Darkness Rising: The Dark Angel Series: Book Two (9 page)

“Because we haven’t seen another Razan for weeks. I told you, we’ve been stationed here.”

So how did the note get into the locker? “What about an Aedh?”

He snorted softly. “An Aedh doing his own dirty work?
That’s
likely.”

For a man who was all but a slave to an Aedh, he was pretty damn critical of them. “Do you have a contact number for this new handler of yours?”

He nodded as well as he could with my hand pressed against his throat. “On my phone, in my top pocket.”

I reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out his cell
phone, and shoved it into mine. “What name is your handler under?”

“Handberry. I figured it was as good as any.”

Fair enough, I thought, and then hit him, as hard as I could, with my free hand, knocking him out. Then I let him drop to the floor.

For several seconds I did nothing more than stand there staring at him, my fists clenched and body shaking. Then, gradually, the rage eased and I dropped down beside him, hugging my knees to my chest as I squeezed my eyes shut and fought the urge to cry.

Goddamn it, what had just happened?

Warmth surrounded me, then strong hands caught mine and squeezed them gently. “Risa,” Azriel said softly. “Look at me.”

I didn’t want to. I really didn’t, but there was a note of command in his voice that I couldn’t ignore. I opened my eyes and stared into the blue of his. Saw the understanding there, the compassion.

It shook me almost as much as the rage.

“The events of the last few months have not only threatened your physical well-being,” he said softly, “but also damaged your emotional safety and security. It is natural that, sooner or later, you will experience trauma-induced incidents such as this.”

“But I was moving on, I was
coping.
Why would the rage hit
now
and not before, when it all first happened?”

“Because you did not seek help for—or even talk about—the events. You bottled it up inside and forced yourself to go on as normal—”

“But I
didn’t.
I was useless to everyone for weeks—”

He squeezed my hands again, his gaze searching
mine—and, I suspected, seeing far more than anyone else ever had. “That was grief, and natural given what had happened. But we are connected through our chi, and I know the fury, self-loathing, and uselessness that burn inside you, even now.”

Tears tracked their way down my cheeks, cold against my skin. I didn’t dispute his words, though. How could I, when they were true?

I hadn’t dealt with the anger at
all.
I’d merely pushed it down, pushed it away, and tried to function as normally as I could.

“The rage had no outlet until these men—who may or may not be involved with your mother’s killer—reentered your life.” He released one hand and touched my cheek lightly, and I closed my eyes against the compassion in his eyes and the sense of caring in his touch.

He was a reaper. He
couldn’t
care.

It was dangerous to even think that, because he was only here for the same reason as everyone else—to find my father.

“Yes,” he agreed softly, “but that doesn’t mean I don’t understand what you are going through, or sympathize with the rage. I have felt such rage myself.”

I opened my eyes again. “But you’re a reaper—”

“I’m a Mijai,” he corrected. “And as a warrior, I have experienced more than my fair share of loss.”

My gaze searched his. “Someone close to you?”

“A friend,” he said, then released my hand and rose.

The compassion and understanding disappeared in an instant, and I knew I’d get little more out of him.
But that didn’t stop me from asking, “So what did you do?”

He raised an eyebrow. “I did exactly what you are attempting. I tracked down and killed those responsible.”

“And did it make anything any better? Did it make
you
feel any better?”

His mouth twisted bitterly. “No. But at least I could rest easier with the knowledge that they would not be able to destroy anyone else.”

And that’s what I wanted. While it was undoubtedly true that I wanted vengeance so badly I could almost taste it, I also wanted to stop these people from doing to someone else what they’d done to my mom.

He studied me for a heartbeat, then said, “You’re bleeding.”

As if his words were a trigger, the pain hit, rolling through me in heated waves. I unzipped my coat and peeled it away from my side. The shirt underneath was torn and covered in blood, but the wound itself wasn’t really that deep. It hurt like a bitch, but then shallow wounds were often more painful than the deep ones.

“That is a debatable point,” Azriel commented.

“You’ve obviously never experienced a paper cut.” I pulled off the remnants of my shirt and used the unbloodied bits to stanch the wounds. There were benefits to being half wolf, but quick healing was one of those things I didn’t quite get enough of. I healed much faster than a human, but my inability to shift into wolf shape meant I couldn’t get the almost instantaneous restoration that most wolves enjoyed.

“Why do you not heal yourself in Aedh form?” Azriel said.

I wrinkled my nose and zipped my jacket back up. “Shifting into Aedh saps my strength badly, so I can imagine what trying to heal myself while changing form would do.”

“So you’ve never actually tried?”

“I’ve never even really thought about it.”

There was censure in Azriel’s gaze, but he simply nodded toward the panther. “Are you going to call the Directorate about these two?”

“So you did run interference with the other one?”

“Yes. He had an unfortunate collision with a fist.”

He said it so matter-of-factly that I actually stared at him for several seconds, wondering if I’d heard him right. But then his lips twitched, ever so slightly, and amusement bubbled through me—although I had a suspicion if I let it loose, it might hold a slightly hysterical edge.

“Wasn’t there some sort of reaper rule that said you couldn’t interfere in matters of the flesh?”

“No, I said I couldn’t dispense
justice
to those wearing flesh unless they stepped into the realms of the gray fields, as the witch had. Which does not preclude the possibility of interaction with humans should the need arise.”

“Well, I’m glad you decided to step in. I’m not really sure I could have coped with two of them myself.”

He nodded in acknowledgment, then said, “I will guard the door and keep people out while you phone your uncle.”

I watched him walk away, my gaze dropping from
the broadness of his shoulders to the stylized tattoos decorating his well-defined back. While the biggest of these was the Dušan, there were others. One was rose-like, another like an eye with a comet tail, and still others nothing more than random swirls. They were his tribal signatures, apparently, although I had no idea what that meant.

And I wasn’t likely to find out anytime soon, I thought wryly, as I pushed to my knees and leaned over to feel the cat shifter’s pulse.

It was steady enough, meaning I couldn’t have done too much damage. I got my phone out, hit the
VID-SCREEN
button, and said, “Uncle Rhoan.”

The screen went into psychedelic mode as the voice-recognition program swung into gear and dialed Rhoan’s number. A couple of seconds later, he appeared. “Hey, Ris,” he said, the corners of his gray eyes crinkling with warmth as he smiled. “How are you this morning?”

“Not as good as you, by the looks of it.”

He laughed. “Liana and Ronan are home from the academy for the weekend. It’s just nice to have the whole family in one place again.”

Lianna and Ronan were the eldest of the Jenson children and had—against Riley’s wishes—enlisted in the Victorian Police Force. “They’re nearing graduation soon, aren’t they?”

From what they’d told me, the course ran for about six weeks; after that, there was a two-year probationary period.

“Yeah, only a couple of weeks to go. Riley’s trying to convince them to go for a country posting. She reckons it will be safer.”

I grinned. “Bad guys do make it into the country, you know.”

“I know, but convincing her is another matter. What can I do for you, my sweet?”

“Well,” I said, my smile fading a little, “you know those half-shifters that attacked me once before?”

His whole demeanor changed in an instant. Gone was the man I knew and loved. The countenance now on the screen was one of the best guardians the Directorate had ever produced.

“They’ve attacked again?”

“The other two have, yeah. They’re both unconscious at the moment, but if you could get some help down here, I’d appreciate it.”

“Where are you?”

I told him, and he nodded. “I’ll be down in ten.”

“Wait—”

He didn’t, just clicked off. I swore softly. Riley was going to kill me. She didn’t often have her entire family together for a weekend, and now I had to go spoil things by calling Rhoan away.

Although, to be fair, she’d always considered me part of her extended pack, and she would have killed me if I’d called anyone else.

A steady stream of curses began flowing from the far side of the lockers. Obviously, the other shifter was now awake. I checked the panther’s pulse again, then rose, wincing a little and holding my side as I walked around to the back of the lockers. The second shifter lay on his stomach, and his hands and feet hog-tied behind his back. The rope used to bind him was nothing I’d ever seen before. It looked ethereal,
as if it had been pulled from the gray fields themselves.

He twisted his head around and glared up at me. “This is fucking uncomfortable!”

“Good,” I said, a little amused that he’d actually think I’d care. “Who sent you?”

I’d already had the answer from the panther, but it never hurt to double check.

“What’s in it for me if I tell you?”

“I’ll consider releasing you before the Directorate gets here. Now answer the question.”

He studied me for a moment, obviously weighing his options.

“Handberry,” he said eventually. “Or whoever it is that has taken his place.”

“Does that mean someone has taken over ownership of the Phoenix?” The Phoenix was a downmarket bar situated on a street that just happened to be at the intersection of several major ley lines. We’d all but stopped the consortium that had been attempting—through any means necessary—to buy all the properties along the street in an effort to control the ley-intersection, but not all of the consortium’s owners had been caught.

“Like I fucking know
or
care,” he said. “Handberry was just using the Phoenix as a base of operations, as far as I knew. I doubt this new guy will even go near the place. He sounds way too posh for that.”

Posh or not, that didn’t preclude the possibility that he was there. It was certainly worth checking. “And you’ve never seen the new handler?”

“Nah, he always has his vid-screen off, and we’ve never met him in person.”

“And you don’t find this strange? I mean, Handberry worked alongside you, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, but Handberry was one of us.”

“Meaning a Razan, or a human twisted by magic?”

“Both.”

“So which Aedh do you belong to?”

Something flickered in his eyes. “I can’t say.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Can’t,” he said. “The information was burned away when the magic happened.”

And
that
sounded a little too convenient. “So who gave you the ability to shift shape?”

He shrugged. “We weren’t allowed to see the practitioner.”

I raised an eyebrow. “And how, pray tell, did they achieve that miracle?”

“We were knocked out. Apparently it would have been too painful otherwise.”

Well, given the fact that the magic had twisted their beings at a cellular level, I’d guess that was something of an understatement. It was pointless asking where and when—apparently one of the benefits of being a Razan was a very long life, and though these men looked to be little more than midthirties, they could have been hundreds of years old. And I doubted the shifting ability was new. They were too good at controlling it for it to be a recent event.

Although it seemed odd that these Razan wouldn’t have a stronger connection to their masters than just a telephone number.

But maybe the Razan ranks had levels. Maybe it was only the ones like Handberry who had a direct
connection to their master. Maybe the grunts were kept ignorant for safety reasons.

“There’s nothing else you can tell me about the ceremony or the people who performed it?”

“It was a man. Other than that, your guess is as good as mine. How about releasing me now? My arms are going fucking numb.”

“Can’t say I’m sorry about that, considering what you were intending to do to me.” I swung around and left.

“Hey,” he shouted after me. “You said you’d release me before the Directorate got here!”