Darkness Rising (Dark Angels 2)

“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—”