Darkness Unbound (Dark Angels 1)

My gaze jumped to hers. “I wasn’t—”

“Not believing that, either,” she commented, voice wry but a smile on her lips. “Wait until Rhoan tracks down the car registrations. Then we can plot our next course of action.”

“As long as you promise to let me in on it.”

“I will.”

“Good.” I pushed to my feet. “In the meantime, I’ll talk to Mom.”

Though personally, I doubted it would help. Mom had never kept many secrets from me, and I’d certainly never sensed that she was holding back when it came to my father.

“Will you be at lunch on Thursday? We should know more by then, so we can plot over cake.”

And wouldn’t that please Mom. She might be best friends with Riley, but she’d be horrified to find me in any way involved in her more nefarious activities. Riley was retired as a guardian, but she was still a consultant for the Directorate, and she still got herself into some dangerous situations. Of course, this was me getting Riley involved rather than the other way around, but that wouldn’t stop Mom from worrying.

The sensible thing to do was not tell her at all, but it was almost impossible to keep secrets from a clairvoyant as strong as she was. I’d learned long ago it was simply easier to be up front about these things.

“Tell Darci I’ll clean her clothes and return them then.”

Riley waved a hand dismissively. “That child has more clothes than she knows what to do with. I’m betting she won’t even miss them.”

And I was betting she would. Cashmere was expensive, and this sweater didn’t look old. “If anything else happens, I’ll let you know.”

“Good.” She walked around the table and dropped a kiss on my cheek. “In the meantime, be careful.”

“I will.” I waved a good-bye to Liander, then headed out.

The fickle Melbourne weather was playing its usual tricks, and the rain had returned. I slipped on my jacket and gloves, then raced down the stairs and jumped on my bike. I didn’t get much farther because the phone chose that moment to ring.

The ring tone said it was Mom. “Hey,” I said. “I was just about to drive over—”

“Ris,” she cut in, her voice harried and more than a little stressed, “you need to get to Coppin Street as soon as possible.”

“Why the hell—”

“Just go,” she said, “or Ilianna will die.”

ILIANNA? DIE?

I didn’t ask for details—the urgency in Mom’s voice was enough to convince me. I hung up and rang Ilianna, hoping like hell she’d answer, that it wasn’t already too late. Mom might have told me to go, but I’d be stupid not to at least try the easy option.

But her phone was either off or out of range—which was no doubt why Mom had told me to go.

Swearing softly, I shoved on my helmet and fired up the bike. The gates were barely open before I was through them. I rocketed up the streets, weaving in and out of traffic, pushing both the bike and my skills to their limits as I ignored traffic signals and left more than a few angry drivers in my wake.

Ilianna was the sister I’d never had. I wouldn’t lose her. I couldn’t.

Fear twisted through my gut but I tried to ignore it, concentrating on the road, on finding the best way through the traffic, on not stopping for anyone or anything.

The gods must have been on my side, because not one cop made an appearance, though I had no doubt—given the number of red-light cameras I ran—that a raft of fines would soon be making their way to my mailbox.

I turned left onto Abinger Street, my knee so close to the tarmac that it scraped a hole in Darci’s jeans and took off a layer of skin. One replacement pair to be ordered, I thought absently, gunning the engine and speeding down the street. It seemed to take forever to reach the next street. I took a right, the tires all but screaming as they left a layer of rubber behind. I didn’t slow until I neared the small single-fronted terrace that served as Mike’s office.

I couldn’t see Ilianna’s car parked anywhere near, so she was either inside already or still on her way. We lived close enough to Mike’s to walk, and the frequent bouts of rain wouldn’t have deterred Ilianna. She liked getting wet—it soothed the wildness in her soul, apparently.

I glanced at my watch. Mike never ran anywhere close to his appointment times, so we’d fallen into the habit of arriving ten minutes later than he told us. The appointment was at two, and it was barely that now. Ilianna wouldn’t be in there yet.

If she was walking, then she’d more than likely be cutting through the Mary Street lane and strolling across the park.