Darkness Devours (Dark Angels 3)

“He killed himself?”

“Yes.” He glanced behind us. “People are approaching. We should leave before we are seen.”

“Azriel, I’m a witness. I have to—”

“Have you forgotten the councillors’ edict?”

I had. I closed my eyes, breathed deep, then glanced at my watch. It was close to twelve. Shit. “I need to change,” I said wearily. “I’m not going to that place dressed like this.”

He didn’t answer, just stepped close, took me in his arms, and whisked us both out of there. But the minute we were back in the hotel room, he stepped back. It didn’t stop the awareness that trembled across my skin, nor did it ease the heat of desire shimmering between us. I might be angry with him, but that didn’t stop me from wanting him.

“Azriel—”

“Get changed,” he said curtly. “Or we’ll be late—and I suspect that would not be wise.”

“There’s lots of things that wouldn’t be wise,” I muttered as I headed for the bathroom. “But I suspect that’s not going to stop them from happening.”

“Some things are destined and can never be changed,” he agreed flatly. “No matter how much we might wish otherwise.”

I changed quickly into my jeans and sweater. “And here I was thinking destiny was a fluid thing.”

“Destiny is fluid,” he said. “And sometimes so is death. Logan was not destined to die this night, so his soul will roam.”

“Shame you won’t break that particular rule and talk to his soul.” I glanced in the mirror, studying the not-me image. After a moment, I imagined my face with dark golden hair and a smattering of golden freckles across my nose, then reached down for the face-shifting energy and made it happen. Then I turned and walked out.

Azriel’s gaze swept my face, and he nodded minutely. Meaning, I guessed, that he approved. “Why would we need to talk to his soul when we already have all the information he could give us?”

“Well, he actually didn’t give us everything, since someone had tampered with his memories. But would those blocks hold after death?”

“I do not know,” he said slowly. “It is not something any of us have needed to discover.”

I picked up my purse and slung it over my shoulder. “Do you think it would be worth trying to find out?”

“As I said, I cannot speak to the lost ones. It’s not a matter of breaking some rule. We are physically not capable of speaking to them. They are lost—to rebirth, and to us.” He paused. “But you could most certainly attempt it.”

I frowned. “But I haven’t the training—”

“No,” he agreed. “But the witch Adeline Greenfield suggested you had more of your mother’s talents than you thought. Was not one of her specialties talking to the lost ones?”

What he called lost ones—people who died before their time—I called ghosts. And no matter what Adeline had said, I’d certainly had no luck trying to communicate with the ghosts at the club. “Mom talked to souls, yes, but I never got the impression she targeted ghosts.”

“Who else could she target?” He said it gently, as if he were talking to a simpleton. “Souls who die at their given time move on to either the light or dark path. There is no communicating with them once they have gone through the respective portals.”

“Well, how was I to know that?” I grumbled. I glanced at my watch. “We’d better get moving—”

I’d barely said it when he stepped close, caught me in his arms, and whisked me through the glorious brightness that was his gray fields. We re-formed in the small dark chamber next to the feeding room. The smell of antiseptic was thick in the air, catching in my throat and making me cough. They’d obviously just cleaned up after a session. I closed my eyes for a moment, grateful to have at least missed that, then turned to face the camera and held up my watch.

“Here on time, as ordered,” I said, though I wasn’t sure if they would hear me or were even watching. I turned around and faced Azriel. “You’d better go release Jak, hadn’t you?”

“Will you be all right in this place alone?”

“I’m hardly alone. I have Amaya, remember.”

“True.” He still looked doubtful, however.

I sighed. “I’ll be fine. Just don’t forget to give Jak all the appropriate memories.”

“He will get what he requires.”