Darkness Hunts (Dark Angels 4)

Azriel reappeared behind Jak. “I cannot access the site, but whatever is within, it is not the intersection itself. It lies farther down the road.”

Jak jumped and swung around. “Fuck it, reaper, you could at least give some kind of warning before you pop into existence like that.” Then he frowned. “How the hell did you even know about the site?”

“He can read any mind he chooses to,” I explained, and switched my gaze to Azriel. “How come you can’t get in?”

“There are wards similar to the ones your father once used set around the warehouse. I cannot enter when they are in place.”

I frowned. “I wonder if the wards are set to repel all energy beings, or just reapers?”

“I cannot tell. The magic involved is beyond my understanding.”

Ilianna would no doubt be able to tell us what it was, but I wasn’t about to ask anything else of her unless it was absolutely necessary. She’d already placed herself in enough danger for this quest of mine. “We need to get into that warehouse to see what the wards are protecting.”

“I’m glad you said ‘we,’” Jak commented, “because you’re not going anywhere without me.”

I flicked my gaze to him. “Hellhounds are not something you want to tangle with.”

“Probably not, but this is my story, remember, and I’m damned if I’m going to be cut out of it.”

Do you wish me to tamper with his thoughts and send him home? Azriel asked.

I hesitated. No. I don’t want to go into that warehouse alone.

If there are hellhounds, you will be better off calling your uncle. Jak will be of little use—you endanger his life for little reason.

We can’t keep preventing him from taking risks. It’s neither fair nor right when he’s holding up his end of the deal.

Doing what is fair and right did not stop you from diverting him last time.

That was a different situation because the threat was direct and real. Only it was Logan who the killer had been hunting, not Jak, as we’d presumed. Besides, we won’t be heading there unarmed.

Naturally. Amaya is always with you.

I didn’t mean Amaya. While I had no doubt Amaya could handle hellhounds, I wasn’t about to walk into a possible confrontation with them without some form of backup. In this case, that was holy water.

I do not think this a wise course of action.

It isn’t like I have many other choices. I wasn’t going in alone, and if I called Rhoan, he’d cut me out of the investigation completely. Which meant I went either with Jak or with Lucian—and Azriel sure as hell wouldn’t want me going anywhere with him. But your disapproval has been duly noted.

And ignored, he said, mental tones flat. As you wish.

He disappeared again—an action that was really starting to piss me off.

Jak cleared his throat. “Why do I have this feeling that there’s a whole conversation going on that I know nothing about?”

“Because there is.” I waved a hand at his beer. “Finish that. We have to go see a witch about some holy water.”

* * *

Ilianna looked up from the magazine she was reading when I walked through the door of our home, but she jumped to her feet when she saw who was behind me, her expression suddenly furious.

Shit, I thought, as she muttered something under her breath and flicked a hand. I swore again and spun around—just in time to see Jak hit the floor face-first, then go slithering back toward the door. Which was shut. He grunted, then began to curse as his body plastered itself to the metal.

“Ilianna!” I spun back round to face her. “Let him go!”

“No,” she spat back, her green eyes practically dripping with fury. “I did warn him never to darken our door again or there’d be consequences.”

“I invited him here. Let him go.”