Darkness Devours (Dark Angels 3)

I shrugged. I didn’t know enough about magic to say whether it was possible or not, but there was definitely some force at work here—even if it was human based. Jak was right—the sequence of the murders very likely wasn’t a coincidence.

Awareness surged across my skin, and I twisted around. Azriel appeared with two men in tow. Both of them were pale and wide-eyed with terror. Obviously, the journey through the gray fields had shocked them.

He dropped them unceremoniously on the floor. They stayed where they fell, breathing but unmoving, meaning he’d restrained them in some way, even if the restraints weren’t visible.

His gaze moved from me to Jak. Do you wish me to render him unconscious?

No. I’ve told him about you. It’s easier. Out loud I added, “Did either of the men tell you anything?”

“They’re not men—they’re Razan.”

I blinked. That was something I hadn’t expected. Razan belonged to the Aedh—did that mean our face-shifter was either Aedh or in league with one?

“Can’t be,” I said automatically, even as instinct suggested it very likely was.

“Hate to interrupt,” Jak said dryly, “but what the hell is a Razan?”

“Basically, it’s the long-lived human slave of an Aedh,” I answered, almost absently. To Azriel, I added, “Are they wearing the tattoo?”

In reply, he leaned down and tore the shirt away from the back of one of his captives. Two tattoos were revealed—one of a dragon with two swords crossed above it and, on the right shoulder, a ring of barbed wire.

Confusion swirled through me, and I frowned. “That barbed-wire tat is the same one the rat-shifter saw on the fellow who’d paid him to deliver the note and the book from my father.”

“First,” Jak said, exasperation in his voice, “you really need to introduce me to the seminaked, sword-bearing reaper. And second, I thought you didn’t know your father.”

“I didn’t know my father until recently,” I said. “And Jak, meet Azriel.”

The two men nodded at each other. Azriel said, “The fact that these men are Razan suggests your father could be in league with our fake Nadler—if these men were sent here by Nadler, that is.”

“There’s no one else who would gain any benefit from the death of Logan, the photographer, and now his secretary, so it has to be Nadler.” I paused, chewing absently on my lip. “And it makes no sense for my father to be involved with someone like him. Even if he can no longer attain human form, he’s probably more powerful than any human could ever hope to be.”

Azriel nodded in agreement. “Even a human involved in dark magic who has control of a ley-line intersection would not be as powerful as your father.”

It should have been one hell of a scary thought, but maybe I was simply too damn tired and sore to feel any more scared than I already was. I rubbed my aching head wearily, and said, “None of this is making any sense, is it?”

“Especially not to me,” Jak muttered.

I gave him a half smile, but it faded quickly at the sound of approaching steps. I almost reached for Amaya, then relaxed as a voice said, “Risa, it’s Harris West from the Directorate of Other Races.”

“We’re in the kitchen,” I answered, a little surprised that Rhoan hadn’t come. But then, he was head guardian these days, and I guess I couldn’t always expect him to show up when I called.

But he’d still sent one of the daytime division’s best. While most vamps weren’t able to traverse the daylight hours, other nasties could, which meant these days the Directorate had a full complement of specialized non-humans in its ranks. From what Aunt Riley had told me, I knew that Harris wasn’t only a powerful werewolf; he was also an extremely strong telekinetic.

He appeared several seconds later, a tall, dark-haired man with handsome features. His eyes were the blue of the ocean, his shoulders broad, and his body lithe as a wolf. He scanned the room quickly, his gaze pausing on Azriel and briefly narrowing—which made me wonder just whom he saw—before finally coming to rest on me. “Up to your neck in it again, I see.”

“Afraid so. I gather Rhoan updated you on what has been going on?”

“Yes. He also suggested that I wring your scrawny neck,” he said in a wry voice. “But I’ll settle for an update.”

I gave it to him, suddenly grateful that Rhoan hadn’t shown up. Harris took statements from Jak and Azriel—although Azriel merely backed up what I’d already said—then, as the cleanup team arrived, told us to leave.

I helped Jak rise and we walked outside. I, for one, was more than a little relieved to have gotten off so lightly.

“What now?” Jak said, still cradling his bleeding arm.

I grimaced. “I’m going home to catch some sleep. I think you need to stop that arm from bleeding.”

“I meant case-wise.”