Darkness Hunts (Dark Angels 4)

My mouth went suddenly dry. If the tracker was useless, did that mean I was as well? I swallowed heavily, and somehow said, “And here I was thinking the Aedh were clever enough to work out a way around that.”

He obviously didn’t catch the sarcasm in my voice. “That is without question. But your father is also Aedh—he will find a means to mute the transmitter.”

No doubt. “Then you’ll just have to work faster than him, won’t you?”

“Or develop a different way of drawing him to you.” He paused. “We will be in contact, Risa Jones.”

The threat hung in the air as the energy of their presence began to dissipate. Azriel wrenched his arm from my grip, then drew Valdis back and released her in one violent movement. The sword sang through the air, the sound fierce, joyous. She hit the fading remnants of the shimmer and there was a short, sharp explosion, accompanied by a shrill scream. Then there was no energy, no Raziq.

Only fury.

Valdis looped around and returned to her master. Azriel caught her one-handed, then swung to face me. His expression was as angry as I’d ever seen it.

“Do not ever do that again.” Though his voice was flat, every inch of him seemed to vibrate. Valdis’s steel wasn’t even visible, so dark were her flames.

And Amaya responded, her hissing fierce enough inside my head to make my eyes water. She was ready to protect, whether it be against foe or friend.

“Azriel—”

“I am here to protect you, not the other way around.”

“You would have died.” I sheathed Amaya—although it didn’t shut her up—and rubbed my arms. Not that it did much against the force still assaulting me or the chill that the mere thought of losing him sent through me.

“There is always the Aedh,” he practically spat. “You trust him so much, after all.”>An Aedh.

My father, to be precise.

Chapter 3

As the awareness of my father’s presence grew, so did the ache in my heart, until all I felt was pain, inside and out.

I doubled over, unable to do anything more than gasp. But it wasn’t a heart attack. It was something far more deadly—the transmitter the Raziq had placed in my heart, reacting to my father’s presence.

Calling the Raziq, telling them he was coming.

And I could barely even breathe, let alone give him any sort of warning.

An instant later, I was flung up against the lockers, my feet off the ground and a band of iron against my neck.

“What have you done?” The voice was a deeper, angrier version of mine, and it seemed to shake the foundations of the room around us. “What have you agreed to?”

I opened my mouth to answer, but no words came out because no air was getting in. Panic surged, and for a moment I wondered if he intended to kill me in sheer and utter rage.

Blue-edged steel appeared in my line of vision, the sword’s sharp point aimed at the heart of the fierce energy holding me captive.

“Tell us where we can find the keys,” Azriel said flatly. “Or die now.”

Deep inside me anger flared. For fuck’s sake, Azriel, I’m choking and in serious pain here, in case you didn’t notice!

He either didn’t hear me or didn’t care. Neither, apparently, did my father. The iron band of energy continued to squeeze my neck, and it felt like my lungs were about to burst. Tiny spots began to dance in front of my eyes.

“If you kill me, reaper, you will fail in your quest to capture the keys.”

There was no hurry in my father’s voice, no urgency. As the shadows of unconsciousness began to crowd close, I wondered where the hell the Raziq were. At least their arrival would break this uncaring tableau.

“As will everyone else who seeks them,” Azriel replied. “That is an outcome I could live with.”

It was an outcome I could live with, too. If I got to live, that was.