Tonight, for the first time in a long while, he had experienced the kindling of a little thing called hope. And the reason at the core of this new emotion had sent him away. She had waved him off as inconsequential, perhaps too wrapped up in a mystery of her own to let a stranger share in that mystery.
He hadn’t gotten one straight answer from her, and he had so many questions.
Why the tattoo?
Why wings?
Chances were good that she wouldn’t help him out of this quandary, not if they met again, but when they did. Because he had every intention of seeing her again. In fact, he wasn’t going to let her out of his sight completely, in case she used some of that power to disappear.
“Why the kiss, and why would you allow it? Distraction? Moment of weakness? Attraction? Are you as interested in me, as I am in you?”
Given that she could hear at least some of his thoughts and remarks, maybe she’d hear those whispered words. She hadn’t gone away. Not yet. Weird as it was, he was able to see the light particles that stuck around this pale vision like the shadows stuck to the street. From where he stood, it was easy to see the faint glow on the roofline.
She was there, all right. She hadn’t gone away.
Other things that hid beneath the cover of darkness were moving in and around the square now, as predicted. Most of the creatures in the supernatural world that moved with unnatural speed left a noticeable residue behind in the infrared spectrum. Rhys supposed that he also left that kind of trail. Not the pure, shimmering white of starlight, like hers, though. Seems every damn thing about her was unique, as was his growing need to get to the bottom of her appearance in London.
He had no idea what caused the inner light she wielded and doubted if anyone else did, either. Not anyone living, anyway. As he had told her, some mention of it would have reached him if anyone had gotten wind of that.
The dead were another matter needing consideration. As he had feared, news of the woman he’d kissed under the streetlight must have spread. He sensed the creatures coming. London’s vampires might also have seen the light this newcomer projected and been attracted to it.
Being stuck underground most of the time, the dark side probably hungered for light of any kind, including the shine of the Divine. And in some small way, the woman he had met tonight did exhibit a few Divine qualities. Her fake wings might have made her believe she actually was Divine.
She hadn’t wanted to leave him back on that street. At least he knew that much.
Rhys’s awareness picked up a sudden foreshadowing of the future. His sigils were aching. Energy pulsed through the tentacles of inky symbols on the back of his neck, urging him to turn his head.
This was a sturdy reminder that there was a war on, and that more abominations prowled the area nearby. He was needed to help defray the aftereffects of that war and had to resume his post.
But he was torn.
The light on that rooftop was a heady draw and nearly impossible to resist. She, whose name he still didn’t know, was equally impossible to forget.
“Monsters first,” Rhys whispered, hoping he’d actually believe it, because chaos would rain down if humans became aware of what resided in the shadows. For them, ignorance was bliss, as long as somebody in those same shadows took the monsters to task.
He had been that somebody for a very long time.
“So, what do you use your power for?” he asked the empty space next to him, wishing the leather-clad angel wannabe was standing there. Her exemplary fighting skills, seen firsthand tonight, could have helped London’s mortal population. The sheer number of scars on her body told him she’d been in many skirmishes. She hadn’t shied away from facing vamps tonight.
Studying the roofline above him, Rhys felt more confused than ever. The light up there had dimmed.
“Maybe you’re a fallen star in human form? As if that were possible?”
Thoughts sputtered as he perceived another disturbance in the night.
He searched the roofline.
The slightest ripple in the dark suggested to him that her light had not faded on its own, and that his angel had company on that rooftop. Noticeable in the breeze rustling the hem of his coat was a sulfurous odor of rust and freshly overturned earth.
Growls of anger erupted from Rhys’s throat. Without considering how many times she had told him to go away, he reached for the ledge above him with both hands and put his boot to the brick.
* * *
“Come out,” Avery taunted, aware of what was heading her way. “I’m in no mood for playing hide-and-seek.”
Her company on the rooftop was a Shade, the ghostly leftover of a nasty human whose afterlife had never been set straight. Unlike true ghosts, Shades could do great harm to the unsuspecting. Like some kinds of Reapers, they sucked the life from their victims for revenge over their own damned fates. They were also cleanup crews for the vampires, picking at leftovers. Otherworldly vultures.
And they had pretty good hearing. As the shadowy form slithered over the lip of the roof tiles, Avery welcomed it with a wry smile.
Gliding on feet that didn’t actually touch the ground, the bugger kept to the dark areas cast over the rooftop by the higher floors of the building beside theirs. It was ironic that Shades preferred shade.
“What do you want here?” Avery fingered the blade that could do this creeper some damage if she found the right spot, despite the creature’s haziness.
“Speak up.”
“Come with me.” The response was high-pitched and could have been either a male or female voice.
“I’m busy at the moment. So, no, thanks.”
“Important,” the Shade suggested, halting where moonlight met the mildewed slate tiles.
“Everything is important these days,” Avery said.
“I know what you seek, pale one.”
“Doubtful, since it has nothing to do with your kind.”
“You speak folly and understand nothing about what’s been entrusted to us.”
Avery’s index finger slid along the razor-sharp edge of her blade. She closely observed the Shade’s reaction to the scent of blood. The thing wasn’t a vampire, and therefore not fueled by hemoglobin, but the odor it gave off told her it had been in a musty vampire den recently. Things like bloodlust tended to rub off on those who frequented dark places.
Drops of blood beaded on her skin, its whiteness nearly invisible to the naked eye. Smelling it, the shadowy creature leaned forward, nearly taking a step that would have solidified its outline in the moon’s light—bright light avoidance was one thing these guys had in common with the bloodsucker population. But it held back.
“We know what you seek,” the Shade said, teetering on the brink of pushing its luck with her. “We have news of such a thing. I can show you.”
“Really?” another voice called out in Avery’s place. “I wonder what that thing might be, Shade.”
Avery looked past the creature rapidly backing into the shadows. Her formidable Blood Knight, now calling himself Rhys, had returned and stood with his dagger in his hand, looking every bit like the legends of old had come to life. Formidable. Intimidating to all who might stand against him.
Avery’s nerves pinged. Her heart rate soared, as did her pounding pulse. She had known the Knight would find her if she didn’t get a move on. So why hadn’t she tried