Darkness Falls (Dark Angels 7)

“Otherworldly as in magical?”

“Perhaps.” His concern raced through me, knife sharp but edged with anger. “Perhaps it would be wise for you to disappear now. The fact there is magic both around this place and on you very much suggests that Mike is at least involved with Lauren.”

“If he is, then we can’t afford to make him suspect we’re aware of that,” I said. “Lauren undoubtedly has a dozen other identities she could disappear into, and if that happens, we lose her.”

Though his expression gave little away, he could no longer keep his feelings from me, and to say he was not happy would be something of an understatement. “You placed the tracker?”

“I did.” I hesitated. “If we want to track him, though, we need some form of transportation. My car was blown up with the house, and he knows my bike too well. Do you think you can convince someone to lend us a car?”

“I shall appropriate one immediately.” He paused. “Mike is on the way back.”

I blew Azriel a kiss, then scooted back to the table and quickly demolished several mouthfuls so that it would seem as if I’d been eating the whole time he was gone. I glanced up as he sat back down. His expression was less than happy. “Is everything okay?”

He nodded. “Although I’m afraid I may have to cut our dinner a little short. I have another meeting I forgot about.”

I raised my eyebrows. Coincidence or truth? And was that “other meeting” a result of a phone call he’d made while in the bathroom? A phone call to Lauren, perhaps? It seemed likely, given that he’d so abruptly left the table after examining the ward on my wrist—and it would certainly explain his expression now.

“You need to get yourself a portable memory device,” I said. “You know, a smartphone.”

He picked up his knife and fork and began eating. “I do have one; I just prefer not to put my life onto a device that could be stolen.”

“They’re fingerprint secured nowadays,” I said. “No one but you can access them.” Well, no one but a hacker of high skill. Like Stane, for instance. And maybe that was something we needed to do.

He waved the comment away. “I still prefer to rely on my brain, even if I do occasionally forget things of late.”

“If you were a woman, I’d ask if you were pregnant.” Though the comment was lightly said, I couldn’t help but watch his reaction carefully. Because if he was Lauren, then he would be pregnant. Lucian had been absolutely certain, and I had no reason to doubt him given that a similar conviction with Ilianna had proved true. And though I had no idea how a full-body shift would affect any child she/he might be carrying, Lucian had been well aware of what Lauren was, and he wouldn’t have impregnated her if there’d been any risk of a shift damaging or aborting his child.

Mike snorted, the sound somewhat disparaging. And yet, there was something about his reaction that had me frowning—something that didn’t quite sit right. Maybe it was just the glimmer of smugness that had flared briefly in his eyes.

“If I was female, and a lot younger, then that would be a possibility,” he said, “because I am certainly not a monk.”

“Age is no barrier to pregnancy these days.”

“No, but being male is.” He eyed me severely for a moment. “This is a very odd line of questioning.”

I smiled. “I’m not questioning; I was merely having a bit of fun.”

“Ah.” He glanced at his watch and shook his head. “I really do have to go. Perhaps we can reset this dinner for a later date?”

“Sure. Though I hope you don’t mind if I finish my meal first.”

“By all means, go ahead.” He took his wallet from his pocket and placed some cash on the table. “I am sorry I have to leave so abruptly.”

I wasn’t. But I smiled and waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it, Mike. We’ll catch up again when you have a chance.”

He nodded and

rose, sweeping his coat off the back of the chair, then giving me a slight, old-fashioned bow. “Till next we meet.”

I nodded, and he left. I waited until I was sure he wasn’t coming back, then reached down into my purse and grabbed the tracking device. Once I’d turned it on, a street map appeared, accompanied by a small red dot that was steadily moving away from the restaurant’s position on Smith Street. I scooped up a few more mouthfuls of the delicious pie, then grabbed my bag and headed out the door. Mike was half a block ahead, climbing into his silver Mercedes.

Turn right, Azriel said. I have acquired a car, but it is parked around the corner from the restaurant.

I glanced Mike’s way again, then headed right. Azriel was standing beside a white Ford Focus.

“Good car choice,” I said, as he tossed me the keys. “It’s fast, but common enough not to stand out. Who’d you steal it from?”

“I do not steal. I merely borrow.”