Darkness Hunts (Dark Angels 4)

“I’ll send you the address,” Rhoan said. “Meet me there in twenty minutes.”

“Will do.”

I hung up, then grabbed the last sandwich as I stood.

“To repeat myself, be careful,” Riley said, her expression concerned.

I smiled grimly. “As Azriel has already noted, I’ve lost more than enough blood for one day. I’m not intending to lose any more.”

“I don’t think it’s your intentions she’s concerned about,” Quinn noted.

I half smiled, then walked around the table, kissed them both, and said, “I’ll be fine. I won’t do anything stupid. I promise.”

And I hoped like hell it was a promise I could actually keep.

* * *

The address Rhoan sent me was for a small house in Campbellfield. It was off a busy main street, on one of those long blocks that had been subdivided years ago, with a second dwelling built at the back. That was the one we were interested in.

I sat on a brick fence on the opposite side of the road. The rumble of trucks and cars going past was so damn loud that the clatter of a helicopter overhead was almost lost to it. The air was an unpleasant mix of exhaust, rubber, and the various scents coming from the fast-food shops down the road, and my nose twitched against the need to sneeze.

I glanced at my watch. We still had a couple of minutes to wait, and frustration swirled through me. It was tempting—very tempting—to just head in myself, but I’d promised Riley to be careful and that wasn’t exactly careful-type behavior. Besides, I wasn’t at the top of my game right now—in fact, a gnat could probably overpower me with very little effort. I needed sleep, and I needed more food despite everything I’d already eaten. But most of all, I needed the bad guys to be sensible and give me a break.

And seeing as I couldn’t control them in any way, shape, or form, I guessed the sensible had to come from me.

I sighed wearily and leaned against Azriel’s shoulder. He didn’t move, didn’t react, didn’t wrap his arm around me and pull me closer, but the skin-on-skin contact was still oddly comforting.

“Is there anyone inside?” I asked eventually.

“A woman, a man, and a child in the first house. No one alive in the second.” Amusement warmed his otherwise formal tones as he added, “And before you ask, there’s no one dead, either.”

“So if this is the next victim’s address, he might already have her.”

“That is more than possible.”

I glanced left as a black Ford turned into the street. Rhoan. Given the Directorate plates, it couldn’t be anyone else.

The car slid to a halt in front of us. There were two men inside, but only Rhoan climbed out. He didn’t look happy.

The trepidation that had been up until now little more than a muted background buzz suddenly sharpened. I straightened. “What’s up?”

“This whole setup. He’s deviating from his previous MO and I’m not liking the possible reason.”

“You think it’s some sort of trap?”

“It can’t be anything else,” he growled. “We’ve done a quick background check on Vonda. She turned vamp about one hundred years ago, and has been leading a relatively low-profile life ever since. She works the night shift at the Ford vehicle factory in Broadmeadows and doesn’t socialize much.”

I frowned. “What about feeding? How does she cope with that if she doesn’t socialize much?”

He shrugged. “She probably uses synth blood. They’ve gotten better at manufacturing it in recent years.”

A fact he knew because his vampire half sometimes demanded blood, even if he didn’t have the teeth to go with the hunger. “So Vonda has nothing in common with the other victims?”

“Other than that she seems the least likely target for a serial killer, no.” He spun around and studied the houses on the opposite side of the road. “She lives with her sister, who also works at Ford. We had an infrared-equipped helicopter sweep the area a few moments ago. There’s three people in the first house, but no one is at home in our target house.”

He was half vampire and had infrared vision himself, so he didn’t really need the helicopter to tell him that. Maybe he just didn’t want to get too close to the house and spook our quarry—not that he was inside from the sound of it.>I cleared my throat, hoped I didn’t look as embarrassed as I felt, and said, “I’ll see you soon.”

He nodded, then melted into mist and disappeared. I shot Stane another quick note, asking him to add Mark Jackson to his search, and then Azriel’s arms were around me and we were whisking through the gray fields.