Darkness Hunts (DA 4) (13 page)

“As I said, he’s offering a challenge.”

The lift came to a halt and the doors opened. The thick smell of vampire swept in, and my stomach began to knot.

Rhoan strode from the lift. I followed somewhat reluctantly. “So why ring to offer a challenge, and then demand to meet me? And where the hell does he want to meet?”

But even as the question left my lips, I knew. We’d meet on the astral plane again, where the Directorate could employ no traps and he could not be killed.

Rhoan confirmed what I was thinking, then added, “He wouldn’t give us the details, Ris. He wants you, and only you.”

I rubbed my arms and tried to ignore the trepidation that crawled through me. This could only end badly. I didn’t know enough about the astral plane or hunting madmen to avoid the trouble I sensed I was stepping into.

God, as if I didn’t have enough on my plate already.

I followed him silently through the maze of corridors. Though I’d never been down here before now, I’d learned enough over the years to be able to draw a rough floor plan of the place. If the ten levels aboveground were the public face of the Directorate, then the five below were the heart. The majority of the guardians were housed and trained down here, and it was also where the liaisons—the people who made the guardians’ reports legible, who catered to their everyday needs, and who gave them their assignments—operated.

Rhoan slapped his palm against a scanner, and the door slid open. Three other people were already there, but only two looked up as we entered. The first—a brown-eyed, heavy-jowled woman in her mid-fifties—was a stranger. The second, a tall, dark-haired werewolf with handsome features, was Harris West, who’d been recruited by the Directorate after he’d helped Riley out of a deadly situation; I had met him before.

But it was the third man who caught my attention, even though he wasn’t anything out of the ordinary to look at. He sat at the far end of the table, the bright glow of the com-screen in front of him casting a bluish light across his weatherworn features and bald head.

I’d never actually met him, but I knew him all the same. This was Jack Parnell, senior vice president of the Directorate and the man in charge of the entire guardian division.

He was also Madeline Hunter’s half brother, and
that
made him very, very dangerous, even if he didn’t look it.

He finally looked up from the com-screen, then leaned back in his chair and studied me. There was little in his expression to give away what he might be thinking, but that was no surprise. He might be a few hundred years younger than his sister—an oddity due to both the long life span of shifters and the fact that they were born at either end of their father’s life—but he was still a vampire and more than a little practiced at controlling himself. I guess with a sister like Hunter, he’d have to be.

“Risa,” he said, his voice gravelly and holding the slightest hint of warmth. “Thank you for coming so promptly.”

“It’s not like I’ve got any other choice, is it?”

“Now
that’s
the sort of comment Riley would make. You’ve been hanging around her and Rhoan too long.” A half smile teased his lips, but it faded quickly as his gaze ran past me. “And this is your reaper?”

He’s not my anything. He’ll never be my anything
. I swallowed the hollow bitterness that accompanied the thought, and simply said, “His name is Azriel.”

Jack raised one eyebrow. “All reapers are called Azriel, are they not?”

“Yes.” Azriel stopped beside me, his energy warm and intoxicating. “And you are well enough aware of the reason why.”

“All names have power,” Jack said. “Is that why Risa has you at her beck and call?”

I opened my mouth to refute the statement, but again Azriel jumped in before me. “You know the reasons I am here. Let us not play these games when life hangs in the balance.”

Again a smile played briefly about Jack’s lips. I glanced questioningly at Azriel, but he merely looked away. Which was frustrating, to say the least.

Rhoan motioned me to sit, then slid a mug of coffee in front of me. “Here’s the deal. Our hunter wants to meet you on the astral field, where he will outline the details of his macabre challenge.”

I wrapped my fingers around the mug, but it didn’t do much to ease the chill from them. “So no one else can be there?”

“No Directorate personnel,” Jack said. “But he did say the follower you had on the plane was permissible, as he would not interfere. We need to know who your follower is, and whether you can trust him.”

Him
. Not
her,
not
them
. In those bright depths, I saw awareness. He knew who was following me. Knew why.

But was that so very surprising? Hunter might not want the Directorate overall—and Rhoan and Riley in particular—to know about my dealings with her and the vampire council, but Jack was her brother
and
the vice president of the Directorate. It was doubtful she’d keep too many secrets from him.

Although I had to wonder what he thought of her plans to take over the council.

“My follower is someone who currently means me no harm.” I hesitated, then half shrugged.

Rhoan frowned, his gaze flickering between me and Jack. He knew something was going on. “That’s not exactly a ringing endorsement—who is he?”

“No one important.” I took a sip of coffee, then added, “And we haven’t the time to discuss this if our killer wants to meet me in a few minutes.”

“True.” Rhoan’s gaze went to the woman. “Elga?”

She leaned her arms on the table, her gaze narrowing. “You have not had much experience on the plane, have you?”

A smile twitched my lips. “You can tell this by just looking at me?”

“There is a certain energy that radiates from those who travel frequently. How many times has your spirit walked free?”

“On the astral plane? Once. But I do walk the gray fields.”

“That is something, I suppose.” She pursed her lips and didn’t look happy. “We must go prepare.”

Jack nodded. “Take her. Harris, monitor all incoming energies and let me know the second there’s any spike. Rhoan, you’ve got the sensors ready?”

He nodded and rose. I gulped down my coffee, scalding my throat in the process, then followed suit.

“This way,” Elga murmured, her long skirts swishing as she strode past me.

I followed her out the door and down the corridor. The room she entered was small and dark, and reminded me somewhat of Adeline’s room, without the thick padding underfoot. But the air was ripe with the scents of lavender and chamomile, and there was a comfortable-looking bed stuck in one corner.

It was also a room protected by magic. It caressed my skin, a touch that was warm and yet filled with power. It wasn’t as strong or as ancient as the force that protected the Brindle, but it wasn’t something anyone sane would want to mess around with.

Although I’d hazard a guess that our no-face killer didn’t exactly fall into the sane category.

“Okay,” Rhoan said, as he came into the room after me. “Strip off that dress.”

I did as I was bid, suddenly glad that I’d had the foresight to tuck clean underclothing into my purse before I’d met Lucian. Rhoan carefully stuck seven sensors on me—one at the base of my spine, then the others at the top of my head, middle of my forehead, my throat, near my heart, solar plexus, then the final one below my belly button. The chakra points, I realized. They were monitoring my energy flow, not my vital signs. I glanced around to Elga.

“We need to detect incoming energies.” She waved a hand to the bed.

I walked over and lay down. “And if you do detect them?”

“Then we will recall your astral body instantly.” She hesitated. “It shouldn’t be a problem, as this room is well protected. But it’s better to be safe than sorry when we have no idea what—or who—we are dealing with.”

With that, I could only agree.

“Now,” she continued, “do you remember the process?”

“Yes, but I prefer it to be dark.”

The lights went off instantly. Though it was pitch-black, Azriel’s eyes seemed to glow, blue stars in a world that was otherwise black. He didn’t say anything, didn’t do anything, and yet, strength surged. He was here, and I was safe.

But on the astral plane it was a different matter entirely.

I closed my eyes and concentrated on my breathing, waiting until the sense of peace enveloped me. Then I imagined that cord hanging above me, and reached for it. This time, pulling free seemed faster and easier.

I didn’t hang about, simply imagined the dark and grimy warehouse area where I’d first confronted the no-face stranger, and suddenly I was there.

The first person I saw wasn’t our faceless killer but my Cazador follower.

Fancy meeting you here,
I said, my voice dry.

He bowed slightly, amusement creasing the corners of his brown eyes.
You sound about as pleased to be here as I am
.

It’s more accurate to say I’m less than pleased about my reasons for being here.
A soft vibration began to stir the air, a sensation that crawled across my skin and made me shiver. I rubbed imaginary arms and added,
I gather you’re still on a watching brief?

Yes.
His gaze swept me critically, one warrior sizing up another. Not that I’d ever be half the warrior Aunt Riley was, let alone go up against someone like him.
But your energy levels do not seem up to scratch right now, so I will step in if he threatens harm.

I frowned.
Why?

Because Hunter would not be pleased if you were in any way hurt during this
.

Yeah, because then I wouldn’t be able to do
her
dirty work. The unpleasant vibration was getting stronger, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I turned and scanned the shadowy environs, glad that at least on the fields you couldn’t actually smell anything. With the heat of the last few days, the rubbish and putrid-looking puddles would have been close to rank.

The sensations rolling across my skin seemed to reach a peak. Once again both the Dušan and the charm at my neck reacted, the latter burning so fiercely it cast the figure of the man who suddenly appeared into stark relief.

Fear stirred briefly. There was something very wrong with this man. Yet he wasn’t evil. Just
wrong
.

I resisted the urge to retreat and studied him as intently as he seemed to be studying me. He still had no facial features, but lank hair that seemed to merge with the shadows around us covered half his brow, and he was dressed casually in faded jeans and an Adidas sweater. For some reason, that struck me as odd. I hadn’t noticed his hair last time, let alone his clothes, and I suddenly wondered why I was doing so now.

Was it deliberate on his part? Because he certainly didn’t look comfortable in them.

You came
. His voice, as before, held little in the way of emotion, and yet I had an odd sense of amusement.

For the second time that day, I said,
It’s not like I had any other choice.

No, it is not. You, huntress, are the type determined to save. It is your failing
.

Perhaps
. The air continued to roll away from him, washing his darkness across me in fetid waves. I resisted the urge to step back, sensing I couldn’t afford to show any form of weakness to this man.

If a man he was.

Right now, I wasn’t so sure.

If I am the type to save, then what is your type? Because it wasn’t me hunting on these fields, stranger
.

He tilted his head sideways, and I had the sudden impression of a cat contemplating its prey.
I was not hunting when you found me. My prey had been well and truly ensnared by the time we arrived here
.

Why even hunt her in the first place? She was harmless—

No one who has the darkness within them is ever harmless,
he cut in forcefully. The buildings around us shimmered, as if caught in a blast of heated air.
She had to die. They
all
have to die.

I had a vague suspicion that if he’d had features I’d be seeing the glow of madness in his eyes right now.
But why? Because you say so? Or is there an actual reason behind this madness?

There are always reasons. In this case, they are good ones. But they’re not ones I wish to share just yet
.

Meaning he intended to string me along just like he was the Directorate.
So what has any of this got to do with me?

Ah,
he said, and once again his voice was even, without inflection or emotion. It was weird—almost as if he flowed between humanity and not.
The speed with which you found dear Dorothy impressed me. I thought it might be interesting if we had a little challenge.

What is the point of another challenge if you’re only going to kill your victims anyway?

What if I were to offer a guarantee that I would not kill my next victims until their allotted time?

Why would I trust a man who can’t keep his word? A man too scared to reveal his face or share his name?

Just for a second, the vibration in the air halted, and I had an odd sensation of everything around me freezing—as if the astral plane itself held its breath. Then that moment passed, and the vibrations rolled on, little maggots of energy that crawled across my skin.

I cannot show what I cannot see. As for my name . . .
His voice lowered, forcing me to lean forward a little to hear him.

But rather than continue, his hand shot out, something I felt rather than saw. I pulled back, Amaya instantly in my hands, an action that was more reflex than any spoken desire on my part. His fingers hit her blade rather than me, and his skin split. Blood flowed, though it was black rather than red. Purple fire leapt from the blade to his hand, and he jumped back, shaking his fingers in an attempt to rid his fingers of flames.