Darkness Hunts (Dark Angels 4)
Page 75
I took several gulps, felt the delicious fizz work its magic all the way down to my belly, then filled him in on all that had happened.
“Why in the hell would he want to play a cat-and-mouse game like this?” He tore open a protein bar and handed it to me.
“I don’t think he’s actually playing with a full deck, so who really knows.”
“Whoever this person is, he’s very adept at covering his tracks and keeping his identity secret—neither of which the insane tend to be.” He hesitated. “Can you tell us anything else about him personally?”
“Well, he had hair this time.” I frowned suddenly. “But oddly, it didn’t really have any color.”
“So it was gray?”
“No. There just wasn’t any color. It merged with the shadows, as if it were part of them. It was weird.”
“You know,” Elga said suddenly, “he could be blind.”
We both turned to look at her. “Why would you think that?” Rhoan asked.
“Well, if he was born blind, then he would have no understanding of color,” she explained. “Of course, the blind can be taught to associate certain levels of heat with specific colors through the use of various colored-light filters, but they will never know colors as the sighted see them.”>You came. His voice, as before, held little in the way of emotion, and yet I had an odd sense of amusement.
For the second time that day, I said, It’s not like I had any other choice.
No, it is not. You, huntress, are the type determined to save. It is your failing.
Perhaps. The air continued to roll away from him, washing his darkness across me in fetid waves. I resisted the urge to step back, sensing I couldn’t afford to show any form of weakness to this man.
If a man he was.
Right now, I wasn’t so sure.
If I am the type to save, then what is your type? Because it wasn’t me hunting on these fields, stranger.
He tilted his head sideways, and I had the sudden impression of a cat contemplating its prey. I was not hunting when you found me. My prey had been well and truly ensnared by the time we arrived here.
Why even hunt her in the first place? She was harmless—
No one who has the darkness within them is ever harmless, he cut in forcefully. The buildings around us shimmered, as if caught in a blast of heated air. She had to die. They all have to die.
I had a vague suspicion that if he’d had features I’d be seeing the glow of madness in his eyes right now. But why? Because you say so? Or is there an actual reason behind this madness?
There are always reasons. In this case, they are good ones. But they’re not ones I wish to share just yet.
Meaning he intended to string me along just like he was the Directorate. So what has any of this got to do with me?
Ah, he said, and once again his voice was even, without inflection or emotion. It was weird—almost as if he flowed between humanity and not. The speed with which you found dear Dorothy impressed me. I thought it might be interesting if we had a little challenge.
What is the point of another challenge if you’re only going to kill your victims anyway?
What if I were to offer a guarantee that I would not kill my next victims until their allotted time?
Why would I trust a man who can’t keep his word? A man too scared to reveal his face or share his name?
Just for a second, the vibration in the air halted, and I had an odd sensation of everything around me freezing—as if the astral plane itself held its breath. Then that moment passed, and the vibrations rolled on, little maggots of energy that crawled across my skin.
I cannot show what I cannot see. As for my name . . . His voice lowered, forcing me to lean forward a little to hear him.
But rather than continue, his hand shot out, something I felt rather than saw. I pulled back, Amaya instantly in my hands, an action that was more reflex than any spoken desire on my part. His fingers hit her blade rather than me, and his skin split. Blood flowed, though it was black rather than red. Purple fire leapt from the blade to his hand, and he jumped back, shaking his fingers in an attempt to rid his fingers of flames.
Amaya, release him.