Darkness Devours (Dark Angels 3)

“Because this is the last place the Ania or the Raziq will think to look for us,” Azriel said.

He shifted his grip and guided me down onto a chair. Which was a smart move, because if he’d simply let go I think I would have fallen. My legs were like jelly and my whole body was shaking.

I looked around. Wherever we were, it didn’t actually look like a sewer. It actually resembled a small control room of some sort, filled with computers and what looked to be some kind of projector…

Memory stirred, and I suddenly realized that this was the control room where Ike Foreman had held me and questioned me about the keys for the portals of hell—although we still had no clear idea for whom he’d been working. He’d died in the sewer just beyond the main doorway, shot by Lucian. The image of Foreman’s face—and the surprise that had flitted across it a second before he died—rose, and I suddenly found myself wondering why he’d been so shocked. It wasn’t the fact that death had found him; of that I was sure.

“We’ll just be here long enough to stop this bleeding,” Azriel continued, drawing me out of my thoughts. But his attention was focused on the helmet that had saved me, and after a moment he unsheathed Valdis. “Stay still.”

I tightened my fingers around the arms of the chair, suddenly fighting the urge to flee. “What the hell are you intending to do?”

“Your helmet shattered when you hit the pole, and there are several pieces embedded in your head.”

Well, that would certainly explain the pain in my head and the blood on my cheek. “So just take them out and then remove the helmet. There’s no need to try to cut it off—”

“I suspect moving the shards will cause greater bleeding. Valdis will obliterate the shards and heal the wound at the same time.” He paused, and his gaze met mine. There was something unyielding in his eyes, almost as if he were drawing a line in the sand. “You said you trusted me.”

I licked my lips. “I do, but using Valdis to dig them out seems a little like using a jackhammer to hit home a nail.”

“Valdis would never harm you. She can’t.”

I raised my eyebrows at that. “Why not?”

His expression became closed again. “Do you trust me?”

That was a question I’d answered more than once. He was connected to me on a chi level—and far more strongly than he was admitting—and he knew just how much I did trust him, even if the occasional doubt raised its ugly head. I motioned for him to proceed.

Valdis’s fire was a strange green-gold as he brought her close. Droplets of fire splattered across my skin, hissing as they touched, yet not hurting. Warmth flushed upward from my neck and face, until even the ends of my hair felt like they were on fire. There was a brief retort, and a bitter smell—which was a mix of melting fiberglass and burning carbon fiber—filled the air.

Then it was gone, and with it the stabbing pain in the side of my head.

Azriel sheathed Valdis, then slowly—carefully—removed the helmet. The shards digging into my skull might have been eliminated, but it still hurt like shit. I blinked back tears, and gripped the chair arms so damn tightly that my fingernails tore into the leather.

“You were extremely lucky,” Azriel said, and held the helmet so I could see it.

The whole left side was broken, much of it dented inward toward what was now a jagged and somewhat melted hole in the center. It was destroyed—but it had undoubtedly saved my life.

My gaze rose and met Azriel’s. The anger that burned in the mismatched blue depths just about snatched my breath away. “The Ania could have killed me.”

“By mistake, yes, but if they’d actually wanted to kill you, they could have easily done so by now. And remember, it wasn’t so much an attack in the café as an attempt to capture you.” He tossed the helmet aside. It clattered against the old stones and rolled limply into the shadows. “It would also appear that changing your hair made little difference. They obviously know more about your habits than I presumed.”

I didn’t have the energy to say “I told you so,” and simply leaned back in the chair and closed my eyes. While the pain in my head had all but gone, the rest of me felt more than a little pulverized. But I guess feeling that way was better than actually being so, and that had very nearly been the reality.

“I can’t step away from everything and go into hiding, Azriel,” I said, after a moment. “That won’t find the Rakshasa and it certainly won’t find us the keys.”

“No, but staying away from the things they are aware of—like your bike, the café, and your apartment—would be a good start until we figure out a way to stop these attacks.”

I opened my eyes again. “Do you really think we can stop them? I don’t.”

“We can stop them.” He said it firmly, like he was trying to convince himself as much as me. Which was an odd thought, since he generally saw these things in black-and-white—will or won’t. “But until we do, we should do all that we can to avoid them.”>“You do not have to be there in the flesh.”

I frowned. “But you warned me against taking Aedh form too much because it might attract the wrong sort of attention.”

“It might, but if you do not want to physically wait at Dark Earth, then we are left with Aedh form or watching from the gray fields.”

“In the gray fields we’d at least have the Dušan to guard us.”

He nodded. “But the Raziq prowl there. There is a greater chance of discovery if we step onto the fields for any great length of time.”