Chapter Four

“WELL, WELL, WELL,” HE ALL BUT PURRED. “Imagine meeting you again.”

“Yeah, just imagine.” I shoved the note into the back pocket of my jeans, then flexed my fingers. He wasn’t alone. I could smell a second man trying to creep around the lockers, obviously hoping to come up behind me. “Where are the rest of your friends? Oh, that’s right. Two are dead, and the other is in the hands of the Directorate. Are you sure you want to do this a second time?”

Several people scurried out of the locker room. Obviously, the guy attempting to creep around the back had spooked them. Such brave souls, leaving a woman to tackle two men alone. Of course, I wasn’t exactly defenseless, but they wouldn’t know that.

His quick smile was all teeth—not vampire teeth, but razor-sharp feline teeth. He might not be a full shifter, and he might not be able to take on full feline form, but he had extraordinary control over the bits he could change. Like his teeth, and the nails that were even now elongating into claws.

But as I watched him closely, waiting for his first move, anger surged—an anger so thick and deep that it stole my breath. It was all I could do not to flow into Aedh form and rip him apart.

I took a deep, quivering breath that did little to tame the fury.

It was scary, that rage. Really, really scary.

He made a motion with his claws. “Hand that letter over right now, and we’ll leave you in peace.”

I clenched my fingers against the urge to leap for his throat, aware that the second man was getting closer.

“Sorry,” I said, barely keeping my voice even, “but I had a nice little chat with the man who ended up in the Directorate’s clutches, and I know for a fact that’s not true.”

He smiled. It wasn’t a pleasant sight. “Orders can change, you know.”

“Whether they’ve changed is not the point.” Heat swirled across my skin. Azriel had taken form on the other side of the lockers. Was he taking care of the second man or at least running interference? I hoped so. I said to the first man, “And I’m hardly going to hand you a note I haven’t even read yet.”

“That,” he said softly, “is unfortunate.”

And with that, he sprang. His leap was high, graceful, and fast. I threw myself out of the way, twisted around, then lashed out with a booted foot. The blow missed by inches, catching the end of his foot and little else.

I brushed my fingertips against the concrete, steadying myself as he leapt a second time. But the rage surged again, becoming a haze of heat that would not be denied.

This time I held my ground until the last possible moment. And when he lashed out, I let the blow hit me, his claws cutting through my jacket and into flesh. But the anger inside was burning so bright that I didn’t feel it, even though blood pulsed, rich and warm, down my side. I grabbed his arm, wrenched his claws free, then twisted him around, flinging him as hard as I could into the lockers on the far side of the room.

There was no response for the second man. Azriel had to have stopped him.

The first man hit with a resounding crash, denting metal as he fell. As he scrambled to his feet, I launched at him, twisting around in the air so that I hit him feetfirst, knocking him back into the lockers again. When I hit the ground, I lunged forward, shoving one hand against his throat to hold him in place as I kneed him hard in the balls. He wheezed in pain and tried to double over; it was only my grip on his neck that kept him upright. And my fingers were shaking with the urge to squeeze harder, deeper …

Fuck, where is this coming from?

“Tell me who you’re working for.” My voice was edged with the madness within, my face mere inches from his. His scent clawed at my throat, stale and unpleasant.

He took several gasping breaths then wheezed, “Handberry. It was Handberry.”

“Handberry’s dead.” My grip tightened on his neck, and it was all I could do not to keep on squeezing. God, I so wanted to wring the life from him, and I think it was only the fear of that need that kept it in check. “So tell me the truth.”

“Fuck! I don’t know,” he spat out. “We got a call from a guy saying he was our new handler, and he told us to come here and wait for you to collect the letter. We’ve been waiting for fucking weeks.”

I hadn’t expected that. “When did you get that call?”

“A month ago.”

“And he hasn’t contacted you since?”

“No. He just said to keep watch and to call when we retrieved whatever was in the locker.”

“If all you wanted was the note, why didn’t you just break in and get it?”

“Because it wasn’t in there, was it? We checked yesterday.”

“So how did the new handler know something would be there?”

“He’s getting orders from someone, isn’t he? Why can’t it be the same someone as Handberry?”

Why not indeed? I guess it was lucky they’d checked last night rather than this morning, because my father must have had it placed there after he’d talked to me. “If you’ve been stationed here for weeks, why didn’t you sense the Razan who delivered the note?”

“Because we haven’t seen another Razan for weeks. I told you, we’ve been stationed here.”

So how did the note get into the locker? “What about an Aedh?”

He snorted softly. “An Aedh doing his own dirty work? That’s likely.”

For a man who was all but a slave to an Aedh, he was pretty damn critical of them. “Do you have a contact number for this new handler of yours?”

He nodded as well as he could with my hand pressed against his throat. “On my phone, in my top pocket.”

I reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out his cell phone, and shoved it into mine. “What name is your handler under?”

“Handberry. I figured it was as good as any.”

Fair enough, I thought, and then hit him, as hard as I could, with my free hand, knocking him out. Then I let him drop to the floor.

For several seconds I did nothing more than stand there staring at him, my fists clenched and body shaking. Then, gradually, the rage eased and I dropped down beside him, hugging my knees to my chest as I squeezed my eyes shut and fought the urge to cry.

Goddamn it, what had just happened?

Warmth surrounded me, then strong hands caught mine and squeezed them gently. “Risa,” Azriel said softly. “Look at me.”

I didn’t want to. I really didn’t, but there was a note of command in his voice that I couldn’t ignore. I opened my eyes and stared into the blue of his. Saw the understanding there, the compassion.

It shook me almost as much as the rage.

“The events of the last few months have not only threatened your physical well-being,” he said softly, “but also damaged your emotional safety and security. It is natural that, sooner or later, you will experience trauma-induced incidents such as this.”

“But I was moving on, I was coping. Why would the rage hit now and not before, when it all first happened?”

“Because you did not seek help for—or even talk about—the events. You bottled it up inside and forced yourself to go on as normal—”

“But I didn’t. I was useless to everyone for weeks—”

He squeezed my hands again, his gaze searching mine—and, I suspected, seeing far more than anyone else ever had. “That was grief, and natural given what had happened. But we are connected through our chi, and I know the fury, self-loathing, and uselessness that burn inside you, even now.”

Tears tracked their way down my cheeks, cold against my skin. I didn’t dispute his words, though. How could I, when they were true?

I hadn’t dealt with the anger at all. I’d merely pushed it down, pushed it away, and tried to function as normally as I could.

“The rage had no outlet until these men—who may or may not be involved with your mother’s killer—reentered your life.” He released one hand and touched my cheek lightly, and I closed my eyes against the compassion in his eyes and the sense of caring in his touch.

He was a reaper. He couldn’t care.

It was dangerous to even think that, because he was only here for the same reason as everyone else—to find my father.

“Yes,” he agreed softly, “but that doesn’t mean I don’t understand what you are going through, or sympathize with the rage. I have felt such rage myself.”

I opened my eyes again. “But you’re a reaper—”

“I’m a Mijai,” he corrected. “And as a warrior, I have experienced more than my fair share of loss.”

My gaze searched his. “Someone close to you?”

“A friend,” he said, then released my hand and rose.

The compassion and understanding disappeared in an instant, and I knew I’d get little more out of him. But that didn’t stop me from asking, “So what did you do?”

He raised an eyebrow. “I did exactly what you are attempting. I tracked down and killed those responsible.”

“And did it make anything any better? Did it make you feel any better?”

His mouth twisted bitterly. “No. But at least I could rest easier with the knowledge that they would not be able to destroy anyone else.”

And that’s what I wanted. While it was undoubtedly true that I wanted vengeance so badly I could almost taste it, I also wanted to stop these people from doing to someone else what they’d done to my mom.

He studied me for a heartbeat, then said, “You’re bleeding.”

As if his words were a trigger, the pain hit, rolling through me in heated waves. I unzipped my coat and peeled it away from my side. The shirt underneath was torn and covered in blood, but the wound itself wasn’t really that deep. It hurt like a bitch, but then shallow wounds were often more painful than the deep ones.

“That is a debatable point,” Azriel commented.

“You’ve obviously never experienced a paper cut.” I pulled off the remnants of my shirt and used the unbloodied bits to stanch the wounds. There were benefits to being half wolf, but quick healing was one of those things I didn’t quite get enough of. I healed much faster than a human, but my inability to shift into wolf shape meant I couldn’t get the almost instantaneous restoration that most wolves enjoyed.

“Why do you not heal yourself in Aedh form?” Azriel said.

I wrinkled my nose and zipped my jacket back up. “Shifting into Aedh saps my strength badly, so I can imagine what trying to heal myself while changing form would do.”

“So you’ve never actually tried?”

“I’ve never even really thought about it.”

There was censure in Azriel’s gaze, but he simply nodded toward the panther. “Are you going to call the Directorate about these two?”

“So you did run interference with the other one?”

“Yes. He had an unfortunate collision with a fist.”

He said it so matter-of-factly that I actually stared at him for several seconds, wondering if I’d heard him right. But then his lips twitched, ever so slightly, and amusement bubbled through me—although I had a suspicion if I let it loose, it might hold a slightly hysterical edge.

“Wasn’t there some sort of reaper rule that said you couldn’t interfere in matters of the flesh?”

“No, I said I couldn’t dispense justice to those wearing flesh unless they stepped into the realms of the gray fields, as the witch had. Which does not preclude the possibility of interaction with humans should the need arise.”

“Well, I’m glad you decided to step in. I’m not really sure I could have coped with two of them myself.”

He nodded in acknowledgment, then said, “I will guard the door and keep people out while you phone your uncle.”

I watched him walk away, my gaze dropping from the broadness of his shoulders to the stylized tattoos decorating his well-defined back. While the biggest of these was the Dušan, there were others. One was rose-like, another like an eye with a comet tail, and still others nothing more than random swirls. They were his tribal signatures, apparently, although I had no idea what that meant.

And I wasn’t likely to find out anytime soon, I thought wryly, as I pushed to my knees and leaned over to feel the cat shifter’s pulse.

It was steady enough, meaning I couldn’t have done too much damage. I got my phone out, hit the VID-SCREEN button, and said, “Uncle Rhoan.”

The screen went into psychedelic mode as the voice-recognition program swung into gear and dialed Rhoan’s number. A couple of seconds later, he appeared. “Hey, Ris,” he said, the corners of his gray eyes crinkling with warmth as he smiled. “How are you this morning?”

“Not as good as you, by the looks of it.”

He laughed. “Liana and Ronan are home from the academy for the weekend. It’s just nice to have the whole family in one place again.”

Lianna and Ronan were the eldest of the Jenson children and had—against Riley’s wishes—enlisted in the Victorian Police Force. “They’re nearing graduation soon, aren’t they?”

From what they’d told me, the course ran for about six weeks; after that, there was a two-year probationary period.

“Yeah, only a couple of weeks to go. Riley’s trying to convince them to go for a country posting. She reckons it will be safer.”

I grinned. “Bad guys do make it into the country, you know.”

“I know, but convincing her is another matter. What can I do for you, my sweet?”

“Well,” I said, my smile fading a little, “you know those half-shifters that attacked me once before?”

His whole demeanor changed in an instant. Gone was the man I knew and loved. The countenance now on the screen was one of the best guardians the Directorate had ever produced.

“They’ve attacked again?”

“The other two have, yeah. They’re both unconscious at the moment, but if you could get some help down here, I’d appreciate it.”

“Where are you?”

I told him, and he nodded. “I’ll be down in ten.”

“Wait—”

He didn’t, just clicked off. I swore softly. Riley was going to kill me. She didn’t often have her entire family together for a weekend, and now I had to go spoil things by calling Rhoan away.

Although, to be fair, she’d always considered me part of her extended pack, and she would have killed me if I’d called anyone else.

A steady stream of curses began flowing from the far side of the lockers. Obviously, the other shifter was now awake. I checked the panther’s pulse again, then rose, wincing a little and holding my side as I walked around to the back of the lockers. The second shifter lay on his stomach, and his hands and feet hog-tied behind his back. The rope used to bind him was nothing I’d ever seen before. It looked ethereal, as if it had been pulled from the gray fields themselves.

He twisted his head around and glared up at me. “This is fucking uncomfortable!”

“Good,” I said, a little amused that he’d actually think I’d care. “Who sent you?”

I’d already had the answer from the panther, but it never hurt to double check.

“What’s in it for me if I tell you?”

“I’ll consider releasing you before the Directorate gets here. Now answer the question.”

He studied me for a moment, obviously weighing his options.

“Handberry,” he said eventually. “Or whoever it is that has taken his place.”

“Does that mean someone has taken over ownership of the Phoenix?” The Phoenix was a downmarket bar situated on a street that just happened to be at the intersection of several major ley lines. We’d all but stopped the consortium that had been attempting—through any means necessary—to buy all the properties along the street in an effort to control the ley-intersection, but not all of the consortium’s owners had been caught.

“Like I fucking know or care,” he said. “Handberry was just using the Phoenix as a base of operations, as far as I knew. I doubt this new guy will even go near the place. He sounds way too posh for that.”

Posh or not, that didn’t preclude the possibility that he was there. It was certainly worth checking. “And you’ve never seen the new handler?”

“Nah, he always has his vid-screen off, and we’ve never met him in person.”

“And you don’t find this strange? I mean, Handberry worked alongside you, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, but Handberry was one of us.”

“Meaning a Razan, or a human twisted by magic?”

“Both.”

“So which Aedh do you belong to?”

Something flickered in his eyes. “I can’t say.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Can’t,” he said. “The information was burned away when the magic happened.”

And that sounded a little too convenient. “So who gave you the ability to shift shape?”

He shrugged. “We weren’t allowed to see the practitioner.”

I raised an eyebrow. “And how, pray tell, did they achieve that miracle?”

“We were knocked out. Apparently it would have been too painful otherwise.”

Well, given the fact that the magic had twisted their beings at a cellular level, I’d guess that was something of an understatement. It was pointless asking where and when—apparently one of the benefits of being a Razan was a very long life, and though these men looked to be little more than midthirties, they could have been hundreds of years old. And I doubted the shifting ability was new. They were too good at controlling it for it to be a recent event.

Although it seemed odd that these Razan wouldn’t have a stronger connection to their masters than just a telephone number.

But maybe the Razan ranks had levels. Maybe it was only the ones like Handberry who had a direct connection to their master. Maybe the grunts were kept ignorant for safety reasons.

“There’s nothing else you can tell me about the ceremony or the people who performed it?”

“It was a man. Other than that, your guess is as good as mine. How about releasing me now? My arms are going fucking numb.”

“Can’t say I’m sorry about that, considering what you were intending to do to me.” I swung around and left.

“Hey,” he shouted after me. “You said you’d release me before the Directorate got here!”

“No, I said I’d consider it,” I flung over my shoulder. “Which I have. Consider the request denied.”

He swore, long and viciously, but I ignored him and walked around to check out my other prisoner. He was also beginning to wake. But I didn’t really have anything to tie him up with, so I did the next best thing—I knocked him out again.

Rhoan appeared ten minutes later, and he wasn’t alone. The man who accompanied him had dark hair and well-defined, handsome features. His eyes were the blue of the ocean, his shoulders broad, and his body lithe. He was also a werewolf. Vamps might not be able to traverse the daylight hours well, but other nasties certainly could, so it was logical for the Directorate to have more than just vamps on their team.

“Ris,” Rhoan said, his gaze sweeping from me to the man at my feet and then back again. Humor glinted in the cool depths of his eyes, but died quickly as his nostrils flared. “You’re hurt.”

I shrugged. “It’s a scratch.”

He eyed me, demeanor disbelieving—undoubtedly because he could smell the blood. “This is Harris. Riley’s threatened me with death if I spend more than an hour away, so Harris will ensure these two are taken back for questioning. And it doesn’t smell like a scratch.”

“Honestly, it’s okay. I’m okay.”

If my reply sounded halfhearted, it was only because I was racking my brains trying to remember where I’d heard Harris’s name before. Then it hit me—Harris was the cop who’d helped Aunt Riley out the time she’d been kidnapped and brainwashed.

The man in question nodded my way, then continued on past us, heading for the other side of the lockers, moving with an economy that spoke of both grace and understated power. As he disappeared around the corner, the shifter’s swearing abruptly ceased.

I glanced at Rhoan. “I asked the other man who his maker was, but he said the information had been burned from his mind. Can you check that out?”

Rhoan nodded. “What did they want?”

“The letter my father left in the locker.”

His gaze narrowed. “Why would your father leave a letter in a locker in the middle of a train station?”

“Because that’s just the way he does things.”

“What does it say?”

I shrugged. “It’s instructions on how to read the Dušan’s book, which is pretty useless given the Aedh have the book, not me.”

He grunted, accepting the half lie. “That could be a good thing. If you don’t have the book, you can’t chase keys. And that means Hunter might just leave you alone.”

Given Hunter was all that stood between me and the high vampire council, I was actually hoping she didn’t. And I had hell’s chance of the Aedh giving up. But I didn’t say that. I simply shrugged.

He eyed me for a moment, obviously suspecting there was a reason behind my silence, but thankfully Harris chose that moment to reappear. He was dragging the second man along behind him by the ethereal webbing.

“A very interesting rope you’ve got here,” he said, his gaze meeting mine. The blue depths were cool and distant—not a man who trusted easily, I thought. “What is it made of?”

“I couldn’t say, because it isn’t my rope.”

He raised a dark eyebrow. “Whose rope is it? And can you remove it?”

“It’s Azriel’s. And yes, he probably can.”

“Who’s Azriel? The cop at the door?” Harris asked.

“That’s no cop,” Rhoan said. “That is a reaper.”

“He is a reaper,” I corrected gently.

Rhoan glanced at me, bemusement crinkling the corners of his eyes, but all he said was, “Can he remove it so that transporting our prisoner is a little easier?”

Even as he made the request, the webbing disintegrated. The shifter groaned when his legs and arms were released, but it was a sound that became another curse as Harris quickly replaced the webbing with cuffs.

“Thanks, Azriel,” Rhoan said, then frowned. “Have you been the victim of any other recent attacks that you haven’t told us about?”

I shook my head and lied. “This is the first.”

“If there are any more, you will tell us, won’t you?”

“Of course.” It would have been stupid to do say anything else.

He relaxed a little, bending to cuff the shifter at my feet before glancing at Harris. “Let me know how the questioning goes.”

Harris nodded, then dragged the second shifter to his feet. He shoved him forward, then looked at me. “You okay there while I get this bit of scum out to the van?”

“Of course.”

“Good. I won’t be long.”

As he headed out, Rhoan kissed my cheek. “Be careful. And if you’re free tomorrow night, come around for dinner. The twins would love to see you.”

“I’ll try, but the café’s fully booked and it could be a long night.”

“I’ll let them know. They might even drop by on the way to the Blue Moon.”

“Tell them drinks are on me if they do.”

Rhoan snorted. “You could regret that.”

I grinned. Ronan—the older of the twins by a mere three minutes—and I had a long history of trying to drink each other under the table. Of course, both of us had nonhuman constitutions, so getting drunk took not only a long time, but a whole lot of patience and money.

“Take care of that wound, Ris, or Riley will have my hide.” He touched my shoulder lightly then jogged out of the room. Harris returned soon after. I watched him drag the second shifter to his feet.

“I don’t suppose you could let me know if you uncover anything about his employer?”

His gaze met mine, blue eyes glinting. “I don’t suppose you’ve double-checked with your uncle first?”

I half smiled. “I don’t suppose I have.”

“Then I’ll give him the information, and you can attempt to get it from him.”

“Fair enough. Have fun with the interrogation.”

“I always do,” he said cheerfully, then swung the panther around and pushed him toward the exit.

Azriel appeared almost immediately. “What does the note actually say?”

“I don’t know.” I pulled it from my pocket and opened it up. I quickly scanned the spidery writing, then read it out loud. “The Dušan’s book is being held by the Raziq at the underground lair where they interrogated you. At one o’clock tonight, I will arrange a diversion and draw them out. Be there to get the book.” I snorted softly and looked up at Azriel. “Like it’s going to be that easy.”

“No,” he said, obviously taking my words at face value, “it won’t. Just because the Raziq have gone doesn’t mean there won’t be Razan. And I presume our window for getting in and out will be extremely small.”

More than likely. I glanced down at the note again, then folded it up and shoved it back into my pocket. “I have no idea where the Raziq were holding me, so I hope you can find your way back there.”

“I can.”

I studied him for a moment, then said, “I’m a little surprised that you haven’t suggested you retrieve it while I remain behind.”

He raised an eyebrow. “And what would that achieve? According to your father, the Raziq have the book veiled, and only one of the blood can see it. I am not of the blood.”

“No, but you’re Mijai, and surely if anyone would be able to see through a veil, it would be you.”

“The veil could be magical rather than connected to the gray fields. And if it is, it would work on me as effectively as on anyone else.”

“Really? You saw the spell on the elevator clearly.”

“That was human magic. The Aedh are more adept at concealing their magic from us.” He shrugged. “We will have little enough time as it is, and attempting to find something that I might or might not be able to see would be foolish.”

Point taken. A glance at my watch revealed it was nearly two thirty. I wasn’t going to make Stane’s this afternoon, given I started work at three.

“Isn’t the nanowire more important at this juncture?” Azriel commented.

“Yes, but I doubt Hunter is going to come waltzing into the restaurant anytime soon. Plus, we’d never get anyone to step in for me this late.”

“Then what time do you finish this evening?”

“Eleven. Or thereabouts, depending on how busy we are. Why?”

“Because while you are working, I will scout out the tunnels the Raziq hide in.”

“Won’t they sense you?”

“Yes, but one of their Razan is allotted to die this evening. I will use that to our advantage.”

Meaning he’d follow him around like a regular reaper until the moment his death occurred. As plans went, it was pretty good. At least we’d know the lay of the land before we went in. “But won’t that piss off whatever reaper has already been assigned the job?”

He frowned. “Piss off means ‘annoy,’ does it not?” And when I nodded, he continued, “Why would you think it would annoy whoever was his previously allotted guide?”

“Well, you’re usurping his position.”

“That’s not the way it works for us. And this investigation would get priority even if it was.”

“And here I was thinking you were stuck like glue to my ass until everything was done and dusted.”

“Well, at least it is a most suitable ass to be following,” he said, and winked out of existence.

Leaving me a little speechless. What sort of compliment was “suitable”? And why the hell was he even noticing my ass anyway? Especially given his stated disinterest in the human race as a whole, and the human body in particular?

I shook my head, beginning to suspect I was never going to understand him. Then I left the locker room and made my way back to my bike, pausing only to place my promised call to Ilianna, assuring her all was okay.

The streets were crowded, so it took me longer than usual to get over to Lygon Street—and of course that meant I was late.

I jogged up the stairs to wash and change, thankful that I’d made a habit of keeping several changes of clothes at work. After grabbing an apron, I pitched in, taking orders, working the till, clearing tables— basically, just being where I was needed the most. We were busy the entire shift, and my side wasn’t the only thing aching by the time we neared the end. Of course, doing this job in stilettos was never a good idea, but the shoes were new and pretty, and sometimes that won out over sensible.

By the time Ilianna came in for her shift, we’d hit a lull and I was leaning a hip against the bar, one shoe off as I rubbed an aching heel.

“Here,” she said, stopping at the other side of the bar and delving into her bag. “I brought you this.”

She held out a little red bottle, and I grinned. Foot balm. “You’re an angel.”

She smiled. “I prefer goddess. Especially since you already have one angel in your life.”

“A very dark angel.”

“At least he’s cute.”

I raised my eyebrows. “And why are you even noticing something like that?”

“Hey, just because I bat for the other team doesn’t mean I’m incapable of appreciating a good male form. Azriel is all that and more.”

“Yeah,” I said wryly. “The more being extremely dangerous, and only here for one reason.”

She shrugged. “Which doesn’t mean we can’t appreciate the show while he’s around. Did anything happen that I need to know about?”

It took me a moment to realize she was talking about the café. “Nope. We were running around like mad, though. We might have to think about hiring more people if this keeps up.”

“Can’t be sad about that,” she said, and headed up to the changing room. I rubbed the oil into my poor feet. And then, feeling decidedly better, I counted the shift’s take. Once I’d taken it up to the safe, I clocked out, changed into jeans, a sexy purple shirt, and more sensible shoes, then headed off.

The night was cool and fresh, and filled with music and the delicious aroma of wolves having fun. I paused on the sidewalk, looking a little wistfully toward the Blue Moon. There was a line out front. Even if I was tempted, I wasn’t going to stand there for an hour or so to get in. Not after such a busy shift, and not when I was a member at Franklin’s, which didn’t have Jak Talbott—the wolf who’d used our relationship to get close to Mom and write an in-depth but somewhat fictitious story about her life—as one of their regular clients. Mom had sued the paper and him—and had won an out-of-court settlement as well as a retraction—but some mud always sticks.

I glanced at my watch and cursed softly. Given my one o’clock appointment, I really didn’t have time to go enjoy myself at any club. Maybe another night. Of course, it would be better if Lucian got back to Melbourne. Maybe I needed to give him a call, just to remind him what he was missing out on.

The thought brought a smile to my lips. I grabbed my phone and said his name as I made my way around to the secure parking lot the café shared with several other business.

As the old gates screeched open, Lucian came online and a sigh escaped me. If ever there was a man who was perfectly formed in every way imaginable, then he was it. His face was truly beautiful, though he could never be considered effeminate—there was simply too much strength, too much … manliness. Which was odd, because he wasn’t a man, but an Aedh, an energy being. His hair was golden and his eyes were the most glorious jade green. They were also so full of power that, even through the phone’s screen, it was almost impossible to look at them without flinching.

He had the look of an angel and in the past—before his golden wings had been torn off—he probably would have been mistaken for one. Because even though reapers were the true soul guides, it was the Aedh who had given rise to the angels seen in so many myths.

“Risa,” he said, his deep voice reverberating with pleasure. “I was just thinking about you.”

I grinned. “I hope you’re alone. If not, your partner might be a bit miffed to hear that.”

He laughed. “I am—unfortunately—quite alone. Yourself?”

“The same.” I gave my sigh a wistful edge. “Which is unfortunate, as you said, because I happen to be horny as hell.”

Something very primal sparked in the recesses of his eyes. “And is it your intent to torture me with this news?”

I laughed. “Totally. Either you get your butt back here, or I shall have to seek release elsewhere.”

“It is lucky, then, that I’m currently waiting to board a plane, and that I’ll be back in Melbourne by six tomorrow morning.”

I made a tsking sound. “I’m not sure that’s soon enough.”

“But if you pick me up at the airport, we could both get our ease sooner rather than later.”

“If you send me the flight details, I just might.”

He smiled, and it was a hungry thing. Heat curled through my belly, and it was difficult not to hum in pleasure. “How’s the trip been otherwise?”

“Business is always boring,” he said, “but the client is an important one, so I do what I must.”

Lucian was a financial adviser—a fairly high-profile and wealthy one, from what I could see, even though he tended to play that down. “I take it this client didn’t have any pretty secretaries?”

“Not a one,” he said solemnly, though his bright eyes danced with mirth. “I had to fill my time making good on promises.”

“Hmm,” I said. “To whom?”

“To you, lovely lady.”

“Me?” I said, surprised. “What promises have you made to me?”

“Well, I did say I’d attempt to see what I could uncover about your father. While I’ve had no luck there, I managed to discover whom the Razan known as Handberry was supposed to meet the night he was killed by the soul stealer.”

I frowned. I couldn’t actually remember mentioning Handberry to Lucian, but given everything that had happened over the past weeks, it wasn’t out of the question that I’d simply forgotten I’d done it.

Either that, or he’d gleaned the knowledge from my mind during one of our many lovemaking sessions. That was always the risk with our relationship, but not one I was overly concerned with. After all, there weren’t that many questions he could ask that I wouldn’t answer.

Still, it made me wonder if the nanowire would work against him.

“How did you discover who Handberry was supposed to meet with?”

He smiled. “A good investigator never reveals his sources, but I will note that it cost me a crate of very expensive champagne.”

My cheeks dimpled. “I shall repay in kind, if you like.”

“Oh,” he said, his voice suddenly lower and a whole lot sexier, “I intend to extract their worth in another way entirely.”

That curl of heat in my belly got stronger. I grinned. “That could take more time than either of us has in our schedule.”

“Which only makes the thought all the more delectable.”

The man was incorrigible. And insatiable. Not that I was quibbling about either. “So who was he?”

“His name is Ike Forman. According to my source, he’s a thug with pretensions. He has a very upper-class attitude, but he fights dirty.”

Upper-class …

Excitement rolled through me. It sounded very much like the man the panther had described.

Meaning I more than likely had a name for the next person up the ladder—and was one step closer to discovering who the hell was sending these things after me.