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Marshall sucked in a breath. “So kill her.”
I snorted. “If it was that easy, I wouldn’t be here.”
He grunted in acknowledgment of my point. “Jerry Harcourt was the vamp just in there. He rents a room in Lyle Place boardinghouse—it’s only a few minutes down the road.”
Which meant we’d better hurry if we wanted to set our trap. “Thanks.”
“Do you need me to do anything?” Marshall asked.
If he could have done anything, I very much doubted we’d have been called in. But I just said, “No. Just ensure that he leaves, and we’ll do the rest.”
“Righto.”
As the screen returned to the image of the bloodstained room, I swung around to face Azriel. “Will this work?”
He shrugged. “As I have said before, I’ve never hunted a Rakshasa. I’m told they can be extremely difficult kills.”
And this one was killing people who deserved to die—a fact that didn’t make going after her any easier. But since it was my life or hers, there was really no other choice.
“Then we’d better get over there and set our trap.” And if the trap didn’t work, then we hunted it back to its lair. I shivered, and hoped like hell it didn’t come to that. Not if the Rakshasa was feeding more than just herself.
Azriel held out a hand. I placed my hand in his and let him pull me into his embrace. It felt so warm and safe that I wanted to cry. Or maybe that was just a reaction of the bitter anguish that still echoed inside my head.
His energy surged, and in an instant the room disappeared and we were zipping through the gray fields. The room we reappeared in was dark and smelled faintly of urine and booze. Obviously, vampire Jerry did not live in one of your more up-market boarding establishments.
Azriel immediately stepped away and moved to one corner of the room. He raised his hands and paced the walls, murmuring softly. The words were lyrical and easy on the ear, but there was a dark undercurrent to the energy that swirled around and through his voice, and foreboding crawled down my spine. It somehow seemed wrong for such darkness to be coming from beings who were warmth and light.
He continued walking around the room. Mist formed behind him, becoming luminous tendrils that crawled up the walls and across the ceiling, until the soft, glowing, ethereal net of silver covered every compass point as well as the floor and ceiling. When the circuit was complete, the net locked together, then faded. But the power of it remained, making the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
“Won’t the Rakshasa feel the energy and run?” I asked, rubbing my arms and trying to ignore my growing sense of unease.
Azriel shook his head. “The vampire, however, will sense your presence in this room, so you cannot remain here.”
I frowned. “I’m supposed to bring the Rakshasa down, not you.”
He smiled and drew Valdis. She glowed with a fierceness that lit the sparse room. “The end result will be the same. Besides, how is the council to know who actually killed the creature? We don’t have our follower when we shift via the fields, remember.”
That was true. I bit my lip, but for once did the sensible thing—if only because I really didn’t have the skill, the knowledge, or the desire to actually fight a spirit creature. “Is there an apartment nearby where I can wait?”
He hesitated, then nodded. “The room across the hall has no one in it.”
“That’s where I’ll wait.” I half turned, then hesitated. “Be careful, Azriel. Enough blood has been spilled already tonight.”
He smiled, suddenly closer even though I hadn’t seen him move. “I have Valdis, and I am well used to dealing with dark creatures.” He raised a hand and cupped my cheek. “But I appreciate the concern.”
Then he kissed me. It was little more than lips brushing, but it resonated through every part of my being, stirring me in ways I couldn’t even begin to describe.
“Go,” he said eventually, his voice tight. As if he’d been as affected as I was.
I forced myself to move away, although all I really wanted to do was step into his arms and chase the promise in that kiss.
I closed the door behind me, but hesitated in the hallway, listening to the silence and drawing in the air, trying to get a feel for who or what lived in this complex. I had no idea what Azriel’s net would do, but the last thing we needed was one of Jerry’s neighbors deciding to run to the rescue. Though to be honest, it looked like the sort of complex where the inhabitants were more likely to help themselves than one another.
The air out here was as unpleasant as it was in Jerry’s room. The aromas of booze, age, and urine were entrenched, as were the threads of unwashed humanity. If there were other non-humans in this complex, they didn’t live on this floor. I couldn’t hear much in the way of activity in any of the nearby rooms, either, but that could have been a result of the late hour rather than no one being home.
Which meant, hopefully, I could break into the room opposite and no one would notice. Or care. I did just that, and caught the door with my fingertips before it could crash back against the wall. I stood there for several heartbeats, my breath caught in my throat as I listened for any sign that someone had heard and intended to investigate.
No one did. I sighed in relief, then shut the door and turned to study the room. It was fresher—and cleaner—than Jerry’s, and possessed more in the way of furniture. The room’s inhabitant was obviously intent on making himself comfortable, whereas Jerry seemed only to have the basics. But then, the addicted rarely cared for anything other than their next hit.
