Archangel's Shadows

35

Janvier didn’t sleep for the ten hours that Ash was out, motionless and so deep in her mind that the life of her was a muted shadow. She finally stirred as the city was awakening, the high-rises wreathed in mist and coated with a light layer of snow he’d watched fall an hour before through the sliding doors off her bedroom.

Stretching against him, she made a sound in the back of her throat. He imagined it was his name, knew he was fooling himself. But then she turned to nuzzle his throat. “I knew it was you, cher.” A sleepy, drowsy statement.

Janvier wanted to smile, to tease her in delight about his name being the first word on her lips, but he couldn’t stop the convulsive shudder that shook his body, his arms locking around her.

“Shh.” Wiggling until she could get both arms around his neck, Ash held him to her in a bruising grip that still wasn’t tight enough for him. “I’m sorry,” she said, rubbing her cheek against the roughness of his. “I didn’t know that was going to happen.”

He couldn’t speak, the hand that had been choking him for the past ten excruciating hours slow to release its punishing grasp.

Ash continued to murmur apologies, pressing soft, unexpected kisses along his temple and jaw. “Mujhe maaf kardo na, cher.”

The private, intimate intermixing of language, it broke through the icy fear, made the choke hold ease, his breath no longer jagged rocks in his lungs. Shifting to brace himself on one forearm, he thrust a hand into her hair. “What did I tell you about apologies?”

He’d never forget those ten endless hours, but neither would he forget her dazzling, sinful smile as she said, “I’m not sleepy anymore.”

Naked joy in his blood, he hauled her up over him, her unbound hair creating a curtain of black silk around their faces as they drank one another in. “Where did you come from?” Ash whispered in the hushed space. “I wasn’t looking for you.”

“Are you planning to throw me back?”

“Never.”

The single empathetic word was better than any flowery declaration of love.

Coming down, she rested her head on his heart, not disputing his right to run his fingers through her hair. “I can’t remember what I said in the hospital. Did I tell you about the peanuts?”

“You tried to say something, but you didn’t complete your sentence.”

“Damn.” She jerked up into a sitting position. “Lilli told m—” A pause, her voice ragged and her hands fisted to bloodless tightness as she said, “That was her name. Lilli Ying.”

“I won’t forget.” He couldn’t take the agony of her gift from her, but he could help her carry the names of the lost. “What did Lilli say?”

“That she could smell peanuts during her captivity and that the space where she was held was a large one.”

Squelching his need to continue to hold her, Janvier grabbed his phone. “I’ll get the computer teams on to creating a list of possible locations.”

“Good.” She thrust her fingers through her hair, pushing it back from her face. “I’ll update Sara, then I’m going to shower.”

He watched her swing out of bed, sway on her feet. He was beside her with vampiric speed, but she held out a hand. “Give me a sec.”

Stretching carefully, she said, “I’m a little light-headed, but I’ve felt like this before. Lots of liquids, a bit of protein, and I’ll be fine.” Clouds darkened her expression. “It’s Felicity who needs our help. Lilli’s gone, but I don’t think Felicity is.” She rubbed a fist over her heart, her eyes pools of shadow that saw into another realm. “We need to give her justice, give her peace.”

It took Janvier a few short minutes to shower and change into fresh clothes after they arrived at his Tower apartment. Deciding to wait for him since there’d been no word from the computer teams yet, Ashwini took in the breathtaking view of the city through the floor-to-ceiling span of his living room windows.

Wonder unfurled in her when she caught sight of an angel gliding down inches from the windows, his wings spread to their full breadth. Those wings were so bright as to hurt the eye, diamond dust sprinkled on every filament.

Aodhan.

No matter how much darkness she saw in the immortal world, there was no doubting the splendor of angelic flight—the angels’ physical beauty was less intriguing to her than their skill and grace in the air. Aodhan angled out of sight the same instant Janvier stepped out of his bedroom, hair damp and jaw shaved. Both their phones vibrated right then, the computer teams having compiled a preliminary list.

Taking a bottle of blood from his fridge, Janvier led her down to the Tower’s dedicated tech floor.

“Why are you drinking budget blood?” she asked with a laugh after seeing the label: Blood-for-Less.

He shot her a minatory look. “You know why.”

“Sucking up to the boss’s consort?” Ashwini set her face into lines of mock disappointment. “I thought better of you.”

“Very funny. I’m being supportive.” Scowling, he drank half the bottle. “None of us want Elena’s first business venture to go down in flames. And anyway,” he said a little defensively, “this is a bottle of their premium line.”

“Right.” Delighted at the idea of all these tough Tower vamps throwing their weight behind a fledgling blood café, she rose up on her toes and pressed her lips to his jaw. His devastating smile was her reward . . . and if it lit the candle of guilt inside her, she snuffed it out just as quickly.

Full throttle. That was the promise they’d made to each other, and it was a promise she would keep. To live for today, for him, and not always in anticipation of the awful mental degeneration that awaited in her future.

They walked into tech central seconds later. The Guild techs were already patched in, the two teams having been working together to create the list of locations. Illium and Dmitri were both at a big glass table in the center and waved them over. “I’ve spoken to the Guild Director,” Dmitri said when they reached the table. “She’s putting together teams that will assist ours in clearing the possible locations.”

“We have ten so far.” Illium pointed out the Xs on the map on the table. “Six of them are peripheral—either because the scent would’ve faded long ago or because of their distance from the city. Places like boarded-up movie theaters and old factories.”

“If you’re right about the perpetrator being arrogant and smug,” Janvier said to Ashwini, “and I think you are, then he would want a place he could control. His castle.”

“Something appropriate to his wealth and image of himself.” Ashwini couldn’t see him being satisfied with a musty old theater or a factory unless he’d upgraded it inside. “Any sign the six were renovated anytime in the past five years?” she asked, knowing they had to cast a wide net—there was no knowing how long the bastard had been doing this. Even five years could be too small a window, but they had to start somewhere.

Illium told the computer experts to see what they could dig up on that point, then moved on to the four remaining properties.

“This one here,” he said, pointing to an X in Harlem, his wings held tightly to his back in an astonishing fall of color, “was a restaurant that shut up shop three months ago.”

“Their gimmick,” Dmitri continued, “was to give all the patrons a free miniature jar of handmade peanut butter.”

Ashwini remembered the place—she’d gone once with Demarco. The food had been terrible. Even peanut butter couldn’t save it. “Three months is too short a window unless the abuse began elsewhere.”

“What about these two?” Janvier pressed his fingers to twin Xs not far from the port where Raphael had blasted and sunk a ship full of Lijuan’s infectious reborn.

“Warehouses with the same owner.” Illium’s golden eyes gleamed. “Giorgio.”

Ashwini’s skin prickled, but she knew they couldn’t rush to judgment. Too many of the older immortals enjoyed pleasure that was perverse to anyone who possessed an ounce of humanity. But the hairs were rising on the back of her neck, the image of Giorgio’s “perfect” brainwashed harem front and center. The man was a master manipulator.

Good enough to string along vulnerable women who wanted to believe in hope.

“The warehouses are in active use,” Dmitri added, “but the computer searches picked up an interesting fact—they’re consistently only being used to half their capacity.”

Ashwini folded her arms. “So one could be empty?”

“Or one is in full use, the second only utilized enough to provide cover for other movements in and out,” Janvier pointed out. “The extra space could’ve been made into a grotesque ‘playroom.’”

It made an ugly kind of sense. Why risk hiding the women in a residential area when the warehouse and port district had enough ongoing noise to provide cover for any screams in the daytime? As for the night—aside from the odd security guard, the area would be deserted. Giorgio could have redone the interior or a part of it to his standards before moving his captives in.

A perfect prison within relatively short reach of his Vampire Quarter residence.

“Does he import nuts or items that would have the scent?” Janvier asked, the tension across his shoulders telling her his instincts were shouting exactly the same things as her own.

“Yes.” Dmitri brought up a manifest on a tablet, handed it over. “He’s not the only one who imports such goods, but the other shipments are all stored in warehouses shared between multiple companies.”

“And this last?” Putting the manifest down on the table, Janvier tapped the final X.

“A midsized factory that packaged peanuts. Shut down a year ago and left boarded up by the owners.” He brought up images of the four properties on a part of the glass table that Ashwini belatedly realized wasn’t a simple table at all. “The factory also has enough space that your killer could’ve set up a private room inside—and Khalil was one of the financiers behind the venture.”

Janvier hissed at the sadistic vampire’s name, but shook his head. “We check the factory out, but I say it’s Giorgio. Khalil is vicious, evil at times, but he’s never been this sly.”

Yes, she thought, that was the right word. There was a cruel slyness about it all, a sense that the monster had been laughing at his victims; such meanness fit Giorgio with his shiny new house, false bonhomie, and herd of devoted cattle. And there was something else, something she’d seen and forgotten, something important.

She heard Dmitri speak again, mention that Trace had found a dead drug dealer in the same general area, a man who’d been dealing Umber. It was a coincidence too good to be true. But that wasn’t what held her attention, what occupied her mind.

Felicity was whispering to her.

What she had to say changed everything.

“The watch!” Violent anger tore through her, made her voice shake. “Janvier, when we interviewed Giorgio, the bastard was wearing the watch Felicity bought him!” It hadn’t registered at the time except as part of his entire getup. “He was taunting us even then.”

Janvier’s response was a stream of Cajun-flavored cursing that turned the air blue.

Things moved at rapid-fire speed after that. Dmitri authorized them to use whatever force was necessary to bring Giorgio in and rescue any other hostages. Illium and a mixed angelic/Legion squadron would provide aerial backup. Meanwhile, Dmitri would coordinate with Sara to clear the other possible properties, on the slim chance that Giorgio wasn’t the killer.

Ashwini was used to working alone for the most part, but she had no problem being on a team. Especially when the core of that team was made up of her, Janvier, and Naasir. They knew one another’s rhythms, could predict split-second decisions with near-total accuracy and make the necessary course corrections.

Now, the three of them made their way to the suspicious warehouses while another unit cleared Giorgio’s house. If he was there, they’d take him into custody. Ashwini didn’t care about that at this instant—she wanted the bastard to pay, but her first priority was to rescue any other women he’d caged.

Leaving the car some distance away in order to maintain stealth—the one thing they did not want was for Giorgio to murder his victims in a fit of rage—the three of them went onward on foot. “Up,” she said to the two men.

Grinning, Naasir jumped onto a rooftop with a feral grace that was magnetic. But not as compelling to her eyes as Janvier’s fluid leap up. She made the motion for “Go” and they headed onward. The two would take Naasir’s lower skyroad, while she’d go in on the ground, and their aerial backup would drop down from above the cloud layer on their signal.

She tugged down the ball cap under which she’d hidden her hair after dirtying up her face, made sure her battered and patched sunglasses were on her nose, and slouched forward with her hands in the pockets of her raggedy black coat. A young vampire at the Tower had dug up the ankle-length piece out of God knew where.

On her feet were sneakers as ragged. She hated being without her boots, but they were the thing that most often gave people’s true motives away, especially hunters and military types. It was something Saki had taught her soon after her admittance into the Guild.

Shoes and wristwatches, that’s where folks slip up.

So she slouched along, just another street person looking for a place to get out of the cold, pitiful and not the least bit intimidating. When she reached the first warehouse, she made as if to see if she could get around the back and, when that proved impossible, tried the door, muttering nonsense under her breath for effect.

The door was wrenched open from within, the muscle-bound vampire on the other side dressed in a navy suit sans tie, his complexion so white it was eerie. “Git!” He shoved at her shoulder with bruising force, while another body moved in the shadows behind him. “Out! Pestilent vermin.”

Allowing herself to stumble and fall to the concrete frontage swept clean of snow, she held out hands clad in holey gloves. “S-sorry. Sorry. Didn’t know it was occupied.”

The door slammed shut.

Pushing up to her feet, hands over her ears as she rocked, she tried the same thing at the next warehouse, this time more furtively, giving the appearance that she was afraid of being caught again. No response this time, and she picked up not even a hint of sound.

Going with her gut, she said, “First warehouse,” into the tiny microphone attached to the collar of her coat. “Two vampire guards that I saw, armed with guns and possibly knives.” Retrieving her gun from a coat pocket, the silencer already on, she held it in one hand; the coat’s sleeves were long enough to conceal the weapon. “I didn’t hear or see anything to suggest a bigger contingent, but there could be more toward the back.”

Naasir’s voice came through the receiver in her ear. “I will listen.” A minute later. “I hear male laughter, movement, but it is small. No more than two or three.”

Another voice followed Naasir’s. “Giorgio,” Dmitri said, “is not at his home or at any of his known haunts. His cattle are accounted for except for the one named Brooke. She left with him around three a.m.”

Ashwini’s blood ran hot. There was a good chance the bastard was inside the warehouse and he probably had Brooke with him. Not only had she tarnished his name, but her actions had drawn Tower attention; it may have been enough to make Giorgio break pattern and attack a woman who could be linked back to him.

“Give us a minute,” she said to Dmitri and Illium both, then she signaled to Janvier and Naasir.

Quiet as ghosts, the two men whispered across the roof to jump down behind the target warehouse, while she shuffled her way back to the front. Hesitating and mumbling to give them enough time to get in position, she surreptitiously undid her coat to expose the thin T-shirt she wore underneath before knocking on the door.