Darkness Devours (Dark Angels 3)

The relief that hit was so strong it left me shaking. Though there was no guarantee Amaya could protect me from whatever it was that waited in this darkness, with her in my hand I at least had a chance. And no matter how small that chance might be, it was better than nothing.

I opened both eyes and looked around. Or tried to, because my head wouldn’t move. In fact, nothing would move. I was all but frozen, able to breathe but little else.

Panic swelled again, but I tried to ignore it, tried to think. There had to be a way out of this—had to be! I wasn’t going to just lie here and allow the Rakshasa to tear me apart at her leisure. I might be frozen, but the mere fact that I was breathing suggested that either the poison in the Rakshasa’s claws hadn’t affected me as completely as it had her vampire victims or it was wearing off quickly.

I prayed it was the latter rather than the former. It would give me more of a chance—as long as the Rakshasa didn’t decide to eat me immediately now that I was awake. After all, she did seem to prefer to consume her victims when they were aware.

As my eyes began to adjust, I realized the darkness wasn’t as complete as I’d thought, thanks in part to the huge weights of stone that hung high above me. The stalactites gleamed with an odd, ghostly glow, and their light filtered through the surrounding ink, alluding to other outcroppings and hinting at fissures in the rock walls. Moisture gleamed and dripped, splashing onto the stony floor close to where I lay. It ran along the cracks and underneath my body, the chill of it contrasting sharply with the warmer moisture saturating my back. One of my wounds had obviously opened, even if the scent of it didn’t sting the air.

But there was more than just stone and fissures here. There were shadows—shadows that were as still as the stone and humanoid in shape.

My heart began to beat a whole lot faster.>Azriel shook his head. “The vampire, however, will sense your presence in this room, so you cannot remain here.”

I frowned. “I’m supposed to bring the Rakshasa down, not you.”

He smiled and drew Valdis. She glowed with a fierceness that lit the sparse room. “The end result will be the same. Besides, how is the council to know who actually killed the creature? We don’t have our follower when we shift via the fields, remember.”

That was true. I bit my lip, but for once did the sensible thing—if only because I really didn’t have the skill, the knowledge, or the desire to actually fight a spirit creature. “Is there an apartment nearby where I can wait?”

He hesitated, then nodded. “The room across the hall has no one in it.”

“That’s where I’ll wait.” I half turned, then hesitated. “Be careful, Azriel. Enough blood has been spilled already tonight.”

He smiled, suddenly closer even though I hadn’t seen him move. “I have Valdis, and I am well used to dealing with dark creatures.” He raised a hand and cupped my cheek. “But I appreciate the concern.”

Then he kissed me. It was little more than lips brushing, but it resonated through every part of my being, stirring me in ways I couldn’t even begin to describe.

“Go,” he said eventually, his voice tight. As if he’d been as affected as I was.

I forced myself to move away, although all I really wanted to do was step into his arms and chase the promise in that kiss.

I closed the door behind me, but hesitated in the hallway, listening to the silence and drawing in the air, trying to get a feel for who or what lived in this complex. I had no idea what Azriel’s net would do, but the last thing we needed was one of Jerry’s neighbors deciding to run to the rescue. Though to be honest, it looked like the sort of complex where the inhabitants were more likely to help themselves than one another.

The air out here was as unpleasant as it was in Jerry’s room. The aromas of booze, age, and urine were entrenched, as were the threads of unwashed humanity. If there were other non-humans in this complex, they didn’t live on this floor. I couldn’t hear much in the way of activity in any of the nearby rooms, either, but that could have been a result of the late hour rather than no one being home.

Which meant, hopefully, I could break into the room opposite and no one would notice. Or care. I did just that, and caught the door with my fingertips before it could crash back against the wall. I stood there for several heartbeats, my breath caught in my throat as I listened for any sign that someone had heard and intended to investigate.

No one did. I sighed in relief, then shut the door and turned to study the room. It was fresher—and cleaner—than Jerry’s, and possessed more in the way of furniture. The room’s inhabitant was obviously intent on making himself comfortable, whereas Jerry seemed only to have the basics. But then, the addicted rarely cared for anything other than their next hit.

I double-checked the bathroom and bedroom just to ensure that no one was here, then moved back to the kitchenette and propped myself against the small table. Despite the fact that the worst of my wounds had been sealed by the antiseptic spray, blood still trickled down my back. I wondered briefly if Jerry would smell it and decide to investigate. It would mess things up if he did.

After what seemed an eternity, the creak of floorboards and heavy—almost drunken—steps eventually began to invade the silence. They drew closer and closer, then paused just outside the doorway. Tension crawled through me. I held my breath, waiting for the moment when our plan went to hell and Jerry either ran or came at me.

For several seconds, nothing happened. I had the image of him standing there, nostrils flaring as he drew in the scent of blood and listened to the rapid beating of a heart. Mine, to be exact.

Whether he was actually doing that I couldn’t say, and after several minutes of inaction, his door creaked and he stepped inside.

I reached for Amaya, then stopped. Would the Rakshasa be able to sense her energy? I had no idea, so I left her sheathed. In this sort of situation, it was better to be safe than sorry. The decision, however, did not please my sword, and she hissed and grumbled in the back of my mind.

I padded across to the door and opened it slightly. There wasn’t anything to see in the hall or anything to hear in the room opposite. But as I stood there, an ill wind began to gather. It stirred the hairs on the back of my neck, making them stand on end. I shivered, my fists clenched so tightly against the need to draw my sword that my fingernails were digging into my palms. I might have felt stronger—safer—when she was in my hand, but the energy that dripped off her surely wouldn’t go unnoticed by a creature born to the world of spirits rather than flesh.

The wind gathered strength, filling the air with such darkness that it became harder and harder to breathe. And the desire to rush into the room opposite to see what was happening warred with the need to remain safe, but I knew I would only hinder rather than help. I had to let Azriel do what he’d been trained to do.

I opened the door a little farther. No sound came from the room opposite. Jerry might have entered, but he was no longer moving around. Maybe the poison the Rakshasa had administered when she’d slashed his back had taken full effect, and he simply lay there, waiting for the approach of his doom.

And it was certainly coming.

The sense of menace in the air was so sharp it felt like a knife cutting through my soul.