Darkness Hunts (Dark Angels 4)

He pointed down the road, to the right. “It appears to be located near the containers behind that warehouse.”

The warehouse in question was big, old, and had been in disuse for some time if the state of the place was anything to go by. The remnants of the sign over the main entrance said HARTWELL SHIPPING in what must once have been bold red lettering.

“This is definitely the place.”

“It would seem so.”

We hurried toward the entrance. My shoes clicked noisily on the road surface and the sound seemed to echo across the odd hush that held the immediate area. It was almost as if the old buildings around us were holding their collective breath, waiting for something dramatic to happen. Trepidation continued to crawl across my skin, and I slowed.

“What?” Azriel said immediately.

“I don’t know.”

The nearby cyclone fence was topped with razor wire, which seemed a little extreme given the state of the entire area. It wasn’t like there was a lot here beyond rusting remnants, but maybe they were simply left over from the days when this was a thriving business park. There didn’t seem to be any other security measures present, either. And yet something about the place still felt off.

I heard a slight tick-tick, and walked closer to the fence. A piece of razor wire had been cut and swayed regularly in time to the breeze, and every time it touched the fence, it ticked. The damn fence was electrified. I walked down to the main gate. It was similarly protected.

“The gate doesn’t provide much of a barrier for the likes of us,” Azriel commented.

He touched my arm and drew me lightly toward him again, but this time I resisted. “Thanks, but I’ll get in there under my own steam.”

“I do not mind—”

“Yeah, but I do.” I wrapped my fingers around my purse and phone—they wouldn’t change unless there was skin-on-skin contact. “Especially if you’re going to keep using those moments to steal kisses.”

“That was wrong of me—”

“Yes, it was,” I cut in, then closed my eyes and called to the Aedh within. I was still pushing my limits strength-wise, and this was really the last thing I needed to do. But I wasn’t about to keep relying on Azriel to zap us around. Enough was enough. If he wanted distance, he was damn well going to get it.

The heat and energy that was my Aedh half surged with the defiant thought, numbing pain and dulling sensation as it invaded every muscle, every cell, breaking them down and tearing them apart, until my flesh no longer existed and I became one with the air. Until I held no substance, no form, and could not be seen or heard or felt by anyone or anything who wasn’t reaper or Aedh.

I swept in under the gate and headed toward the back of the warehouse building. Even though I had no flesh in Aedh form, I felt heavy and movement was slow. It was just as well I didn’t have far to go, because I wasn’t going to be able to hold this form for long.

I’d barely reached the rear of the warehouse when my energy gave out and I hit the ground with an undignified splat. I stayed there for several minutes, my head booming and my breath a harsh rasp that burned my throat. Azriel, wise person that he was, didn’t say a word, although he was standing so close that the heat of him washed over me, chasing the worst of the tremors away.

I took a deep, somewhat shuddery breath, then released my grip on my purse and phone and climbed slowly to my feet. The world did a couple of mad turns, then settled. I swept the sweaty strands of hair from my forehead and, with some determination, walked on.

Azriel followed closely. I had a suspicion he was ready to catch me should I fall—a distinct possibility considering how shaky my legs still felt.

My gaze swept the old building as we neared the rear entrance. It was covered in grime, and there were cracked and broken windows along its entire length, but the roof—or the bits I’d seen of it—seemed in far better condition than what I’d expected. Once again I couldn’t escape the notion that someone was using this place—and that there would be more than just electrified fencing waiting if we dared go inside.

Something I really didn’t want to do.

“There is no need,” Azriel commented. “The magic comes not from within the building, but from a container over to our left. This way.”

I followed him through the maze of rusted and rotting containers, although my strides were a whole lot less elegant and assured. In fact, I was amazed I was even still walking, given how crappy I felt.

“And it still feels like the magic you sensed when we found Dorothy?”

“Yes.”

“But he’s not there?” I knew he wasn’t, because otherwise Azriel would have mentioned it, but I still had to ask. After all, we were dealing with a man who was apparently capable not only of leaving his body to attack his foe, but also of transporting spells and god only knows what other type of magic. And Azriel could be stopped by magic, though I doubted our killer would have that sort of knowledge, let alone have ever come across someone like our Mijai before now.

“No, he is not. The magic resonates from the blue container up ahead.” He came to a halt. “It prevents me from reading what lies within it.”

“So much for me thinking our killer didn’t have the necessary knowledge to stop you.” I stopped beside him. It was tempting to lean against him and let the warmth and strength of him chase away the worst of the aches—if only for a moment—but I resisted. Give him what he wants, I reminded myself fiercely. Even if it was the last thing in this world that I wanted.

“It is not designed specifically against me. It appears more tuned to stopping anyone sensing what lies inside.”