“On the way,” Ezekiel replied. “We’re losing time.”
“Oh, so now you’re in a hurry?” Gabriel asked.
“I’ll bring you back to your precious bartender for more playtime later. I promise.”
Gabriel didn’t even blink. “That’s not what I meant to imply.”
“I know.” Ezekiel’s grin was devilish in nature and so very appropriate. “Either follow me or don’t. But you will be helping whether you like it or not.” He tossed a large bill beside his empty glass and turned toward the exit without a backward glance.
Well. Gabriel could choose not to play this game and wait for his supposed involvement, or he could follow the Ichorian.
Right.
He’d sat here long enough waiting. Might as well see what the assassin had in mind.
Gabriel added to the funds on the bar top and started after the Ichorian.
“Stark!” Becky called as he reached the door.
He turned with an eyebrow arched, and she gave him an exasperated look. “Yes?” he asked.
“Ugh, never mind,” she huffed, her hands on her hips.
What did she expect? A kiss goodbye? Promises of tomorrow?
He snorted. Not going to happen. He didn’t bother to wave before joining a smirking Ezekiel on the sidewalk. The Ichorian shook his head slowly and laughed. “We’ll have to work on that, mate.”
“On what?”
Ezekiel started walking. “Your manners.”
“My manners are fine,” he replied as he strolled along beside him.
“Not by human standards.”
“I’m not human.”
“Clearly.” Ezekiel turned in to the same alley they departed from before and held out his hand. “You’ll need my assistance this time.”
“How does your ability work?” Gabriel wondered, neither accepting nor denying his request. “You track by blood and then mist there?”
“I essentially wrap myself in shadows and move with them to wherever the essence I desire exists. It doesn’t necessarily need to be blood, though that is how I track breathing beings. I can also trace to a location of my choosing, similar to teleporting, if someone I’m tracking is nearby. That’s how I located you that first day near the CRF.”
Similar to Araceli’s line of tracking genes. All the Ichorians and Hydraians possessed gifts similar to the various Seraphim families. Gabriel didn’t quite follow the genetics, but it was clear that Osiris’s gift of life altered the human genome upon rebirth and triggered hidden talents.
Gabriel reached for Ezekiel’s hand. “Let’s go.”
“Brilliant.”
Blackness swarmed Gabriel’s vision for a few seconds, then disappeared to reveal a balcony overlooking a black sand beach. A white-walled home with a bright blue roof sat off to the right, a pool rested below, and a hill dotted with similarly styled houses stood on the left. “We’re in Hydria,” he realized, recognizing the Greek architecture. “Why?”
“Me,” a voice said softly behind him.
Gabriel turned to find a dark-skinned man standing awkwardly inside, his posture rigid. His dark gaze lifted to Ezekiel, uncertainty radiating from him.
“Owen,” the Ichorian greeted with a grin. “You really need to loosen up. If I wanted you dead, you would be.”
“You’re notorious for playing with your victims before slaughtering them,” the young Hydraian pointed out. “Forgive me for not trusting you.”
