Darkness Falls (Dark Angels 7)

Stane was Tao’s cousin, and a black marketeer who just happened to be able to hack into any computer system ever created. It was an ability I’d made full use of when it came to Hunter’s cases as well as the search for the keys.

“Yes, but while a computer can check location, it can’t visually visit every place and check whether it bears a coat of arms that lies the wrong way around.”

“But could he not write a program that would at least list those buildings that bear a coat of arms? Surely not every building would do so. It would, at least, shorten the list.”

I frowned. “I guess—”

The phone rang, cutting off the rest of my words. I glanced at the caller ID and groaned. It was Hunter. I guess I should have known the bitch would catch up with me sooner rather than later.

“You do not have to answer it,” Azriel commented. “Although doing so might cause the very problem we are trying to avoid with her.”

“I know. Trust me, I know.” I reached for my Coke, taking a sip to ease the sudden dryness in my throat, then reluctantly hit the vid-phone’s Answer button.

A brief, psychedelic pattern ran across the screen; then Hunter’s countenance—which seemed oddly sharper—glared back at me. Her shadowed green eyes were filled with the promise of death, and a tremor that was part fear, part foreboding, ran through me.

“Good morning, Risa Jones.” Her voice was soft—pleasant, even. But there was something in the way she said my name that increased my fear. Or maybe it was the fact that she’d used my full name, something she hadn’t done in a very long time. “I appear to be missing a Cazador. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

“And why would I know anything about the disappearance of a Cazador?” I replied, feigning a calm I certainly didn’t feel and damn thankful she was at the other end of the vid-phone rather than standing in front of me. Hunter always seemed to catch my thoughts at the worst possible moment, despite the fact that I had superstrong nano-microcells inserted into my body. With them in place, no one should have been able to get inside my head—but she had a habit of doing things she shouldn’t be able to.

“Because this particular Cazador was one of the three who was astrally following you.”

I knew that. Just as I knew his name—Nick Krogan.

Just as I knew he wasn’t missing, but rather dead.

“Not Markel, I hope.”

Markel was the only one of the three I’d had any sort of contact with—outside of killing Krogan, that was. He also happened to be a supporter of the “get rid of Hunter” portion of the high council. Whether Hunter was aware of this was anyone’s guess, but given that he was still alive, I’d have to guess she wasn’t. Another of Hunter’s habits was getting rid of the opposition. Hell, she had a habit of getting rid of people just to teach someone a lesson.

Like Jak.

Tears stung my eyes, but I blinked them away and hoped like hell she hadn’t noticed.

“No, not Markel.” She paused. “But it is interesting you know his name.”

Oops. Trouble headed Markel’s way if I wasn’t very careful. “Hardly,” I replied, my voice coming out surprisingly even given the butterflies going nuts in my stomach. But then, I’d seen what this woman could do. I wouldn’t wish that sort of death on anyone—not even my worst enemy—which Markel most certainly was not. In fact, he was something of an ally, even if he—like just about everyone else who’d come into my life over the last few months—wanted something from me. “He was on duty when I astral traveled to talk to that ghost. As you undoubtedly know.”

“Indeed.” She contemplated me for several seconds, and my heart began to beat so fast it felt like it was going to tear out of my chest. Because I knew what was coming.

Feared it.

Or rather, feared her reaction to my answer.

That’s presuming you tell her the truth, Azriel said. I would advise against doing so.

Not telling her the truth could be a whole lot more dangerous. I took another sip of Coke. It wasn’t doing a whole lot to ease the butterflies in my stomach, but then, I doubted if even several bottles of the strongest alcohol ever made would do that. Hunter had that sort of effect on me—which I guess is why I tended to bite back at the bitch more than was wise. An illusion of bravado was better than none.

Perhaps, but it gives us time, Azriel replied. Right now, that’s what we need, more than anything.

No, what we needed right now was for the whole fucking lot to get lost and just leave us alone. But that wasn’t likely to happen. Not when the fates seemed to be using me as their own personal punching bag.

I returned my attention to Hunter and—trying to delay the inevitable—said, “Have you asked Markel about the missing Cazador? I mean, surely he’d know, given he had to change shifts with them.”

“That’s what is strange,” she drawled. Not believing me, not for an instant. “Markel claims when he came on duty, Krogan had already gone.”

Meaning Markel had removed Krogan’s body from wherever it was they set themselves up to astral travel and, in the process, saved me from a whole lot of Hunter-type grief. Because while the life of a Cazador was usually a short and violent one—exceptions like my uncle Quinn and Markel himself aside—Hunter would have taken one look at Krogan’s body and known who and what had placed the killing blow.

While you couldn’t technically die on the astral plane, what happened to you on the plane could become reality here if the illusion was powerful enough. When I’d stabbed Amaya through Krogan’s heart, it was a combination of his belief and her power that had killed him, both on the field and here on Earth.