Darkness Rising (Dark Angels 2)

Heavy footsteps echoed, then light suddenly swept the wall inches from where I stood. I pressed my back against the bricks and held my breath. The light jumped away and scanned the other wall before disappearing again.

I blew out a breath, but the relief came too soon as the two men began walking toward us. The flashlight’s beam bobbled across the walls. I ducked, but not quickly enough, and the man swore again.

“Just saw someone,” he said, and stopped. I couldn’t see either man, only the brightness of their flashlight, but I could smell them. They were human—although from what I understood, most Razan were. They just enjoyed an extraordinarily long life thanks to their Aedh masters.

“Are you sure?” the other man said, his deep voice uncertain. “I sure as hell didn’t.”

“It was just a quick movement on the edge of the light, but it was there.”

“Then you yakking about it is a good way of letting them know we saw them.”

Azriel touched my shoulder lightly; when I looked up, he motioned me to stay low. I nodded and he winked out of existence. A second later the sound of footsteps running up the tunnel—away from where I was hunkered down—echoed.

“Shit, after him,” the first man said. The two of them disappeared after Azriel, leaving me with only the man in the room up ahead. And I couldn’t avoid dealing with him—not when I had to check the room he was in.

I rose and crept forward. A warm flickering light began to infuse the darkness, and the air was decidedly warmer. I crept forward, listening intently but unable to hear anything beyond the soft murmur of conversation. TV, I decided, and wondered how the hell they got power down here, let alone reception. I pressed my back against the bricks and peered cautiously around the doorway.

He was sitting in a tattered red armchair in front of a metal barrel that had been cut in half and now had a fire burning in it. The smoke rose and fanned out, hanging like a shroud from the ceiling—a good way to die if there was no cross-ventilation, and I couldn’t actually see any. Obviously, these Razan weren’t too bright.

I reached for the Aedh, but a hand grabbed mine and it was all I could do to stop myself from screaming. But only because the wash of heat told me who it was.

I glanced at Azriel, who shook his head. Do not, he said, his voice crystal clear inside my mind. Obviously, the microcells weren’t an impediment to him reading my thoughts. They are attuned to the Aedh and will sense it.

Well, fuck. Why couldn’t something just be easy for a change?

I flexed my fingers, then took off my shoes and left them near the doorway. I crept forward, the old brick flooring icy under my toes. The man stirred and reached for another piece of wood, tossing it into the barrel with a clunk. I froze. The flames flared and sparks bloomed upward, briefly illuminating the ceiling before the smoke closed

in again.

He settled back down and, after a moment, I crept on.

But somehow, he sensed me.

In one swift movement, he rose and swung around, a gun rising in his left hand. I dove forward, grabbed the top of the chair for balance and twisted around in midair, aiming my feet at his midriff. He jumped back, firing the gun as he did so. My feet missed his belly, but his aim was better. The bullet skimmed my left leg before tearing a chunk of flesh from my thigh. Pain curled through me but I ignored it and let go of the chair, landing in a crouch, the gun following my movements. I threw myself sideways, realized too late just how close I was to the barrel, and hit it hard. As the barrel and I spilled to the floor, Azriel took shape behind the man and grabbed the weapon. I jerked away from the fire and pushed to my feet, only to see the man flying through the air and hitting the wall with enough force to break bones. He slid down to the floor and was still.

I glanced across at Azriel, who calmly handed me the weapon. I slipped the safety into place, shoved it into the waistband of my jeans, then said, “You’re breaking the rules again, aren’t you?”

“As I said,” he replied, his expression impassive, “my quest comes first. If that man had succeeded in killing you, it would have created serious problems. How is your leg?”

I blinked at the sudden change of topic, and looked down. The bullet had torn a hole in my jeans, and blood was pulsing down my leg. Of course, the minute I became aware of it, the bloody thing began to throb like hell. I swore softly and wished—for the hundredth time in my life—that I could shift shape to heal myself. Unlike my side wound, this one wasn’t about to heal in an hour or two. I was stuck with trying to stem the flow of blood until that happened. I guess I just had to be thankful that these men were human rather than shifter or wolf. Otherwise, the damage might have been greater.

I limped around the chair and over to the Razan. After checking his pulse, I stripped off his shirt, tore it into strips, then wrapped them tightly around my thigh. Not exactly hygienic, but better than nothing.

“The guard will be out for about eight minutes,” Azriel said. “The others will be back before then. We must find the book quickly.”

“Which would be a whole lot easier if the fucking thing weren’t hidden by veils.” I paused, looking around the room, trying to find something—anything—that sparked a reaction in me. There was nothing.

I sighed in frustration, then put my shoes back on and limped out of the room. The tunnel curved on, and in the distance I could hear the footsteps of the other two men. They were heading back already. All hell would break lose once they’d found their companion. We were running out of time.

The tunnel split into three. I paused, peering into each branch intently, trying to figure out which way to go. The one to my immediate left echoed with the sound of footsteps, so there was no way I was heading down there if it could be avoided. The one straight ahead smelled stale and old, but the air in the one to the right stirred gently, and held the freshness of rain. There was an exit down there somewhere.

My gaze went back to the middle tunnel and, after a moment, I walked on. I don’t know why; it just felt right.

The tunnel’s old brick walls ran with slime, and the floor was slick with moisture. I couldn’t see it because the darkness had closed in once again, but I sure as hell could smell it—and it was nasty. Thankfully I wasn’t wearing my pretty new shoes, but even these older ones weren’t going to be wearable after this. If I’d had half a brain, I would have changed into boots when I’d gotten home.

Any further delay would not have been wise, Azriel commented.

“Stop reading my goddamn thoughts,” I muttered.