Darkness Hunts (Dark Angels 4)

We reappeared in the middle of Aunt Riley’s living room. She was, as Quinn had said, waiting for us.

“About fucking time.” Her gaze swept over me and her expression became grim. “What the hell have you been tangling with?”

“Hellhounds.” I stepped free from Azriel. “There were two of them, and two of us.”

“Unfair odds in anyone’s book. Those bastards fight nasty.” She waved me toward the bathroom, then glanced at Azriel. “You can wait here. Or you could do something useful and help Quinn in the kitchen.”

The thought of Azriel making coffee struck me as funny, but he merely offered a short bow and headed for the kitchen. But then, very few people ever argued with Riley when she used that tone.

I stripped my clothing off as I walked into the bathroom, and dumped the bloodied remnants of it in the bin rather than the laundry chute.

Behind me, Riley sucked in a sharp breath. “What the hell happened to your back?”

I cursed mentally. I’d forgotten about the damn scar. “I fell off my bike and hit a pole.” Which was the truth, just not the reason for the scar. “Both the bike and I got smashed up pretty badly.”

“I can imagine.” Her tone was dry and suggested she didn’t believe my excuse, but she motioned me toward the shower without further comment. The water came on automatically as I entered, the water hot and the spray sharp and massaging. It felt sensational against my battered and bruised body.

“Who else was with you in that tunnel today? Azriel obviously wasn’t.”

I hesitated, but there was little point in lying. Especially since Quinn already knew. “Jak.”

“Have you lost brain cells or something?” There was an edge of incredulity in her voice. “Why the hell are you messing around with him again?”

“Because I needed someone who knew the streets and who could mix it up with street scum without raising suspicions.” I couldn’t quite hide my irritation. I’d really had enough of people questioning my judgment today. “He’s a source, nothing more.”

She studied me for a moment; then a warm grin broke loose. “Spoken like a true daughter of mine. Your mother would be horrified.”

I smiled. “She always did blame you for my wild ways.”

“Yeah, she did.” Her grin faded. “So tell me about the hellhounds.”

I did so. Once I was out of the shower, she sealed the few wounds that were still bleeding, patched up the rest, then fetched me some clean clothes. When I was dressed, she dragged me into her arms and hugged me fiercely.

“Ris, we’re here if you ever need help. Remember that.”

I blinked back sudden tears. “I know, but—”

“But you are incredibly stubborn and want to do things your way.” She stepped back, a slight smile twisting her lips. “You really could have been mine, we’re so damn alike. Which is why I’m reminding you. I don’t want you making the same mistakes I did.”

“I won’t.”

Her gaze searched mine for several seconds, and her smile become stronger. “You won’t seek help, you mean.” Her voice was wry. “Not unless you absolutely have to.”

I didn’t say anything. She laughed, then caught my hand and tugged me toward the living room. “Let’s go get you fed, before you fade away into nothing.”

* * *

I’d made it through three meat and salad sandwiches and was feeling a hell of a lot more sociable when the phone rang. The ringtone told me it was Rhoan, and trepidation tripped through me.

I swallowed to ease a suddenly dry throat, then hit the vid-phone’s ANSWER button. Rhoan’s expression was grim. “He’s made contact.”

“And?”

“We have a name—Vonda Belmore.”

I frowned. “Why would he give you her name? It makes the hunt far too easy.”

“Yeah, that’s what’s got us worried.”