Darkness Devours (Dark Angels 3)

“I look it because I feel it.” With Azriel’s help, I eased down onto a chair. “I think I need a mountain of food and Coke, and I don’t care which comes first.”

“Both are on their way,” she said, and headed back to the kitchen.

Tao came out of the kitchen, handed me a large glass of Coke, then pulled out a chair to sit beside me. The doorbell rang, and he hesitated. “You expecting anyone?”

I shook my head.

“Nor me,” Ilianna said from the confines of the kitchen.

“A human stands at the door,” Azriel noted, then cocked his head sideways a little. “A messenger. He leaves.”

Oh god, I thought, trepidation suddenly so thick it practically closed my throat. The last two times a messenger had come to our door it was to deliver a message from my father, and a whole lot of trouble had ensued.

I wasn’t ready for that.

I really wasn’t.

I licked my lips and looked up at Tao. “We’d better see what’s been left this time.”

He nodded and walked across the room. I twisted around to watch him. He punched the code on the security panel and the door slid open, revealing a plain brown envelope. He swooped, picked it up, then closed the door and walked back.

My gaze dropped to the envelope and my throat went dry. It was from my father. I recognized the handwriting on the front.

I held out a hand and Tao silently gave it to me. Tension rode his movements and his expression was dark. He knew.

I took a deep breath to gather courage, then slid a fingernail under the edge. Inside was a solitary piece of paper. I pulled it out and opened it. The words inside were brief and to the point.

The time has come to find the second key. Meet me, usual place, two days from now.

I didn’t say anything. I closed my eyes and handed the piece of paper to Tao.

“Fuck,” he said. “This isn’t what we need right now.”

No, it wasn’t, but there wasn’t a whole lot we could do about it, either—except pray that fate would give us a break. I didn’t think any of us could stand too much more hardship.

But even as that thought crossed my mind, I knew it was futile. Fate had abandoned us long ago, and everything we’d gone through so far was little more than the initial skirmish. The real war was coming, and if I was still alive at the end of it all, I’d be very fucking surprised.

I didn’t have the courage to go on, I thought wearily. Didn’t have the strength.

But even as the all-too-familiar doubts crossed my mind, I remembered everything I’d done and everything I’d been through—with the Raziq, the Rakshasa, the battle with my sword. Time and again, I’d done whatever had been needed to survive—sometimes with help, sometimes not.

I had the courage. I could do what had to be done.

Not matter what the consequences.

No matter what the cost.