Darkness Hunts (Dark Angels 4)

I flexed my fingers, but otherwise didn’t react as his slimy darkness began to twist itself around my ankles. It was nothing but shadows. Nothing to fear, despite appearances.

Taylor laughed. The sound grated across the stillness around us. I see you will not be rushed into foolish action, huntress. I’m glad.

Making you happy is not my intent, I replied, voice still despite the darkness creeping farther up my legs. Why don’t you give this game up, Taylor, and just turn yourself in?

And what? Avail myself of the Directorate’s mercy? We both know there is no such thing for someone like me. No, I prefer to play the game my way. At least then I am surer of a favorable result.

Then let the game begin, I said, and called Amaya.

She appeared in a blaze of furious lilac fire, eager to taste flesh, be it real or astral. I swung her across my legs, severing the darkness that clung to me. Her flames dripped onto Taylor’s long shadow and raced back down its length, but they never reached his body, stopping abruptly several feet away.

Come, huntress, he said, his tone mocking. You can do better than that.

All I intended was to release your leash, I said. This is your game, Taylor, not mine. I think the first shot should be yours.

As you wish, he said, then disappeared.

I’d half hoped he would make an all-out frontal assault, but it was obvious the bastard was going to make this battle long and slow. Which didn’t mean I had to play it that way.

I closed my eyes and imagined myself standing next to him. Though there was little sensation of movement, I suddenly found myself at the far end of the beach. Taylor’s footprints marred the white sand, but Taylor himself was nowhere to be seen.

I frowned and half turned, my gaze searching the emptiness around me. There was nothing—nothing except the sensation of air recoiling. It wasn’t from Taylor, but rather from something else. Something that was approaching really fast.

Then I remembered that Taylor could alter the way I saw the astral plane.

I ducked and flung Amaya upward. She connected with something so hard the force of it reverberated down my arm and made imaginary teeth rattle.

White ash, she screamed. Hate!

White ash was used by witches to repel all manner of darkness, demons included—which meant that Taylor knew what my sword was.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

I dropped her away from the invisible ash staff and scrambled backward. Taylor laughed, an eerie sound that came out of the emptiness surrounding me.

I didn’t bother hanging around to see what he was going to do next, but lunged forward, using the tremor of recoiling air as a guide as I attempted to slice him in half. Azriel might have said it wasn’t actually possible to do that on this level of the astral plane, but I had hurt him last time I’d called Amaya into action, so it was worth a shot.

It was a shot that proved futile, because her blade hit nothing but air. I paused, Amaya held at the ready, my gaze searching the immediate area as I tried yet again to pinpoint his position.

And in doing so, I realized the beach was different. It was fading. Or rather, a fog was devouring it—the same sort of fog that had greeted me when I’d first stepped onto the plane. But why? What advantage did it give him when I couldn’t see him now under the fierce sunshine I’d imagined?

The thought died as awareness prickled my skin.

He was behind me.

I raised Amaya and spun around. Caught a glimpse of Taylor’s wickedly pointed staff swooping toward me before the fog whisked him from sight. I lunged forward, under his blow, attempting to skewer him with Amaya’s point. Once again I stabbed nothing but air. I swore and caught my balance. Felt the wash of movement against my skin and jumped back.

But nowhere near fast enough.

Taylor’s staff whacked my left arm with such force that it knocked me sideways. The pain of the blow reverberated through every fiber, as sharp and as real as if I was wearing flesh. Warm stickiness flowed from the impact point and I glanced down quickly. There was no blood, no indication that I’d even been hit, nor should there have been since I wasn’t here physically.

And yet the blood still flowed.

Imagination, I reminded myself fiercely. He was playing with my mind.

The fog crept over the remnants of my beach, obliterating it completely. Again I had to wonder why. Was it something to do with his blindness in real life? Did he think the fog gave him some advantage over me? It wasn’t as if he didn’t already have enough of those—The thought stopped as I suddenly realized what he was doing.

Taylor wanted me dead, and to do that he had to get me up into the umbra. He had no idea how skilled or not I was at astral traveling, so he was using the fog not only to disguise his movements, but to hide which level we were on.