Darkness Hunts (DA 4) (19 page)

There was little else in the wallet except cash, so I placed the remaining cards on the stone, took a photo of both them and our stranger, and shot both off to Stane with a quick note to see what he could uncover.

“Well,” said Jak, “he’s only got a couple of numbers in his address book, and his last call came from a blocked number. I don’t suppose we can take the risk and call it back?”

“And let whoever is behind this know we have his Razan? Not a good idea.”

Jak flicked through other screens. “They’re going to know something went on, anyway. I mean, you knocked him out.”

“True.” I hesitated, awareness suddenly prickling across my senses.

And suddenly remembered the Razan’s last words.
Yes, I’ve released them.

I spun around. The stones’ circle was complete again, and its fading glow did little to light the immediate darkness. The pillars had fallen completely silent. There was no escape that way—not unless we could get the gate open again.

A low growl reverberated around the darkness, raising the hackles along the back of my neck.

“What the hell was that?” Jak’s voice was filled with trepidation as he studied the tunnel behind us.

“
That”
—I grabbed his hand and dragged him toward the northern end of the stones—“is a hellhound. We need to get out of here—fast!”

We reached the northern entrance and stopped. The runes didn’t react to our presence. They just continued to glow that same sickly color.

“Now what?” Jak’s voice was grim and there was fear in his eyes.

“I don’t know.”

I remembered the gesture the Razan had made when he’d reentered the cavern, and repeated it as best I could. Nothing happened. The runes continued to glow ominously.

Fuck, fuck,
fuck
!

The air began to stir, became a thick scent of malevolence. They were coming.

I grabbed one of the bottles from Ilianna’s satchel and popped the cork. It flew toward the still-glowing runes but never made it across them. There was a sharp report, a flash of fire, and the cork was little more than cinders falling harmlessly to the stone floor.

That would be us if we weren’t very careful.

The smell of death, decay, and ash began to fill the air. I licked dry lips and looked around wildly. There was no decent place to stand and fight. Our best bet was to try to keep them in the tunnel.

And the only way to do that was to use the holy water as some sort of barrier.

But I’d barely taken two steps when evil flowed into the room. The creatures were big, bigger than the ones I’d seen previously, their large heads held low and their red eyes glowing brightly in the shadowed darkness. Thick yellow teeth gleamed eerily as the pair of them snarled. The sound echoed like a death knell.

I flung the water at them.

It flew across the air like a silver ribbon, hitting the first one on the snout and splashing across the coat of the other, sizzling and bubbling where it struck.

The first hound twisted and howled as its face began to disintegrate. Flesh dropped from its cheeks in chunks, until all that was left was bone. Soon that began to crack and shatter, until nothing remained of that half of its face.

But it didn’t die. It was disfigured, but still very much alive.

It would be just my luck to get a stronger breed of hellhound this time around.

And then I remembered that Azriel had killed the hounds with his sword when they’d been distracted by the burning water.

I had no choice but to do this the hard way.

I switched Amaya to one hand and carefully reached for more holy water. Her
kill, kill, kill
chant was fierce and rapid, matching the pounding of my heart.

“Jak?” My voice was little more than a murmur, as I had no idea just what would set these creatures into motion. Right now, they didn’t seem to be doing anything more than watching us, but I doubted that would last. I suspected that once we moved, they would.

“What?”

Though I could smell the fear on him—as he could no doubt smell it on me—his voice was amazingly steady. But then, I guess he’d seen more than his fair share of dangerous beings in his years as an investigative reporter.

Just not
this
dangerous.

“Use the holy water to form a wide half circle around yourself, then press back against the wall.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Kill them.”

“Ris, if the holy water works as a barrier, why don’t we both just wait behind it?”

I carefully opened the bottle. The cork hit the dirt near my feet and bounced a little before settling. The hounds’ eyes gleamed a fiercer red in the darkness, and tension rippled across their sleek black hides. They were getting ready to pounce.

“Hellhounds have one design function, and that’s to kill. Holy water might work as a short-term deterrent, but it’s not strong enough to provide long-term protection.”

“It only has to last long enough for us to ring for help. Your uncle—”

“Will not get here in time. No one can. Hellhounds aren’t stupid, and they’re not going to wait around while we ring for help.”

“Oh.”

“Use the knife if a hound decides to ignore the holy water and attempts to get at you.” God, how did that come out so calmly when my stomach was twisted into knots and my hands were shaking? “And good luck.”

“Yeah, you, too.”

We were both going to need it. I took a deep breath and gripped Amaya tightly. Her desire to kill was so fierce it was almost blanketing, and suddenly not only was she in
my
head, but I was in
hers
. In the steel, at one with her.

I didn’t question it. I just threw the second bottle of holy water and followed it up fast. The creatures split, one flowing to the left of the runes and the other to the right. The silver ribbon of deadly water flew harmlessly between them, hit the wall, and dribbled down to the floor stones.

Shit,
I thought, and swung Amaya. Her steel was little more than a blur as she cut through the air. The hound snarled in response—an action made grotesque by the fact he had only half a face—and slashed with a viciously barbed paw. Claw and steel crashed together, the sound reverberating across a darkness that was no longer so silent. One of the creature’s claws hit the top of my hand, slicing skin even as Amaya’s flames leapt from steel to flesh and burned with fierce joy.

I jumped back and swung Amaya again. Blood sprayed across the ruined remains of the hound’s face, and the gleam in its eyes grew stronger. It ducked the blow, then leapt. I had no time to move and took the full brunt of its weight, staggering backward but somehow avoiding the snapping, slashing teeth. One of its claws hooked into my right shoulder, and a scream tore up my throat. I flung Amaya over its head, then caught her with my free hand and brought her down on the creature’s spine. The force of the blow reverberated up my arm, but it did little more than cut the hound’s flesh. She didn’t sever muscle or bone, as I’d hoped she would.

Will
, she screamed.
Time need!

And
that
was the one thing we didn’t have a whole lot of.

I clawed at the creature’s remaining eye. It snarled and shook its head, its breath fetid, washing my skin with the smell of death. The movement dislodged its claw from my shoulder and I fell backward with a grunt of pain. Energy washed across my spine and I realized with horror that I was near the runes. Then air stirred, and the scent of malevolence grew stronger. The hound was in the air, coming straight at me.

I became one with Amaya again—felt the fierceness of her spirit rush through me. We leapt to one side. One foot skimmed the edge of a rune and sent a warning ripple of sickly green light across the darkness. We raised the sword, brought her down hard. Hit the creature’s spine even as
it
hit the runes. The runes didn’t react, didn’t flare, didn’t cinder.

It didn’t matter.

This time, the combined strength of both Amaya and me drove the sword, and it burned and flamed swiftly through the hellhound’s flesh, cutting through skin and bone with the ease of butter.

The hound screamed as it flopped to the floor, but it still had movement. It dug its claws into the stone and dragged itself around, snapping at my legs with its remaining teeth. I leapt back—separated from Amaya’s spirit once again—then swung the satchel around, dragged out another bottle of holy water, and poured it over the creature from head to foot. The rancid smell of burning flesh filled the air as the creature twisted and howled in fury and pain. I raised Amaya again and brought her down—point first—with as much force as I could muster. This time she didn’t sever, she consumed. Purple flames erupted, swept swiftly across the hound’s hissing, disintegrating flesh, until there was no skin, no bone, no sound, just purple fire and the wretched smell of death. Then, with a sharp report, the flames and the hound were gone, and Amaya suddenly felt heavier in my hand.

Which didn’t mean she was in any way satisfied.

I swung around. Jak
had
created a protective ring using the water, but it wasn’t as secure as we’d hoped. It stopped the bulk of the creature, but it hadn’t stopped the creature’s slashing attacks with wicked-looking claws.

I spun and ran around the runes, coming up on the hellhound from behind. It sensed me—it was always going to, as I was making little effort to sneak and Amaya was screaming her heart out—and twisted and leapt in one smooth motion. I threw myself forward, turning as I fell, coming up under the creature as it flew above me. Amaya’s screaming was at fever pitch—wanting, needing bloodshed—so I gave it to her. I drove her blade into the creature’s belly and ripped her along its length. Blood and gore splattered across my face, stinking to high heaven and stinging like acid. These creatures may not be truly flesh, but god, when their innards spewed it damn well
felt
real.

“Jak, you okay?” I scrambled to my feet, Jak’s circle at my back and Amaya held out in front of me like a baton.

“No worse off than you—watch out!”

It wasn’t a warning I needed. The creature had barely hit the stone when it was in the air again. I threw the last bottle of holy water, but the hound somehow twisted, and the water hit trailing innards, not flesh. I swung the blade, slicing across the creature’s snout, then twisted out of its reach. It had barely smacked down on the stones when it leapt again. But as it did, Amaya and I once again became one. All her fury, all her energy and her vicious need to kill became mine, and I screamed as she screamed. Together, we severed the creature’s head clean from its neck even as it managed a last, desperate slash with its claws. I sucked in my gut, felt clothing and skin part, but little else, still held by the fury that was Amaya. As the hellhound hit the stone in separate parts, her fire leapt from the blade and covered both. In very little time, there was nothing left but ash.

I lowered Amaya’s point to the stone and leaned against her, suddenly weak with relief. We’d done it. Somehow, we’d beaten them.

All we had to do now was get out of here.

Jak’s hand slid around my waist as he leaned next to me. “You okay?”

I took a deep, somewhat quivery breath, and released it slowly. “Yeah. You?”

“Scratched, bleeding, and fucking glad to be alive.”

I smiled, as he no doubt intended, then straightened and stepped away from his touch. “I don’t think we can get out via these gates. I think we need to go back through the tunnel.”

“Then we’ll have to leave our prisoner. It’ll be next to impossible to drag him through it.”

I grimaced. “But we can’t afford to leave him. The last thing we want is him reporting back to his masters. At least if we get him upstairs, Azriel can alter—”

I stopped as once again awareness swept over me.

Someone else was in the tunnel, and they were coming our way.

Chapter 8

I half raised Amaya, then stopped as fear gave way to realization. It wasn’t a foe who walked toward us; it was a friend.

Uncle Quinn—Riley’s moon-sworn lover, and the half Aedh who’d taught me how to use my own Aedh skills—to be exact. He was also a former Cazador, and one of the few who not only survived the experience but walked away virtually unscarred. And that, to me, only emphasized just how deadly he could be.

It was a damn shame he hadn’t turned up five minutes earlier. He would have handled the hellhounds with one hand tied behind his back and very little bloodshed.

“Risa?” The muffled confines of the tunnel made it hard to judge how close he actually was, but the Irish lilt usually evident in his voice had all but disappeared—a sure sign he was ready for battle. “You okay?”

“Yes.” I sheathed Amaya.

“Then why do I smell blood?”

“I guess because I’m bleeding.”

“You guess? You, my dear, have been around Riley entirely too long.”

So people kept saying. “Which isn’t a bad thing when it taught me to survive situations like this.”

He squeezed out of the tunnel a damn sight more elegantly than either Jak or I had, and strode toward me. While no half-breed got the wings of the Aedh, many did inherit their mesmerizing looks, and Quinn was no exception. He was, in every way, angelic, from his beautiful face that was framed by night-dark hair to his well-toned body.

His dark gaze swept me, then moved on to Jak. What he thought of
his
presence I couldn’t say—Quinn was a very old vampire, and well practiced in keeping emotions contained.

Rather like Azriel, I thought absently.

“That may be the case, but she’s
not
going to be pleased that you not only failed to call in help but got wounded in the process.”

“It looks worse than it is,” I said, then remembered I was talking to a vampire. He’d know
exactly
how much blood I was losing. “And it’s not like you have to tell her.”

“As if
anyone
can hide secrets from that woman.” Undercurrents of amusement and love ran through the comment. He ripped the sleeve from his shirt, tore it into strips, then roughly bandaged my shoulder. “She already suspects the worst, given the rather frantic state your reaper was in when he appeared to fetch me here—”