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Holy shit… He really had got his vengeance. “How the hell are you even still alive?”
I might not know a whole lot about the reaper world, but I did know that sort of action was out of bounds unless it was ordered by whoever was in charge of the Mijai. Or dark angels, as they sometimes called themselves.
“It was a close decision,” he said softly. “And I am still paying for my actions, even as a Mijai.”
“So your becoming a Mijai, and then being assigned to follow me, is part of that punishment?”
“Yes.”
No wonder he’d been so hostile at the beginning of all this. “So when this assignment is over, will you be forgiven?”
“I doubt it. My sin was great. My penance will be a long one.”
I eyed him for a moment, suspecting there was more to his punishment than what he was admitting. “And you don’t care, do you?”
“I care that I will never again be a guide. Beyond that, no.”
Because he’d avenged his friend. And to think I’d once thought this reaper wasn’t capable of emotion.
I lifted my cup, then paused, the coffee washing warmth across my lips. There was another odd glimmer in the shadows behind Azriel. It definitely wasn’t smoke from the deep fryers or anything like that, because it was stationary under the vents. Steam would have been sucked out.
What? His voice slipped into my mind as smoothly as dark silk.
I think we have company.
Where? He didn’t move, but blue fire began to flicker across Valdis’s sharp edges, a sure sign that sword and master were ready for action.
It’s behind you.
His eyes narrowed a little, and power slithered through the air. His, not that of whatever it was behind him. It is neither a ghost nor a day walker—although there is one in the room.
I raised my eyebrows. Day walker?
The spirit of one who has left his living body to roam this world.
Ah. An astral traveler. So what about those shimmers of silver I keep seeing?
Those, he said, his mind voice flat, are Ania.
I had no idea what that was—other than that it wasn’t of this world—but right now there was a more important question. Why didn’t you sense them before I did?
He hesitated. My concentration was wholly on you rather than on our surrounds. It is a mistake I shall endeavor not to repeat.
Considering all the mistakes I’d made over the past few weeks, I could hardly grumble at his one brief lapse in concentration—and it was oddly gratifying that I was the cause of it. I frowned at the shimmer still standing in the shadows behind him. What is an Ania?
The ancient Greeks gave them the name—it means, literally, the female personification of trouble.
Which doesn’t exactly tell me what they are. Or why they’d be here in this café, closing in on us.
Ania are demons. They can be summoned to perform a number of tasks, including harassment, assault, and murder. He paused. It is unusual to see them in great numbers. They are normally solitary beings.
Two is hardly what I’d term great numbers. And given the size of the shimmers I’d seen, as demons went, they seemed to be on the small side.
There are at least six here, and size is not an indicator of dangerousness when it comes to demons, he chided softly. Ania are rarely seen outside the dark realm. They are hard to summon and harder to control.
So they’re not the type of demon that breaks through the portals of their own accord?
No. His expression was grim as it met mine. Whoever summoned them has been able to do so simply because the strength of the portals has been weakened.
