Darkness Hunts (Dark Angels 4)

Very few people have such control on the plane, huntress, he said, as he reappeared. The flames cast an odd purple light across his skin, and made it look like he was wearing a bejeweled death mask.

It was a death mask that held no features.

I shivered—an action that reverberated across the faded beach. Taylor smiled. I smell your fear, huntress. It is a fine scent.

Him so pleasant, Amaya commented.

Amusement ran through me, though it did little to lessen the tension. My sword seemed to be gaining a sense of humor, and though I wasn’t sure if this was a good thing or not, it was certainly better than her continual screaming for a kill.

Kill good.

Maybe her bloodthirstiness was rubbing off on me, because I could only wholeheartedly agree that killing Taylor would be good. But it could happen only in the umbra, and we weren’t there yet.

Fear is a useful tool, I commented. It sharpens the reflexes.

I wondered if Amaya’s fire was capable of dragging Taylor onto the next level, if only because it would be a whole lot easier—not to mention less painful—if I could. I briefly imagined her flames dragging him closer, and though they rippled and moved, nothing changed—certainly not Taylor’s position.

Which in turn meant her flames might not actually have him contained. Maybe he was simply pretending to be so in an attempt to lure me into a false sense of security.

God, the bastard had me second-guessing everything I did.

But is it so useful? he said. Perhaps we should test this theory of yours, huntress.

He threw something into the air, but I ignored the instinct to follow the movement and see what it was. I wasn’t that green.

He chuckled, the sound grating down my spine. I shifted my feet, readying for an attack, but for several seconds nothing happened. His eyeless features just stared at me through the glow of his lilac cage.

Without warning, something hit me side on and threw me into the air. I twisted around, landing in a rolling tumble, then bounced back to my feet.

There was nothing there. Nothing I could see or feel, anyway.

Amaya?

Something, she replied. Hides.

Obviously. Where?

Everywhere.

Oh, great.

I swished her back and forth, but her flames didn’t reveal anything—sinister or not—hiding.

I glanced over my shoulder at Taylor. He was still encaged, but an odd sense of satisfaction oozed from him. Bastard, I thought, and imagined myself standing next to him. The minute I was, I lashed out with a clenched fist. I should have hit nothing but air, but his head snapped back, as if I had hit him.

Then he disappeared again, and the lilac flames fell to the ground, landing in tight coils that writhed and burned.

Seems you could do with a little fear yourself, I said.

It was certainly a blow that should never have hit. I shall endeavor to restrain my confidence a little bit longer.

His voice was so close to me I felt the brush of air past my cheek. I spun around and lashed out with my sword, but hit nothing.

Then something hit me again.

I staggered sideways, then caught my balance and swung around, sweeping Amaya from left to right. Still nothing but air.

Another blow, this time to my right side. I twisted, lashed out. Caught nothing.