Darkness Unmasked (Dark Angels 5)

Fun not.

I don’t care.

She muttered for several seconds, the words indecipherable but their meaning clear. Happy not, as she would say. Then she said, Can nibble?

Not even a little taste. She is Hunter’s meal, not yours.

Eat Hunter, she muttered.

That, I replied grimly, might yet be an option in the future.

She perked up no end at this and began humming happily. I took a deep breath, released it slowly, and wished the nerves and the tension would just fuck off. They didn’t, however, so I just called to the Aedh once again and carefully made my way inside the house.>They began to chat and were soon as animated as old friends. She wasn’t overly obvious with her flirting, just went with encouraging smiles and the occasional casual touch. But the psychic energy radiating off her was strong enough that I could feel it from here—and it felt hungry.

I shivered. In the back of my mind, Amaya began humming, the soft sound filled with expectation. This one is not for you, I’m afraid.

It hunts, she replied, somewhat testily. Should kill.

Oh, she will be killed, just not by us.

Task mine.

Not this time.

I swear she swore—although if she had, it was in a language I couldn’t understand. Did demons even have their own language?

Of course, Azriel commented, his tone amused. All sentient beings do.

I guess I just didn’t expect it from a demon in a sword.

Remember, before she was in the sword, she was a very powerful demon causing a great deal of havoc.

Havoc good, she commented. Should cause more.

I snorted. Bloodthirsty little beast, aren’t you?

She preened. I shook my head, then tensed as the shifter and the Jorõgumo rose in unison. My gaze swept the club, but I didn’t see any sign of the guardian. Maybe he’d left after talking to the manager.

Not entirely, Azriel said. He’s outside, watching the entrance.

Damn. I should have guessed a guardian wouldn’t abandon his post so easily. Or that we’d be that lucky. We need to take him out.

The shifter and the spider-spirit didn’t head for the front door, however, but rather turned and walked, arm in arm, in my direction. I swore softly, but kept my head down and sipped the remains of my beer.

Awareness crawled across my skin. The closer she got, the worse it got, until it felt like thousands of tiny black feet were skittering all over me. My grip on the glass became so fierce, my knuckles went white—how it didn’t shatter, I had no idea.

They walked past, whispering like lovers. I resisted the urge to jump up and follow them, forcing myself to remain still and listen to their retreating footsteps. They didn’t go into the bathroom as I’d half expected, but rather through the rear fire exit.

I thrust to my feet and followed them, catching the door with my fingertips before it closed again. The alarm, I noted, had been disconnected—and had been for a while, if the state of the wires was anything to go by. Obviously, the Jorõgumo and her lover were not the first to make a retreat out the rear door.

I cautiously peered out. The two of them were halfway down the small lane that ran the length of the row of buildings in this block. I waited until they’d neared the main street, then slipped out, stopping the door from slamming closed before moving—as stealthily as I could—down the lane. The minute the two of them turned left and were out of my sight, I quickened my pace but didn’t run. Even a drunk shifter had damn good hearing. While he might not connect my footsteps with them being followed, he might just mention it. I couldn’t risk the Jorõgumo fleeing again.

Where are they going? I asked.

They have stopped near a car. Azriel paused. The guardian is on the move as well.

Shit. He must have put either movement sensors or temporary cameras in the lane. My gaze swept the shadows around me, but I couldn’t spot either of them. Of course, he very obviously wouldn’t have put them anywhere that they could be easily seen.

If there were damn cameras, though, it might lead to trouble for me. A brown-haired woman following the Jorõgumo and her next victim might not make this guardian suspicious, but it certainly would prick Uncle Rhoan’s internal radar.