Darkness Unbound (Dark Angels 1)

He studied me, and for the first time I noticed the hint of stubble around his chin. It made his face less perfect, and yet somehow more appealing.

I blinked. A reaper appealing? Someone obviously needed to knock some sense back into me.

“Cannot,” he said, eventually, “because I do not know who or what is responsible. But we will endeavor to find out.”

I paused. “We?”

“The Mijai.”

“The what?”

“Mijai,” he repeated. “We are the dark angels, the soldiers.”

“Hence the sword.” And the winged tattoo. “But why would reapers need soldiers? Especially since reapers don’t take unwilling souls?”

“Because, as I said, there are other things that do. The Mijai are responsible for stopping such thefts.”

And for a whole lot more, I was betting. “Meaning someone screwed up big time when it came to that little girl.” I paused, taking another sip of Coke. “So is that why you were following me? Was I a suspect?”

“How could I suspect you when I didn’t even know the soul had been stolen?”

“Then why were you following me?”

He hesitated and leaned back in his chair. If the sword across his back was giving him any discomfort, he certainly wasn’t showing it. In fact, it almost seemed an extension of his flesh—a metallic limb, of sorts.

“Where did you get that necklace?” he countered.

I blinked and automatically knew he wasn’t talking about Ilianna’s charm, but rather the gold filigree droplet I wore around my neck. It was shaped like two wings, and very much represented my heritage.

“It was my father’s.” Apparently, he’d given it to my mom the night of my conception, and Mom had passed it on to me when I was old enough to start asking questions.

“Indeed,” he said, and I had the distinct feeling it was information he already knew. “When?”

“Twenty-eight years ago.”

He raised an eyebrow. “That is your age, yes?”

“Why is my age important?”

“It isn’t. I just want to talk to your father.”

I nearly choked on my Coke. I coughed for several seconds—while he watched dispassionately—then somehow managed to say, “Well, I wish you luck with that.”

“So you’re saying you’ve had no contact with him recently?”

I swallowed a hiccup, then said, “I’ve had no contact with my father my entire life. He might have provided the seed that formed me, but that was his entire input.”

“And yet he is apparently here in Melbourne.”

“Well, if you know that, then you know a hell of a lot more about him than I do.”

I didn’t even know what he looked like, other than the fact that he had violet eyes and silvery blond hair, just like me. Of course, Mom’s hair was also a silvery blond, but neither that nor the blue of her eyes was natural. As a Helki werewolf, she could subtly alter her appearance, and the silver and blue not only suited her psychic business better, but also enabled her to use her true form when she didn’t want to be noticed.

Admittedly, she had tried to answer my questions about my dad, but the truth was, I was the result of a one-night stand, and Mom’s entire time with him had totaled little more than six hours. Hardly long enough to form any lasting impressions.

I studied the reaper for a moment, wondering if he was telling the truth, then wondering what he’d have to gain by lying, and added, “Why do you think my father would even bother contacting me after all these years?”

“He has come to Melbourne for a reason. We believe you might be that reason.” He shrugged—a small, economical movement.