Angels' Blood (Guild Hunter #1)(83)

"How many?" She stared at the back of his head as if she could force him to speak. "One a year?"

He met her eyes in the window's dusky reflection as she came to stand behind him. "No."

Biting back her frustration, she moved around to lean against the glass so they were face-to-face. "You're obviously very good at covering the tracks of the bloodborn-humans don't even have legends about this."

"In most cases, the victims alone learned the truth-and they did so minutes before their deaths."

"That makes me feel extra special." She found herself tracing the delicate gold edging of a feather near his biceps. "Tell me-these bloodborn, is it a madness they're born with?"

A sweep of sinfully rich lashes against skin she'd kissed not so long ago. "We all carry the potential to become bloodborn."

Startled at the straight answer, she dropped her hand. "What, no warnings about too much knowledge?"

"You already know too much." A smile that hinted at age, at ruthlessness, at things better left unimagined. "It's good you've come to my bed. No one will dare touch my lover."

"Too bad immortals have such fleeting interests." The cold of the glass at her back was beginning to seep into her bones, but she didn't move. "Since I already know so much, tell me why an angel turns vampire."

His face closed over. "You're still human."

She barely restrained the urge to kick him. "I'm also a hunter tracking an archangel. You pulled me into this. Give me the tools I need to fight."

"Your job is to find Uram. It's your ability we need."

We. The Cadre of Ten.

"How am I supposed to do that job if you insist on hobbling me?" It took extreme effort to keep her temper. "The more I know about the target, the better I am at predicting his movements!"

He traced a finger over her cheek. "Do you know why Illium lost his feathers?"

"Because you were in a bad mood?" She blew out a frustrated breath. "Stop trying to change the subject."

"Because," Raphael said, ignoring her order, "he bespoke our darkest truth to a human." The way he said that, the language, made it impossible to ignore his age, his immortality.

Captured despite herself, she asked, "What happened to the mortal?"

"We took her memories." He cupped her cheek. "And Illium was forbidden from speaking to her ever again."

"Did he love her?"

"Perhaps." His face said that that didn't matter. "He watched over her for the rest of her days, knowing she no longer knew him. Is that love?"

"Don't you know?"

"I've seen love defined a thousand ways over the centuries. There is no constant." He stared at her, his own face expressionless. "If Illium loved his mortal, then he was a fool. She's been dust for centuries."

"Heartless," she whispered, sensing the warmth of the rising sun at her back. How long had they stood here that the fading edge of night had turned to dawn? "Couldn't you have allowed him a lifetime with the woman he loved?"

"No." Sharp, clean lines, a face without mercy. "For if one mortal knows, soon another will. You have little concept of secrecy."

Elena saw in his absolute statement, her future. "Not my memories," she reminded him. "Hunt me to ground if it comes to that, but don't you dare take my memories."

"You'd rather die?"

"Yes."

"So be it."

Her blood fired at the finality of those three short words, knowing he'd spoken them as a vow. "You do realize that to kill me, you'll have to catch me."

His smile held the cool arrogance of a man who knew exactly how dangerous he was. "It'll break the ennui of age."

She snorted and glanced outside. "Rain's stopped. I'll go out, see if I can pick up a trail in case Uram didn't spend the night in Stupor."

"Eat first." He moved back. "We never stopped running search patterns-if he'd killed again, I would've heard by now."

Feeling jittery but knowing she'd do better with some nourishment, she agreed. "I'll grab something quick."

"Will you begin your search at Michaela's?"

"Might as well. If he is up and around, he'll probably come by to visit her. There's-" Something rang in a familiar pattern. "Damn, where did I put it?"

"Here." Raphael picked her cell phone out of the clothing she'd thrown over the small bag that held her stuff. "Catch."

"Thanks." One glance at the caller display was enough to make her stomach churn. "Hello, Jeffrey." She wondered what her father would say if she told him she was standing in a room with a half-naked archangel. Probably ask her to strike a deal while said archangel was befuddled with sex.

Looking at the profile of Raphael's highly intelligent face as he switched on a laptop she hadn't noticed until then, she felt her lips curve in a tight grin. "What is it?" The urge to hang up was a pounding need in her blood, but she'd gnaw off her own arm before she allowed Jeffrey to beat her into sniveling cowardice.

"You need to come to my office."

Something in his tone cut through the complex, turbulent layers of her anger. "Is someone there?"