Darkness Hunts (Dark Angels 4)

“No, because this body is not real.”

“It damn well feels real when I touch you.” And it had certainly felt real when we’d made love. “Besides, you said you can find death in this form, so how can it not be real?”

“I bleed, and I can die in this form, true, but my being is energy, not flesh and blood.” He hesitated, frowning a little. “That place would not react to you, either, if you were in Aedh form. Neither their technology nor their magic is attuned to what you and I are.”

I frowned. “They’re obviously aware of both reapers and Aedh, so why wouldn’t they have some line of defense against either of you?”

“Because reapers interact with humans only on a soul-collecting basis, and why would anyone want to stop that?”

“But Aedh—”

“Have a long history of ignoring humanity, except when it comes to their own needs—procreation, for instance,” he said. “There is no major need for the Directorate to protect themselves against us, and they are well aware of that fact.”

Which meant Lucian could have followed us into the building, if he’d wished. Though why that particular thought occurred to me I have no idea. And it wasn’t like he could lurk in Aedh form anywhere nearby without Azriel being aware of him.

“So what if this person we’re chasing is also not flesh-based?”

“He cannot be energy, as that would make him either Aedh or reaper. And no reaper can interact with those on the astral plane.”

“That still leaves the possibility of another Aedh.”

“Aedh have no need to use magic to transport themselves to and from locations. This killer did.”

I grunted. I’d forgotten about that. “So what we need to do is uncover who in Melbourne sells powerful transport charms. It’s something either the Brindle or Jak will know or can find out.”

“What of Ilianna? And do you not think the Directorate would be already chasing that possibility?”

“I’ve involved Ilianna in enough dangerous shit already. She doesn’t need this as well.” I shrugged. “And the Directorate probably have investigated such an angle, but it doesn’t hurt to ask the Brindle witches.”

“Then why even bother with Jak?”

“Because I’ve got to meet him anyway, so it won’t hurt.” I eyed Azriel for a moment. “Has Jak suddenly become a problem for you?”

“No. I just think you risk his well-being needlessly.”

“He’s only going to ask around about charms, Azriel. I’d hardly call that dangerous.”

He didn’t say anything immediately, but then, he didn’t need to. His disapproval stung the air. “And after this meeting, you will rest?”

“Yes.” If nothing else came up, that was.

“Good. Because if you do not, I will be forced to make you.”

“Try it, and I really will get nasty—” But I was speaking to air. He’d disappeared again.

* * *

Even though the bar was crowded with lunchtime patrons, Jak Talbott was easy enough to spot. It wasn’t that he towered above everyone else, because at five ten, he was pretty much the average height for male werewolves. It was more that he exuded a raw masculinity that drew the eye. Or maybe it just seemed that way to me because I still wasn’t entirely over the damn man, no matter how much I tried to convince myself otherwise.

He actually wasn’t what I’d call handsome, but his rough-hewn features were easy on the eye and his body was well toned without being too muscular. His hair, like his skin, was a rich black, although there was a lot more silver glinting in the shaggy thickness of it these days. It gave him a genteel edge, which was something Jak would never be able to claim otherwise.

He leaned back in the chair as I approached, but his smile of greeting faded as his gaze swept me. “Damn it, Ris, you look worse every time I see you.”

“Thanks.” My voice was dry as I pulled out a chair and sat down opposite him. “You’re looking swell, too.”

He laughed. It was a warm, carefree sound, and the deep-down part of me that wouldn’t entirely let go of the past, and this man, sighed wistfully.

“Yeah, lack of sleep does that to me,” he said, a little too cheerfully. He obviously had news of some kind that he was excited about. “What’s your excuse?”