Darkness Devours (Dark Angels 3)

I drank some more water and glanced at my watch. Time seemed to be crawling by. I wasn’t sure what else to say to Azriel, so I made small talk with the woman sitting on my left, and picked at the various courses as they came and went.

Frank Logan finally made an appearance just as they started the fund-raising auction. He was a big man with dark hair, a roman nose, thin lips, and a sharp chin.

I leaned closer to Azriel and said, “Can you listen to his thoughts from here?”

“Maybe.” His expression was closed, giving little away. After several minutes, he said, “Someone has placed major barriers around his mind.”

I frowned. “But I thought the human mind was open to you to read, and that not even vampires could block you?”

“They can’t. And Logan isn’t a vampire.”

A point I was well aware of, so I didn’t bother reacting to it. “So how come his mind is blocked? Why can’t you get past it?”

“I didn’t say I couldn’t get past it, but the existence and strength of the barriers suggest whoever is behind them is well aware of just how a reaper operates.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Are the blocks aimed at reapers specifically? Because that would mean someone is aware that we’re targeting Logan.”

His gaze came to mine. “Yes.”

Shit. I took a deep breath, half listening to the auctioneer chattering on about the signed, framed football jumper they were auctioning. “Does that mean we’ve wasted our time tonight?”

“No. I can break the barrier, but not without one-on-one contact.”

“Meaning we have to catch him alone?”

“Yes.”

“That’s going to be hard at a function like this.”

He shrugged. “Not necessarily. Is it not human nature to want to visit the bathroom after a large intake of alcohol?”

I glanced across at Logan. He’d suddenly started guzzling beer like it was water. I met Azriel’s gaze again. It was as impassive as ever, but deep in those blue depths, amusement lurked. “Your doing?”

“His memories may have been blocked, but his control centers have not.”

I grinned. “Brilliant idea.”

“I do have them occasionally.”

I snorted softly. “And you’re modest to boot.”

“What is the truth is hardly modest.”

“But it also suggests you’ve had more than a few bad ideas.”

There was a flicker in his eyes that spoke of regret. “No Mijai is infallible. That is why we are dark angels.”

I half wondered what infallibility he was talking about, because I very much suspected it wasn’t the actions that had made him a Mijai.

The auction finished and music started up. Logan rose and—looking decidedly unsteady on his feet—grabbed the hand of the blonde sitting next to him and dragged her toward the dance floor.

“Do you think we should keep close to him?” I asked, half fearing the answer would be no, and yet—absurdly—also fearing a yes.

He wasn’t looking at me, but rather Logan. “It would be more advantageous if we were close. It will be easier to prevent others from following him into the bathroom.”

Damn. I took a deep breath and slowly released it. “Can you dance?”

He glanced at me. “If dancing requires little more than shuffling your feet from one side to the other, as many on that floor are currently doing, then yes.”