Archangel's Shadows (Guild Hunter 7)

Janvier’s eyes became chips of malachite, hard and icy. “One who came to the city to make a better life for herself, find a man who’d offer her the security she craved.”

“Except she found a predator instead.” It was too common a story, the predators as often human as immortal, but that didn’t mean each and every victim didn’t deserve justice.

Her resolve firm, Ashwini returned to the contents of the box. A small figurine of a cat chasing a ball, chipped in one corner, a white teapot with pretty blue flowers, and a pen from a chain hotel sat on top of a shoe box filled with stubs and papers. Setting the shoe box aside for the moment, Ashwini and Janvier went through the rest.

It wasn’t much. More inexpensive ornaments that had meant something to Felicity, but that she’d been too embarrassed to bring into her new “home.” Given what Ashwini knew of Felicity’s nature by now, she was certain the shame and embarrassment had been fostered in her by another.

The woman who’d been cheerful and hopeful and bouncy as a bunny, the woman who’d had every intention of inviting her working-girl friends to tea in her Vampire Quarter house, wouldn’t have felt it herself without outside pressure.

“That’s it,” Janvier said after removing two books from the box.

There were no notations on the dog-eared pages, no scraps of paper hidden within.

“Shoe box,” she said, hoping against hope that Felicity had left them a thread to tug, a trail to follow.

“She didn’t keep a proper grocery list.” Ashwini showed Janvier how Felicity had scribbled herself a reminder to buy milk around a recipe she’d ripped out of a magazine. “But she was compulsive about her finances.” Those documents were neatly bound by a rubber band.

“When you are poor,” Janvier said, “you never forget the value of money, non?”

Ashwini ran her finger under the rubber band. “I was never poor, except for the time I was on my own.” She’d always remember the day she ran from Banli House, racing from the terror of it in flimsy slippers not meant for gravel and tarmac. The soles of her feet had been bloodied lumps of meat afterward, tiny stones embedded into her flesh.

The pain hadn’t mattered. She’d found the lonely dark of the road, waved a truck to a stop, and taken her life in her hands when she’d jumped into the cab. Better, she’d thought in her panicked and angry state, to die in freedom at the hands of a maniac truck driver than end up insane in the prison of Banli.

As it was, the driver hadn’t been a maniac. He’d just been a lonely man who wanted some conversation on the road and who hadn’t seen any reason not to give her a ride to her grandma’s home out of state. Of course, Ashwini didn’t have a grandparent out of state, but it had been as good a story as any.

“On your own at fifteen, cher,” Janvier said gently. “I think you understand the meaning of poor.”

Ashwini thought of how she’d begged her way into a dishwashing job at the diner where the trucker had dropped her off, her wages paid in meals. She’d slept rough in the woods nearby, moved on after a bare three days, afraid she hadn’t run far enough. By then, she’d scoped out the drivers who patronized the diner, deliberately using her ability for the first time in her life to separate the good from the bad. And the good ones took her far enough away that she’d finally felt safe.

“The funny thing is,” she said, her eyes on the shoe box, “I ran in the opposite direction to Felicity.”

“A rural area?”

Ashwini nodded. “I’d seen a documentary, knew the big fruit orchards always needed fruit pickers.” She’d timed her escape for summer, conscious she’d never make it in winter without the right gear. “I turned up and worked hard and lived in a barn or two to save money for winter. I snuck in after everyone else went home, snuck out before the farmers woke up.”

“Will you tell me how you came to the Guild?” Janvier asked, his voice dark music that seduced and coaxed and made her feel alive.

Ashwini let the music sink into her bones as she opened the door into the past. “I was three months into my new life and out of work when Saki found me asleep in her parents’ barn. She was the toughest woman I’d ever met”—all honed strength and patience—“but instead of kicking me out, she sat down on a hay bale and asked me why I thought this existence was better than home.”

Janvier watched her with a quiet intensity. “You told her the truth.”

“Yes.” To this day she didn’t know why, but that conversation had changed the course of her life. “She told me about the Guild, said my independence and resilience would stand me in good stead.”

The choice had been easy; it was the first time in her life anyone had said she might succeed at something without having to alter her very nature. “It sounded too good to be true, and I was sure they’d reject me, but they didn’t.” Her defiant facade had cracked at the acceptance, left her exposed to Saki’s keen eyes. That was when the other woman had taught her the first rule of the Guild: Your fellow hunters will always have your back. We will never use what we know about you against you.

“I was scared to return to New York to attend the Academy, afraid Arvi would put me back in Banli House. But . . . I missed my brother, too.” Love was never uncomplicated; she could hate Arvi and love him at the same time. Once, she’d tried to tell herself that she felt nothing, but the lie had been too big to carry. “The Guild psychologist was the one who made sure I wouldn’t be committed again. So I came home, did everything in my power to be a normal teenager.”

“And your brother?” Janvier asked softly. “Did you see him on your return?”

Ashwini’s mind flashed back to that instant so many years ago when Arvi slammed into the conference room at Guild HQ. She’d never forget the wild look in his eyes, his hair a tumble and his jaw shadowed with a coarse beard.

He’d stopped halfway to her, his chest heaving. “You’re safe. Alive.”

The agonizing relief in those words would live with Ashwini forever. “Yes,” she’d whispered, her hand clenching on the back of a chair as she stared across the gulf between them. She’d wanted to run into his arms and she’d wanted to punch and scream at him, the equally powerful urges crashing up against each other to lock her feet to the floor. “I would’ve died in that place.”