Archangel's Legion (Guild Hunter #6)(22)

“He put an innocent vampire in the hospital,” Elena elaborated, when Ms. Flaherty turned to her. “The beating was merciless.”

“Lucky for him, he chose a vampire just out of his Contract, with dreams of cruising the world and no time for hassles with an official case.” Ransom leaned forward, arms braced on his thighs. “The Guild Director convinced him to accept a payout in lieu of laying charges, which means the Guild doesn’t have to officially suspend Darrell’s license, but he hurts anyone else and he’s done.”

“That’s not my boy.” Ms. Flaherty’s body vibrated with unhidden outrage. “Darrell does his job. He doesn’t abuse those he hunts.”

“The things we see in the course of the job?” Elena held the elderly lady’s sharp eyes. “It can cause cracks that don’t heal without intervention, and Darrell recently walked into a nightmare.”

Ms. Flaherty’s fingers trembled on the lap rug, but her voice didn’t crack when she spoke. “I haven’t seen or heard from him in a week, and he always calls me every couple of days, especially since I’ve had this dratted cold I can’t seem to shake.” A deep breath that caught, but she waved off their concern to point a finger at Ransom. “You find my boy before he comes to harm. Don’t you let him down—you’re his Guild. He always said you were like family.”

? ? ?


“We are family,” Ransom muttered once they returned to the bike, neither one of them of the opinion that Ms. Flaherty had lied. “Why didn’t the idiot just come in when he realized he was losing it? He knows no one would’ve blinked an eye if he needed more counseling—or, hell, if he wanted to get drunk every day for a week. We would’ve gone with him, carried him home from the f*cking bar.”

“He’s in a bad place, not thinking straight.” Elena refused to fail at bringing Darrell home. Maybe she couldn’t halt an archangelic war, or make her father into a decent human being, but this one fracture she could and would mend. “Since we don’t have specifics, how about we start trying the usual Guild haunts?”

“That’s what I w—” Grabbing his phone at the chime, he gave her the thumbs-up. “Sara’s been talking to his friends, sent us a list of his other known hangouts. One of his buds already scoped the apartment, found it empty.” Sliding on his sunglasses, he e-mailed the list to her phone. “You take the top half, I’ll take the bottom, see if we can pick up a trail. If you think you have him, call me—with his head screwed up as it is, he might forget we’re family.”

“You call me, too.” Scanning her half of the list after getting his nod, Elena noted a gun shop, a clothing resupply store that catered to hunters and cops, an apartment that apparently housed a discreet pro, and the New York Public Library. “He must like to read.” Somehow, that small, unexpected fact made him more human, more real.

“Yeah. Always has a paperback in his back pocket.” Tugging on his helmet, Ransom straddled the bike, flicked up the kickstand with a boot, turned the key, and kick-started the engine. The machine roared to purring life. “Get on. I’ll run you over to a building you can use as a launchpad.”

“No, thanks. I’ll have to spread my wings to keep them off the street and next thing I know, I’ll be clipped by some cabbie in a bad mood.” Elena wasn’t going to flirt with being grounded again. Not to mention she’d then have to deal with one extremely pissed-off archangel.

Devil-may-care grin on his face, Ransom gunned the bike. “Come on, Ellie. I bet we stop traffic.”

“Be visible in the doing.”

She had a feeling Raphael hadn’t considered this when he’d spoken those words. It was no doubt a bad, bad idea, but damn if it wouldn’t get a stupid amount of coverage, maybe give the city something to smile about.

“They should make motorcycles for angels.”

It was a kick to the gut, that splinter of memory. The words had been spoken by the young angel whose funeral cortege would reach the Refuge after darkfall, his statement directed at a friend as the two of them sat with their legs hanging off a Tower balcony to the left of where Elena stood. She’d smiled at the time, but now the words incited a renewed wave of angry sadness.

This one’s for you, she thought and swung her leg over the thrumming machine. However, she didn’t sit—that would leave her wings touching the street. Instead, she placed her hands on Ransom’s shoulders and stood on the footholds. She had to spread her wings a little to avoid tangling them in the bike, but it wasn’t as bad as she’d feared. “You’re going to have to deal with considerable drag.”

“My sweet girl eats drag for breakfast.” Then they were off, the wind slamming into her face and her wings as Ransom executed a turn and roared down the street to the wide-eyed astonishment of everyone they passed. Laughing, Elena threw back her head and enjoyed the ride as that young soldier would’ve, had he only been given the chance.

She and Ransom had unquestionably made an impression by the time he brought the bike to a gentle stop in the silent street behind an older building. “This do?” he asked, nodding at the external fire stairs that led all the way to the roof.

“Yep.” Hopping off the bike, she checked her wings. “Still in one piece.”