Darkness Falls (Dark Angels 7)

He nodded. “The image of the market is clear enough in your mind to allow transport.”

“Good.” I grabbed my handbag, then stepped into his waiting arms. “Onward, dear reaper.”

He zapped us out of there. Therry Street wasn’t all that crowded, thanks to the fact that the market closed at two on Thursdays and it was close to that now. I stepped away from Azriel and scanned the nearby buildings, looking for building numbers. After a moment I spotted one; Found Treasures was closer to the Elizabeth Street end. We headed there in silence, our shoulders occasionally brushing and the sounds of the stallholders packing up for the day ringing all around us. Normal, everyday sounds in a life that had become far from normal. And in many ways, it was never going to be normal again—not only was I in love with a reaper, but I also carried his child.

“What are we going to do once this is over?” I said abruptly.

He glanced at me, one eyebrow raised. “Live and love and raise our child.”

“But you’re a reaper—a Mijai. You can’t walk away from that, can you?”

“No, I can’t, especially now, when there is only one portal remaining between hell, the fields, and here.”

“So how can you live here and yet be there? You may be an extraordinary being, Azriel, but you cannot be in two places at once.”

He half smiled, but there was a seriousness in his eyes that suggested he’d been thinking about this very question for some time. I guess it was pretty typical that it had only just occurred to me.

“Being a Mijai simply means that when there is trouble, I will be called away. I am a warrior, and like the soldiers of this world, I will answer the call to arms when it comes.”

“So when there is no such call, you can be here?”

His smile grew, crinkling the corners of his bright eyes. “This is where both my Caomh and my son will be—do you really expect me to be anywhere else?”

“Well, you do have a family—”

“Who, aside from my sister’s appearance when Jak died, I have not seen in aeons.”

“Who,” I added, ignoring him, “I would very much like to meet. You once told me that family means everything to reapers, Azriel. I want our son to be a part of not just my family, but yours as well.”

“Using our son like that,” he said, voice even despite the flash of annoyance in his eyes, “is what I would believe you’d call playing dirty.”

“Hey, if it overcomes your stubborn determination to set yourself apart from your family—a decision you made because you were ashamed of your fall from grace more than they were—then it’s worth it.”

“You have no idea what my family does and doesn’t think—”

“Neither do you,” I cut in. “But if your family was so ashamed, I very much doubt your sister would have answered your plea for someone to come and collect Jak’s soul. Especially if stubbornness runs in the family.”

“I can see it running in our family,” he all but muttered. “And may the fates help me if our son has acquired even a portion of yours, not to mention your determination to stick your nose into the business of others.”

I grinned. “Ah, but your business is now my business. That’s what being a couple means here on good old Earth.” I stopped as we reached a pretty, purple painted sign that said, in a whimsical sort of font, “Found Treasures.” The shop itself was a tiny space squeezed in between two larger shops. It had a small window barely two feet wide and an ornate wooden door that was currently open. A gaily colored string curtain hung in the doorway, swaying softly in the slight breeze. “And here we are.”

He brushed aside the curtain and ushered me inside. The air in the small shop was rich with the scents of sandalwood—a scent from my childhood, as Mom had used it to help calm the minds of her clients—as well as bergamot and clove, both of which provided protection from negative or harmful forces. In this case, however, I doubted they’d be of much help, given we were dealing with the ultimate of negative forces—a dark practitioner.

The shop itself consisted of little more than a cloth-covered round table and several comfortable chairs. The walls were painted in a soothing green but otherwise bare, and the floor was a mix of old rugs and polished floorboards. Again, it very much reminded me of my mother’s workroom, and a pang of regret and sorrow ran through me. Her soul might have moved on to be reborn, but—because I was destined to become a dark angel—mine would not. Which meant that I’d never have the chance to see her again—unless, of course, sometime in the future, when my life here had ended and my life as a Mijai had begun, I could find her. Maybe even talk to her.

That wasn’t too much to hope for, was it?

Azriel, unsurprisingly, remained mute on that particular subject.

The curtain at the far end of the room was pushed aside, and a pretty blond woman in her midthirties entered. Though she gave us a welcoming smile, her brown eyes scanned us both somewhat critically. I very much suspected that she knew in that instant who we were and why we were there. She didn’t look the type to miss much.

“And how can I help you this lovely afternoon?” she said, her voice warm and mellow.

“Maggie Stiller?” When she nodded, I smiled and held out my hand. “I’m Risa Jones. I believe Kiandra has been in contact with you about helping me locate the owner of a cuff link.”

“Ah yes.” She waved a hand at the small table. “Please, be seated.”

I did, but Azriel remained standin