If it was, it could get tricky. Uncle Rhoan worked for them—he was, in fact, second in charge of the guardian division these days—but he had no idea I was working for Hunter and the council. And I wanted to keep it that way, because the shit would really hit the fan if he and Aunt Riley ever found out. They’d always considered me one of their pack, but that protectiveness had increased when Mom had died. They’d kill me if they knew I’d agreed to work with Hunter—and once they’d dealt with me, they’d track her down and confront her. And that was a situation that could never end nicely.
I’d already endangered the lives of too many people I cared about by dragging them into this mad quest for the keys—I didn’t want to make the situation worse in any way.
“Yes, they are,” she said, “but Jack has been made aware of my wishes in this, and will ensure you get first bite at the crime scene.”
Amusement briefly ran through me, although I doubted her pun had been intentional. “That really doesn’t help with the problem—”
“Rhoan Jenson will not get in the way of this. You are a consultant, nothing more, as far as he is concerned.”
I snorted. “A consultant you’re using to hunt and kill.”
“Yes. And you would do well to remember that you remain alive only as long as the council and I agree on your usefulness.”
“And—” Azriel said, suddenly standing behind me. His closeness had desire stirring, even though I had little enough energy to spare. “—you would do well to remember that rem suany attempt to harm her would be met with even more deadly force.”
Hunter smiled, but there was nothing pleasant about it. “We both know you cannot take a life without just cause, reaper, so do not make your meaningless threats to me.”
“What I have done once I can do again,” he said, his voice stony. “And in this case, as in the last, I would revel in a death taken before its time.”
Azriel, stop poking the bear. I’ve already antagonized her enough.
That is a somewhat absurd statement, given she is clearly vampire, not bear.
Amusement slithered through me again, as he’d no doubt intended. He’d grown something of a sense of humor of late—which was, according to him, a consequence of spending far too much time in flesh form. Whether that was true, I had no idea, but I certainly preferred this more “human” version to the remote starchiness that had been present when he’d first appeared. You know what I mean.
Surprisingly, I do. He touched my shoulder, the contact light but somehow possessive. But her threats grow tedious. She must be made aware it gains her nothing.
Hunter laughed. The sound was harsh, cold, and sent another round of chills down my spine. “Reaper, you amuse me. One of these days, when I’m tired of this life, I might just be tempted to take you on.”
And she was crazy enough to do it, too.
“However,” she continued, “that time is not now. I will send you my friend’s address, Risa. The Directorate will arrive at his home at four. Please be finished with your initial investigation before then, and report your impressions immediately.”
I glanced at my watch. She’d given me a whole hour. Whoop-de-do. “Where does he live, and what sort of security system has he got in place?”
“I’ve just sent you all his details.”
My cell phone beeped almost immediately. I picked it up and glanced at the message. Hunter’s friend—who went by the very German-sounding name Wolfgang Schmidt—lived in Brighton, a very upmarket suburb near the beach. No surprise there, I guess—I certainly couldn’t imagine her slumming it with the regular folk in places like Broadmeadows or Dandenong.
I read the rest of the text, then glanced up at the main phone’s screen again. “Is the security system just key coded?”
“Yes. Wolfgang is—was—a very old-fashioned vampire. He saw no need for anything more than a basic system.”
And maybe, just maybe, that had gotten him killed. While there was no electronic security system on earth that would actually stop a demon, it wasn’t beyond the realms of possibility that something other than a demon had killed her vampire friend.
I mean, no one could ever be one hundred percent right all the time. Not even Hunter—although I’m sure she’d claim otherwise. And really, what sane person would argue the point with her when she wasn’t?
Certainly not me.
And yet you do, Azriel commented, a trace of amusement in his mental tone.
I think we’ve already established I’m not always sane. To Hunter, I added, “You’re not going to be there?”
“No.”
I frowned. “Why not?”
“Because I have”—she hesitated, and an almost predatory gleam touched her gaze—”a meeting that needs to be attended.”
If that gleam was any indication, the so-called meeting involved bloodshed of some kind. After all, the council—and Hunter—considered it perfectly acceptable to punish those who strayed by allowing them to be ripped to shreds by younger vampires.
Still, it seemed odd that she wasn’t hanging around to garner my impressions, especially if she cared for the dead man as much as I suspected.
Like many who have lived for centuries, she has strayed from the path of humanity, Azriel commented. For her, emotions are fleeting, tenuous things.
But not all those who live so long find that fate. Uncle Quinn, for instance, was as emotional as anyone, despite the fact he could be as stoic and cold as any of them when the urge took him.
He is one of the few exceptions. It is very rare to live so long and hang on to humanity.
I glanced at him. Does that apply to reapers as well?
Reapers are not human, so we can hardly hang on to what we do not have.
But you are capable of emotions.
Again a smile touched his thoughts, and it shimmered through me like a warm summer breeze. Yes, we are, especially if we are foolish enough to remain in flesh too long.
In other words, I wasn’t to read too much into what he said or did while he wore flesh, because when all this was over, we’d both go our separate ways and life would return to normal.
I wanted that; I really did.
But at the same time, it was becoming harder and harder to imagine life without Azriel in it.
He made no comment on that particular thought and I returned my attention to Hunter. “Once I’ve checked out the crime scene, what then? Are you going to tell me more about him or am I expected to work on this case completely blind?”
“Impressions first,” she said, and hung up.
“Fuck you and the broom you rode in on,” I muttered, then leaned back in my chair. “Well, this totally sucks.”
“An unfortunate consequence of agreeing to work with someone like Hunter is being at her beck and call.” He spun my chair around, then squatted in front of me and took my hands in his. His fingers were warm against mine, his touch comforting. “But there is little we can do until your mother’s killer is caught.”
I snorted softly. “Even if we ven little wdo find her killer, do you really think she’s going to let me go?”
“We both know the answer to that. But once the killer is caught, we will be in a better position to deny her.”
“Maybe.” And maybe not. After all, Hunter wouldn’t have any qualms about threatening the lives of my friends if it meant securing long-term obedience.
“It does not pay to worry about things that may never happen.”
“No.” I leaned forward and rested my forehead against his as I closed my eyes. “I guess we’d better get moving. I want to be out of that house before the Directorate gets there.”
“Do you wish me to transport us there?”
His breath washed across my lips and left them tingling. Half of me wanted to kiss him, and the other half just wanted him to wrap his arms around me and hold me as if he never intended to let go. Unfortunately, neither was particularly practical right now.