“We’ll keep it out of the papers,” Naomi promised.
But Micah shook his head, and extended a hand.
Before Bryce could so much as blink, white flame erupted around the demon and its head. Within a second, it was nothing more than ash.
Hunt started. “We needed to examine it for evidence—”
“No press,” Micah said, then turned toward a cluster of angel commanders.
The medwitch began removing her leeches and bandaging Hunt. Each of the silk strips was imbued with her power, willing the skin and muscle to knit back together and staving off infection. They’d dissolve once the wounds had healed, as if they’d never existed.
The pile of ashes still lay there, mockingly soft considering the true terror the kristallos had wrought. Had this demon been the one to kill Danika, or merely one of thousands waiting on the other side of the Northern Rift?
Was the Horn here, in this park? Had she somehow, unwittingly, come near it? Or maybe whoever was looking for it—Sabine?—simply sent the kristallos as another message. They were nowhere near Moonwood, but Sabine’s patrols took her all over the city.
The sting of the gun still bit into Bryce’s palms, its kickback zinging along her bones.
The medwitch removed her bloody gloves. A crackle of lightning at Hunt’s knuckles showed his returning power. “Thanks,” he said to the witch, who waved him off. Within a few seconds, she’d packed the poison-swollen leeches in their jars and swept behind the magi-screens.
Hunt’s stare met Bryce’s. The ashes and busy officials and warriors around them faded away into white noise.
Naomi approached, braid swaying behind her. “Why’d it target you?”
“Everyone wants to take a bite out of me,” Hunt deflected.
Naomi gave them both a look that told Bryce she didn’t buy it for one second, but moved off to talk to a Fae female in the Aux.
Hunt tried to ease to his feet, and Bryce stepped in to offer a hand up. He shook his head, grimacing as he braced a hand on his knee and rose. “I guess we hit a nerve with Sabine,” he said. “She must have figured out we’re onto her. This was either a warning like the club bombing or a failed attempt to take care of a problem like she did with the acolyte and guard.”
She didn’t answer. A wind drifted by, stirring the ashes.
“Bryce.” Hunt stepped closer, his dark eyes clear despite his injury.
“It doesn’t make any sense,” she whispered at last. “You—we killed it so quickly.”
Hunt didn’t reply, giving her the space to think through it, to say it.
She said, “Danika was strong. Connor was strong. Either one of them could have taken on that demon and walked away. But the entire Pack of Devils was there that night. Even if its venom nullified some of their powers, the entire pack could have …” Her throat tightened.
“Even Mic—” Hunt caught himself, glancing toward the Archangel still talking to commanders off to the side. “He didn’t walk away from it.”
“But I did. Twice now.”
“Maybe it’s got some Fae weakness.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so. It just … it’s not adding up.”
“We’ll lay it all out tomorrow.” Hunt nodded toward Micah. “I think tonight just proved it’s time to tell him our suspicions about Sabine.”
She was going to be sick. But she nodded back.
They waited until most of Micah’s commanders had peeled off on their various assignments before approaching, Hunt wincing with each step.
Hunt grunted, “We need to talk to you.”
Micah only crossed his arms. And then Hunt, briskly and efficiently, told him. About the Horn, about Sabine, about their suspicions. About the Horn possibly being repaired—though they still didn’t know why she’d want or need to open a portal to another world.
Micah’s eyes went from annoyed to enraged to outright glacial.
When Hunt was done, the Governor looked between them. “You need more evidence.”
“We’ll get it,” Hunt promised.
Micah surveyed them, his face dark as the Pit. “Come to me when you have concrete proof. Or if you find that Horn. If someone’s gone to so much trouble over it, there’s a damn good chance they’ve found a way to repair it. I won’t have this city endangered by a power-hungry bitch.” Bryce could have sworn the thorns tattooed across Hunt’s brow darkened as his eyes met the Archangel’s. “Don’t fuck this up for me, Athalar.” Without a further word, he flapped his wings and shot into the night sky.
Hunt blew out a breath, staring at the pile of ashes. “Prick.”
Bryce rubbed her hands over her arms. Hunt’s eyes darted toward her, noting the movement. The cold creeping over her that had nothing to do with the spring night. Or the storm that was moments from unleashing itself.
“Come on,” he said gently, rotating his injured arm to test its strength. “I think I can manage flying us back to your place.”
She surveyed the busy crew, the tracker shifters already moving off into the trees to hunt for prints before the rain wiped them away. “Don’t we need to answer questions?”
He extended a hand. “They know where to find us.”
Ruhn got to the night garden moments after his sister and Athalar left, according to Naomi Boreas, captain of the 33rd’s infantry. The take-no-shit angel had merely said both of them were fine, and pivoted to receive an update from a unit captain under her command.
All that was left of the kristallos was a burnt stain and a few sprayed drops of clear blood, like beaded rainwater on the stones and moss.
Ruhn approached a carved boulder just off the path. Squatting, he freed the knife in his boot and angled the blade toward a splash of the unusual blood clinging to some ancient moss.
“I wouldn’t do that.”
He knew that fair voice—its steady, calm cadence. He peered over his shoulder to find the medwitch from the clinic standing behind him, her curly dark hair loose around her striking face. But her eyes were upon the blood. “Its venom lies in its saliva,” she said, “but we don’t know what other horrors might be in the blood itself.”
“It hasn’t affected the moss,” he said.
“Yes, but this was a demon bred for specific purposes. Its blood might be harmless to non-sentient life, but be dangerous to everything else.”
Ruhn started. “You recognized the demon?”
The witch blinked, as if she’d been caught. “I had very old tutors, as I told you. They required me to study ancient texts.”
Ruhn rose to his feet. “We could have used you years ago.”
“I had not completed my training then.” A nonanswer. Ruhn’s brow furrowed. The witch took a step back. “I was thinking, Prince,” she said, continuing her retreat. “About what you asked me. I looked into it, and there is some potential … research. I have to leave the city for a few days to attend to a personal matter, but when I return and fully review it, I will send it to you.”
“Ruhn!” Flynn’s shout cut through the chaos of the investigatory team around them.
Ruhn glanced over a shoulder to tell his friend to wait for two gods-damned seconds, but motion from the witch caught his eye.
He hadn’t seen the broom she’d stashed beside the tree, but he certainly saw it now as she shot into the night sky, her hair a dark curtain behind her.
“Who was that?” Flynn asked, nodding toward the vanishing witch.
“I don’t know,” Ruhn said quietly, staring after her into the night.
47
The storm hit when they were two blocks from Bryce’s building, soaking them within seconds. Pain lanced through Hunt’s forearm and shoulder as he landed on the roof, but he swallowed it down. Bryce was still shaking, her face distant enough that he didn’t immediately let go when he set her upon the rain-soaked tiles.
She peered up at him when his arms remained around her waist.
Hunt couldn’t help the thumb he swept over her ribs. C
ouldn’t stop himself from doing it a second time.
She swallowed, and he tracked every movement of her throat. The raindrop that ran over her neck, her pulse pounding delicately beneath it.
Before he could react, she leaned forward, wrapping her arms around him. Held him tightly. “Tonight sucked,” she said against his soaked chest.
Hunt slid his arms around her, willing his warmth into her trembling body. “It did.”
“I’m glad you’re not dead.”
Hunt chuckled, letting himself bury his face against her neck. “So am I.”
Bryce’s fingers curled against his spine, exploring and gentle. Every single one of his senses narrowed to that touch. Came roaring awake. “We should get out of the rain,” she murmured.
“We should,” he replied. And made no move.
“Hunt.”
He couldn’t tell if his name was a warning or a request or something more. Didn’t care as he grazed his nose against the rain-slick column of her neck. Fuck, she smelled good.
He did it again, unable to help himself or get enough of that scent. She tipped her chin up slightly. Just enough to expose more of her neck to him.
Hel, yes. Hunt almost groaned the words as he let himself nuzzle into that soft, delicious neck, as greedy as a fucking vampyr to be there, smell her, taste her.
It overrode every instinct, every pained memory, every vow he’d sworn.
Bryce’s fingers tightened on his back—then began stroking. He nearly purred.
He didn’t let himself think, not as he brushed his lips over the spot he’d nuzzled. She arched slightly against him. Into the hardness that ached behind the reinforced leather of his battle-suit.
Swallowing another groan against her neck, Hunt tightened his arms around her warm, soft body, and ran his hands downward, toward that perfect, sweet ass that had tortured him since day fucking one, and—
The metal door to the roof opened. Hunt already had his gun drawn and aimed toward it as Sabine stepped out and snarled, “Back the fuck up.”
48
Hunt weighed his options carefully.
He had a gun pointed at Sabine’s head. She had a gun pointed at Bryce’s heart.
Which of them was faster? The question buzzed in his skull.
Bryce obeyed Sabine’s command, her hands raised. Hunt could only follow, stepping behind Bryce so she was up against his chest, so he could snake his free hand around her waist, pinning her against him. Could he get into the air fast enough to avoid a bullet?
Bryce wouldn’t survive a close-range shot to the heart. She’d be dead in seconds.
Bryce managed to ask over the drumming rain, “Where’s your little demon friend?”
Sabine kicked the door to the roof shut. The cameras had all been disabled, he realized. They had to be, or the legion would already be here, having been tipped off by Marrin. The feeds had to be looping on harmless footage—just as she’d done at Luna’s Temple. Which meant no one, absolutely no one, knew what was happening.
Hunt slowly began to bring his good arm up Bryce’s shaking, soaked body.
Sabine spat. “Don’t fucking think about it, Athalar.”
He stopped his arm before it could cover Bryce’s breasts—the heart beating beneath them. His battle-suit had enough armor to deflect a bullet. To let him absorb the impact. Better for him to lose an arm that he could regrow than for her to—
He couldn’t think the last word.
Sabine hissed, “I told you to stay away from this. And yet you just couldn’t listen—you had to show up at the Den, asking questions you have no right to ask.”
Bryce snarled, “We were asking those questions because you killed Danika, you fucking psycho.”
Sabine went wholly still. Nearly as still as the Fae could go. “You think I did what?”
Hunt knew Sabine wore every emotion on her face and had never once bothered to hide it. Her shock was genuine. Rain dripped off the narrow angles of her face as she seethed, “You think I killed my own daughter?”
Bryce was shaking so hard that Hunt had to tighten his grip, and she snapped, “You killed her because she was going to take your place as future Prime, you stole the Horn to undermine her, and you’ve been using that demon to kill anyone who might have seen you and to humiliate Micah before the Summit—”
Sabine laughed, low and hollow. “What utter bullshit.”
Hunt growled, “You wiped the footage of the Horn’s theft from the temple. We have it confirmed. You lied to us about Danika being there that night. And ranted about your daughter not keeping her mouth shut the night she died. All we need to prove you killed Danika is to tie you to the kristallos demon.”
Sabine lowered her gun, putting the safety back on. She trembled with barely restrained rage. “I didn’t steal anything, you stupid fucks. And I didn’t kill my daughter.”
Hunt didn’t dare lower his gun. Didn’t dare let go of Bryce.
Not as Sabine said, cold and joyless, “I was protecting her. Danika stole the Horn.”
49
“Danika didn’t steal anything,” Bryce whispered, cold lurching through her. Only Hunt’s arm around her middle kept her upright, his body a warm wall at her back.
Sabine’s light brown eyes—the same shade Danika’s had been but void of their warmth—were merciless. “Why do you think I swapped the footage? She thought the blackout would hide her, but was too dumb to consider that there might be audio still rolling that picked up each one of her disappearing footsteps as she left her post to steal the Horn, then reappeared a minute later, going back on patrol, as if she hadn’t spat in our goddess’s face. Whether she caused the blackout to steal it or if she took advantage of an opportunity, I don’t know.”
“Why would she take it?” Bryce could barely get the words out.
“Because Danika was a brat who wanted to see what she could get away with. As soon as I got the alert that the Horn had been stolen, I looked into the videos and swapped the footage on every database.” Sabine’s smile was a cruel slash. “I cleaned up her mess—just like I did for her entire life. And you two, in asking your questions, have threatened the shred of a legacy that she stands to leave.”
Hunt’s wings flared slightly. “You sent that demon after us tonight—”
Sabine’s pale brows snapped together. “What demon? I’ve been waiting for you here all night. I thought about your stupid fucking visit to my Den, and decided you needed a real reminder to stay the Hel out of this case.” She bared her teeth. “Amelie Ravenscroft is standing across the street, waiting to make the call if you step out of line, Athalar. She says you two were putting on quite the show a moment ago.” A vicious, knowing smile.
Bryce flushed, and let Hunt look to confirm. From the way he tensed, she knew it was true.
Sabine said, “And as for what I said the night she died: Danika couldn’t keep her mouth shut—about anything. I knew she’d stolen the Horn, and knew someone probably killed her for it because she couldn’t keep it quiet.” Another cold laugh. “Everything I did was to protect my daughter. My reckless, arrogant daughter. Everything you did encouraged the worst in her.”
Hunt’s growl rent the night. “Careful, Sabine.”
But the Alpha just snorted. “You’ll regret crossing me.” She strolled for the edge of the roof, her power thrumming in a faint glow around her as she assessed the same leap that Bryce had so stupidly considered a year and a half ago. Only, Sabine would be able to gracefully land on the pavement. Sabine looked back over a thin shoulder, her lengthening teeth gleaming as she said, “I didn’t kill my daughter. But if you jeopardize her legacy, I will kill you.”
And then she jumped, shifting with a soft flash of light as she went. Hunt sprinted for the edge, but Bryce knew what he’d see: a wolf landing lightly on the pavement and streaking away into the darkness.
50
Hunt didn’t realize just how badly Sabine’s bombshell had hit Bryce until the next morning. She didn’t run
. Nearly didn’t get up in time for work.
She drank a cup of coffee but refused the eggs he made. Barely said three words to him.
He knew she wasn’t mad at him. Knew that she was just … processing.
Whether that processing also had to do with what they’d done on the roof, he didn’t dare ask. It wasn’t the time. Even though he’d had to take a cold, cold shower afterward. And take matters into his own hands. It was to Bryce’s face, the memory of her scent and that breathy moan she’d made as she arched against him, that he’d come, hard enough he’d seen stars.
But it was the least of his concerns, this thing between them. Whatever it was.
Mercifully, nothing had leaked to the press about the attack in the park.
Bryce barely spoke after work. He’d made her dinner and she’d poked at it, then gone to sleep before nine. There sure as fuck were no more hugs that led to nuzzling.
The next day was the same. And the next.
He was willing to give her space. The gods knew he’d sometimes needed it. Every time he killed for Micah he needed it.
He knew better than to suggest Sabine could be lying, since there was no easier person to accuse than a dead one. Sabine was a monster, but Hunt had never known her to be a liar.
The investigation was full of dead ends, and Danika had died—for what? For an ancient artifact that didn’t work. That hadn’t worked in fifteen thousand years and never would again.
Had Danika herself wanted to repair and use the Horn? Though why, he had no idea.
He knew those thoughts weighed on Bryce. For five fucking days, she barely ate. Just went to work, slept, and went to work again.
Every morning he made her breakfast. Every morning she ignored the plate he laid out.
Micah called only once, to ask if they’d gotten proof on Sabine. Hunt had merely said, “It was a dead end,” and the Governor had hung up, his rage at the unsolved case palpable.
That had been two days ago. Hunt was still waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“I thought hunting for ancient, deadly weapons would be exciting,” Lehabah groused from where she sat on her little divan, half watching truly inane daytime television.
House of Earth and Blood (Crescent City) Page 45
