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It was no surprise she’d said that—she knew me better than most. “If it was Riley who’d been murdered,” I said softly, “wouldn’t you react the same?”
“The difference is,” he snapped, “I’m a trained guardian. You’re not.”
“No, but I’ve been taught to fight by two of the best, I’m not without means of protecting myself aside from that, and I have a reaper following me about who needs to keep me alive.”
He grunted. Whether that meant he was finally accepting my continuing pursuit of both Nadler and my mom’s murderer was anyone’s guess. “Okay, I’ve pinpointed your location. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” He hesitated, then added, “Do not go back into that house until I arrive.”
“I won’t.” I hung up and glanced at Azriel. “No matter what you think of Lucian, he can’t have been involved in this. I haven’t seen him, haven’t talked to him since last night, and even if he could read my thoughts, he wouldn’t have had time to get down here before Jak or me.”
“All of which is true,” Azriel commented. “That does not, however, change my opinion that he is involved in all this somehow.”
“You,” I said flatly, “are annoyingly pigheaded.”
“Perhaps it is the company I keep that makes me so.”
I snorted and waved a hand at Jak. “You’d better release him.”
“Do you wish me to update his memories to include your ringing the Directorate?”
I nodded. Azriel touched Jak lightly and energy swirled, whispering through me like a sweet autumn breeze.
Then he dropped his hand and met my gaze again. “And just to be clear,” he said, his voice even but a teasing light suddenly gleaming in his eyes, “I am not as immune to the virtues of that top as you believe.”
And with that, he disappeared again, leaving me shaking my head and smiling like an idiot.
“Care to share the joke?” Jak said dryly.
I glanced at him. “Sorry, just something my uncle said.”
“Your uncle the guardian, I gather we’re talking about?”
“Yeah.” I put my phone away. “To say he was rather surprised to discover I’m working with you on this is something of an understatement.”
Worry crossed his face. “He didn’t threaten violence, did he?”
“No.” I studied him for a moment. “Has he before?”
Jak cleared his throat and looked a little uncomfortable. “You could say that.”
“Really? When?”
“The first time when I wrote that story on your mom; the second when we broke up. He can be a very scary man, you know.”
“He is a guardian.” I said that a little too cheerfully, if Jak’s darkening expression was anything to go by. “But the threats can’t have been too bad. I mean, not only are you still alive, but you walked away from them intact.”
“Only because I swore on my mother’s grave not to do another report on your mother, and to keep well away from you. The latter of which I am obviously not doing.”
I patted his arm comfortingly. “Because we all know the story means more to you than the threat. And don’t worry—Uncle Rhoan knows I contacted you, not the other way around.”
“Doesn’t mean he won’t be pissed,” he muttered, then plopped down on the step. “How long will they be?”
I sat down beside him and glanced at my watch. “About thirteen minutes.”
As it turned out, they arrived in eight. Or at least Uncle Rhoan did—it seemed he’d beaten all land speed records to get here.
He came through the gate, a crime scene kit slung over one shoulder. His gray eyes swept the two of us critically. “You haven’t been inside?”
I shook my head. “Other than the initial entry when we found the body, no.”>Chapter 9
