrapped his other arm around my waist. Valdis blazed at his back, as eager as Amaya to fight, but neither sword was getting its wish today. Azriel’s power burned around me—through me—sweeping us both from flesh to energy. A second later we were on the gray fields, but they weren’t the fields that I knew. My gray fields were a place of shadows, a place where things not sighted in the real world suddenly gained substance. But in Azriel’s arms, the fields were vast and beautiful, filled with structures and life that were delicate and unworldly.

Then the brightness and warmth of his world was
gone, replaced by a darkness that felt damp and smelled faintly of rot and excrement. The sewers, I thought dazedly. Why the hell were we in the sewers?

“Because this is the last place the Ania or the Raziq will think to look for us,” Azriel said.

He shifted his grip and guided me down onto a chair. Which was a smart move, because if he’d simply let go I think I would have fallen. My legs were like jelly and my whole body was shaking.

I looked around. Wherever we were, it didn’t actually
look
like a sewer. It actually resembled a small control room of some sort, filled with computers and what looked to be some kind of projector…

Memory stirred, and I suddenly realized that this was the control room where Ike Foreman had held me and questioned me about the keys for the portals of hell—although we still had no clear idea for whom he’d been working. He’d died in the sewer just beyond the main doorway, shot by Lucian. The image of Foreman’s face—and the surprise that had flitted across it a second before he died—rose, and I suddenly found myself wondering
why
he’d been so shocked. It wasn’t the fact that death had found him; of that I was sure.

“We’ll just be here long enough to stop this bleeding,” Azriel continued, drawing me out of my thoughts. But his attention was focused on the helmet that had saved me, and after a moment he unsheathed Valdis. “Stay still.”

I tightened my fingers around the arms of the chair, suddenly fighting the urge to flee. “What the hell are you intending to do?”

“Your helmet shattered when you hit the pole, and there are several pieces embedded in your head.”

Well, that would certainly explain the pain in my head and the blood on my cheek. “So just take them out and then remove the helmet. There’s no need to try to cut it off—”

“I suspect moving the shards will cause greater bleeding. Valdis will obliterate the shards and heal the wound at the same time.” He paused, and his gaze met mine. There was something unyielding in his eyes, almost as if he were drawing a line in the sand. “You said you trusted me.”

I licked my lips. “I do, but using Valdis to dig them out seems a little like using a jackhammer to hit home a nail.”

“Valdis would never harm you. She can’t.”

I raised my eyebrows at that. “Why not?”

His expression became closed again. “Do you trust me?”

That was a question I’d answered more than once. He was connected to me on a chi level—and far more strongly than he was admitting—and he knew just how much I
did
trust him, even if the occasional doubt raised its ugly head. I motioned for him to proceed.

Valdis’s fire was a strange green-gold as he brought her close. Droplets of fire splattered across my skin, hissing as they touched, yet not hurting. Warmth flushed upward from my neck and face, until even the ends of my hair felt like they were on fire. There was a brief retort, and a bitter smell—which was a mix of melting fiberglass and burning carbon fiber—filled the air.

Then it was gone, and with it the stabbing pain in the side of my head.

Azriel sheathed Valdis, then slowly—carefully—removed the helmet. The shards digging into my skull might have been eliminated, but it still hurt like shit. I blinked back tears, and gripped the chair arms so damn tightly that my fingernails tore into the leather.

“You were extremely lucky,” Azriel said, and held the helmet so I could see it.

The whole left side was broken, much of it dented inward toward what was now a jagged and somewhat melted hole in the center. It was destroyed—but it had undoubtedly saved my life.

My gaze rose and met Azriel’s. The anger that burned in the mismatched blue depths just about snatched my breath away. “The Ania could have killed me.”

“By mistake, yes, but if they’d actually wanted to kill you, they could have easily done so by now. And remember, it wasn’t so much an attack in the café as an attempt to capture you.” He tossed the helmet aside. It clattered against the old stones and rolled limply into the shadows. “It would also appear that changing your hair made little difference. They obviously know more about your habits than I presumed.”

I didn’t have the energy to say “I told you so,” and simply leaned back in the chair and closed my eyes. While the pain in my head had all but gone, the rest of me felt more than a little pulverized. But I guess feeling that way was better than actually being so, and that had very nearly been the reality.

“I can’t step away from everything and go into hiding,
Azriel,” I said, after a moment. “That won’t find the Rakshasa and it certainly won’t find us the keys.”

“No, but staying away from the things they are aware of—like your bike, the café, and your apartment—would be a good start until we figure out a way to stop these attacks.”

I opened my eyes again. “Do you really think we can stop them? I don’t.”

“We
can
stop them.” He said it firmly, like he was trying to convince himself as much as me. Which was an odd thought, since he generally saw these things in black-and-white—
will
or
won’t
. “But until we do, we should do all that we can to avoid them.”

“I won’t stop visiting Tao. I can’t.” Ilianna might send me regular updates, but that wasn’t the same as being there.

He grimaced. “That could be dangerous, not just to you but to Ilianna and Tao.”

Fear slithered through me. “The Ania couldn’t mount an attack inside the Brindle. Her magic wouldn’t let them.”

“The Ania couldn’t, no, but the Raziq might well attempt it if these ambushes keep failing.”

And the witches had already warned us that the Brindle had no defenses against the Raziq. “That’s only if they
are
the ones behind them.”

“They are. I felt their touch behind the Ania this time.”

Well,
fuck
. I swiped angrily at the blood still dribbling down my cheek. Valdis might have healed the worst head wound when she melted the helmet shards,
but there were obviously several smaller ones if the blood was anything to go by. “I guess this means I’m staying at the Langham again—”

“Not the Langham,” he cut in. “You’ve stayed there before, so it would be wise not to risk it.”

I grimaced. Being hunted by minor demons wasn’t half as annoying as missing out on staying at my favorite five-star hotel.

Azriel wrapped his hand around mine and gently pulled me to my feet. “You, Risa Jones,” he said softly, “have a strange way of looking at things.”

He was standing so close that his breath teased my lips as he spoke, and his scent—a scent that was man and musk and sharply electric—filled every breath. And all I had to do was lean forward, just a little, and I’d be kissing him. But as much as I wanted to do just that, I also feared it could forever change our relationship—and maybe not in a good way. So I simply said, “This, coming from a man who can describe lovemaking only as enlightening.”

How my voice came out even I had no idea, given the tumultuous push-pull being waged inside me.

“It is an apt word when one has never experienced it before.” His gaze was steady on mine and he showed no inclination to release me. Maybe he simply figured I wasn’t steady enough after the accident, but something inside me whispered
no
. Azriel knew exactly what he was doing—and what it was doing to me. And that, in turn, implied intent.

“Tell me what you want, Risa.” He said it so softly it was little more than a whisper that ran through my mind.

What did I want?
I don’t fucking know,
I thought, my gaze searching his. Or rather, I
did
know, but I just didn’t have the courage to reach for it when he was the one person who had my back no matter what I did. And right now, that was more valuable to me than whatever this was between us.

I took a deep, somewhat shuddery breath, and said, “Right now, I really want a shower and fresh clothes. Then I need to meet Jak.”

He didn’t say anything for several heartbeats—which wasn’t that long given just how fast my heart was beating—then he inclined his head slightly. Conceding to what lay unspoken rather than what had been said.

“What hotel?”

I shrugged. “I’m known for my five-star tastes, so we’re probably better off going to someplace like the BreakFree on Little Bourke Street.”

The words were barely out of my mouth when his power surged around us, sweeping us quickly through the gray fields before re-forming us inside a bathroom. Two women were standing at the washbasins, but neither paid any attention to us. He was obviously taking care of that, too.

He released me and stepped back, and something deep inside mourned the loss of his closeness. “I thought you might like to wash the blood away before you check in.”

I glanced at the mirror and saw the blood streaking my face and matting one side of my hair. I grimaced, turned on the taps, and ducked my head under the water, rinsing my hair, then scrubbing my face and
neck. As the two women walked out, I hit the dryer button, flicked the nozzle upward, and finger-dried my hair—wincing several times in the process as my fingertips caught the smaller cuts on my head. At least short dark hair had its good points—it didn’t take long to dry, and you couldn’t see the blood that was still weeping from the other wounds.

“I don’t suppose you want to do me a favor?” I said, as I turned around. He merely raised an eyebrow, so I added, “I have a bag of spare clothes and basic toiletries sitting in my locker at the café. Could you go grab it?”

He nodded, and disappeared so quickly I was tempted to think he’d been looking for an excuse to distance himself. I rang my mechanic to pick up the Ducati as I walked over to the reception desk, then booked a room for a couple of nights and headed up to it. A long hot shower didn’t do a whole lot to ease the aches, and if the bruises already beginning to appear were anything to go by, I was going to have a rainbow adorning the left side of my body come tomorrow.

My bag was waiting for me on the floor near the towels once I’d finished. I frowned, wondering how he’d gotten in here without my sensing him, then shrugged and got dressed.

He was standing at the room’s one window, his hands clasped behind his back and Valdis burning with a muted reddish yellow fire. He didn’t say anything or turn around, so I walked across to the bed, grabbed my phone out of my purse—which thankfully had survived the crash relatively unscathed—and rang Ilianna.

“Hey there,” she said. “I was getting worried about you.”

The vid-screen wasn’t showing a picture. I frowned and pressed the
MODE
button, figuring it might have somehow gotten switched in the accident, but it made no difference. Which meant I’d be looking for a new phone in the near future—just what I needed on top of everything else.

“Yeah, sorry, but it looks like I won’t make it there tonight.”

“I had a feeling there was trouble.”

“There was. And I think I need to step away from things until we sort out what the hell is going on.”

“Damn,” she muttered. “I gather you’re okay? What about the Ducati?”

Obviously, she’d had more than a feeling if she knew I’d been on the Ducati when trouble hit. “I’m okay, but I have no idea if the same can be said about the bike, as we had to abandon her.”