Yes.
The blond guy behind the desk leaned back in his chair, his expression courteous. “Can I help you?”
“We have an appointment with Rhoan Jenson.”
“If you’d like to take a seat, I’ll inform him you’re here.”
“Thanks.” I walked over to the square of comfy chairs situated to one side of the foyer and sat, legs crossed. I was still wearing the shift dress, so a decent amount of thigh was revealed. But if Azriel noticed, he gave no indication—either physically or mentally. I squashed the sliver of disappointment and said, “Why have you been so absent?”
He half shrugged, the movement casual and eloquent. “I have no wish to be near when you are with the Aedh.”
“Granted, but what about before that? When I was at the café, and Tao exploded?”
“You obviously had everything under control. I did not see the need to interfere.”
In other words, he’d been too pissed off to interfere. I sighed. “Azriel, this distancing is not the answer.”
“Is it not what you wished for?”
I studied him for a moment, wondering if he was deliberately being obtuse. “You can’t solve a problem by ignoring it.”
“Unless I try, I will never know.”
“Surely there has to be a better way—”
“No.” It was sharply said, with an air of finality.
And it made me suspect there was more to this pull between us—more than just assimilation—that worried him. But, as ever, he didn’t deign to confirm or deny the thought—though I had no doubt he’d heard it.
Footsteps echoed softly on the highly polished concrete floor. I turned and watched Rhoan approach. His expression was grim as he stopped a couple of feet away. “We have ten minutes.”
He spun and walked back to the lifts. I hurried to catch him. His tension and anger stung the air and snatched at my breath.
“What do you mean by that? And why are you so angry?”
The doors swished shut behind the three of us, and the lift dropped rapidly to the basement levels.
“I’m angry because I hate having to bring you in on a Directorate case, and because Riley is going to kick my ass over it. Not that I have any choice. And what I meant was, we have ten minutes to set you up for your meeting with our killer.”
“Hang on—you never mentioned any of this.”
“Because we didn’t have the time. And I did tell you to hurry.”
“Yes, but you told me he wanted me on the case, not that he wanted to meet with me again.” My voice was defensive, hinting at anger but also fear. The very last thing I wanted to do was to meet the no-face stranger again.
“As I said, he’s offering a challenge.”
The lift came to a halt and the doors opened. The thick smell of vampire swept in, and my stomach began to knot.
Rhoan strode from the lift. I followed somewhat reluctantly. “So why ring to offer a challenge, and then demand to meet me? And where the hell does he want to meet?”
But even as the question left my lips, I knew. We’d meet on the astral plane again, where the Directorate could employ no traps and he could not be killed.
Rhoan confirmed what I was thinking, then added, “He wouldn’t give us the details, Ris. He wants you, and only you.”
I rubbed my arms and tried to ignore the trepidation that crawled through me. This could only end badly. I didn’t know enough about the astral plane or hunting madmen to avoid the trouble I sensed I was stepping into.
God, as if I didn’t have enough on my plate already.
I followed him silently through the maze of corridors. Though I’d never been down here before now, I’d learned enough over the years to be able to draw a rough floor plan of the place. If the ten levels aboveground were the public face of the Directorate, then the five below were the heart. The majority of the guardians were housed and trained down here, and it was also where the liaisons—the people who made the guardians’ reports legible, who catered to their everyday needs, and who gave them their assignments—operated.
Rhoan slapped his palm against a scanner, and the door slid open. Three other people were already there, but only two looked up as we entered. The first—a brown-eyed, heavy-jowled woman in her mid-fifties—was a stranger. The second, a tall, dark-haired werewolf with handsome features, was Harris West, who’d been recruited by the Directorate after he’d helped Riley out of a deadly situation; I had met him before.
But it was the third man who caught my attention, even though he wasn’t anything out of the ordinary to look at. He sat at the far end of the table, the bright glow of the com-screen in front of him casting a bluish light across his weatherworn features and bald head.
I’d never actually met him, but I knew him all the same. This was Jack Parnell, senior vice president of the Directorate and the man in charge of the entire guardian division.
He was also Madeline Hunter’s half brother, and that made him very, very dangerous, even if he didn’t look it.
He finally looked up from the com-screen, then leaned back in his chair and studied me. There was little in his expression to give away what he might be thinking, but that was no surprise. He might be a few hundred years younger than his sister—an oddity due to both the long life span of shifters and the fact that they were born at either end of Keitr t their father’s life—but he was still a vampire and more than a little practiced at controlling himself. I guess with a sister like Hunter, he’d have to be.
“Risa,” he said, his voice gravelly and holding the slightest hint of warmth. “Thank you for coming so promptly.”
“It’s not like I’ve got any other choice, is it?”
“Now that’s the sort of comment Riley would make. You’ve been hanging around her and Rhoan too long.” A half smile teased his lips, but it faded quickly as his gaze ran past me. “And this is your reaper?”
He’s not my anything. He’ll never be my anything. I swallowed the hollow bitterness that accompanied the thought, and simply said, “His name is Azriel.”
Jack raised one eyebrow. “All reapers are called Azriel, are they not?”
“Yes.” Azriel stopped beside me, his energy warm and intoxicating. “And you are well enough aware of the reason why.”
“All names have power,” Jack said. “Is that why Risa has you at her beck and call?”
I opened my mouth to refute the statement, but again Azriel jumped in before me. “You know the reasons I am here. Let us not play these games when life hangs in the balance.”
Again a smile played briefly about Jack’s lips. I glanced questioningly at Azriel, but he merely looked away. Which was frustrating, to say the least.
Rhoan motioned me to sit, then slid a mug of coffee in front of me. “Here’s the deal. Our hunter wants to meet you on the astral field, where he will outline the details of his macabre challenge.”
I wrapped my fingers around the mug, but it didn’t do much to ease the chill from them. “So no one else can be there?”
“No Directorate personnel,” Jack said. “But he did say the follower you had on the plane was permissible, as he would not interfere. We need to know who your follower is, and whether you can trust him.”
Him. Not her, not them. In those bright depths, I saw awareness. He knew who was following me. Knew why.
But was that so very surprising? Hunter might not want the Directorate overall—and Rhoan and Riley in particular—to know about my dealings with her and the vampire council, but Jack was her brother and the vice president of the Directorate. It was doubtful she’d keep too many secrets from him.
Although I had to wonder what he thought of her plans to take over the council.
“My follower is someone who currently means me no harm.” I hesitated, then half shrugged.
Rhoan frowned, his gaze flickering between me and Jack. He knew something was going on. “That’s not exactly a ringing endorsement—who is he?”