“The best thing you can do is get some sleep. You look like shit.”
“Thanks.”
“Seriously, I want you to get some rest. The last thing I need is to be looking after two of you. Especially given what a grouchy and unpleasant patient you can be.”
I snorted softly. “I love you, too. Give me a yell if you need anything or he wakes, won’t you?”
“I will.”
I turned and headed for my bedroom.
“Ris?”
I paused and looked over my shoulder. “What?”
She hesitated. “Remember that Azriel isn’t human. You can’t expect him to react the way any human—or non-human, for that matter—would.”
“I don’t expect anything of him, Ilianna.”
“Maybe that’s the problem.”
I snorted. “He’s here for one reason only—the keys. He needs to secure them for his side, and he needs me to do it. No matter what I may or may not feel for him, that’s the one truth that can never be ignored.”
“But what if it’s no longer the only truth?”
“It’s the only truth that matters. In the end, he has his world, and I have mine, and as the saying goes, never the twain shall meet.”
“Maybe you need to trust fate a little bit more. Or maybe you just need to enjoy what you currently have and not worry about the future.”
How could I not worry about the future when the reality was I might not have one? “Fate is the one that got us into this mess, Ilianna. I’m not trusting her to get us out of it.” I waved a hand. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
With that, I went to bed and—surprisingly, given how much sleep I’d already had that day—slept.
A death march tone woke me. I groaned and rolled over onto my back, rubbing the sleep from my eyes and cursing the idiot on the phone for waking me. Then it twigged that the idiot was Hunter, and I lunged to answer it. But I hit the VOICE ONLY button—I had a feeling she wouldn’t appreciate learning that I was still in bed.
“I haven’t received the crime-scene report yet,” I said, glancing at the clock. It was nine in the morning—no wonder my stomach was grumbling. What little I’d eaten yesterday, I’d thrown up last night. “So I really haven’t got much more to report than what I’ve already said.”
“I have no intention of discussing either your report or the Directorate’s,” she replied, voice snappish. Definitely not in a happy mood this morning.
But then, was she ever?
“So you’re ringing me because . . . ?”
“Because another card was found in the pocket of the second victim—this one for the Blue Angels.”
Which Rhoan would have no doubt already checked out. And I couldn’t see the point in me doubling his work, especially given if he had found anything worthwhile, it would have been in his report. And she, subsequently, would now be hunting down the bitch behind the kills. All of which I wanted to say, but wisely refrained. “Is there any connection between the two clubs?”
“There is, actually. They both hired last-minute replacements from the same booking agency.”
“I gather the Directorate has talked to the agency involved?”
“Yes.” She hesitated. “And so have I.”
Poor them. “And . . . ?”
“I told the agency owner to inform me of all last-minute requests for musicians,” she snapped. “And he just did.”
Hence the reason for the call. Wonderful. I scrubbed a hand across my eyes and flicked the blankets off me. “I’m guessing you’re not sending the Directorate to check her out.”