Archangel's Shadows (Guild Hunter #7)(86)

“Yes.” The realization that Felicity hadn’t been the first, the other victims lost and forgotten, infuriated her. “Opera, art house flick, receipt for a designer dress—” She frowned, looked at the total. “Five grand, paid in cash.” It must’ve been a prop, meant to draw Felicity deeper into the spider’s web. Five thousand was loose change for an old, rich vampire.

“Either an old vampire uneasy with other methods of payment,” Janvier said, “or a young one showing off.”

“I’d go for old with how well orchestrated this was, how patient, but why limit it to vampires?” She raised an eyebrow. “Angels can be even more twisted.” Nazarach had taught her that. “Could be an angel is behind this and the vampire who bit her is simply the one who did the dirty work.”

“I’ll do some discreet digging, see if any angel is known for tastes that might have morphed into this kind of ugliness.” Opening a bank statement still in its envelope, as if it had come after Felicity last visited her apartment, he stopped. “She bought something at a store that’s unusually high end for a woman with as little income as Felicity. Maxed out her credit card . . . and that card was paid off in full a few weeks later.”

Ashwini glanced at the charge, saw the reference, and looked up at the billboard plastered on the wall of a building a block down. “A man’s watch,” she said, blood a roar in her ears. “She bought the bastard a gift.”

Janvier followed her gaze. “He’s cold, calculated. Banks can be worse than cops, so he made sure they wouldn’t come looking.”

“But a store like that,” she said on the wave of her rage, “will have surveillance.” Maybe, just maybe, the monster had been with Felicity when she bought the gift.





31


Four hours after his visit to the Quarter, Dmitri finished his call with Astaad’s second—who had the bad taste to be sleeping with Michaela, but was otherwise sane—and walked up to the roof. He and Raphael needed to discuss the upcoming meeting with the vampire leaders.

As he’d predicted, the bloodlust had begun to cool the instant the order rippled through the vampire community. Seven of the leaders had contacted him already, the tremor in their voices barely hidden. “Please tell the sire I have taken care of the problem,” had been the message of each, though the exact words may have differed.

It was too little too late. What Raphael needed from Dmitri was to know the names of the worst offenders, the ones who had encouraged the lack of discipline through their own actions or inaction. It hadn’t taken Dmitri long to gather that information, not with the reports recently filed by Trace and Janvier, as well as input from Illium about the Made who wielded the most authority over others.

Dmitri had also had a long and interesting conversation with Adele that had clarified certain matters. She might refuse to join the Tower officially, but Adele’s loyalties were unquestionable—and she knew as well as he did that punishment could not be avoided once the crime had been committed. While Raphael wasn’t capricious or brutal without cause, he was also ruthless when it came to maintaining order in his territory.

Bloodlust equaled carnage. It would never be acceptable.

However, when Dmitri exited out into the glassed-in enclosure that housed the elevator, he was surprised to find Naasir and Elena on the other side. They were using the flat surface of the roof as a training ground and going at each other no holds barred. No, he thought after a second glance, that wasn’t true. Naasir wasn’t moving with anywhere near his ordinary speed.

It wasn’t because he’d been injured that morning—the wound had looked bad, but was comparatively minor relative to Naasir’s age and strength. No, it was because the two of them were still gauging each other’s strength.

“She calls him a tiger creature.”

Dmitri turned to the archangel who’d come up behind him. Raphael didn’t use the elevators, so he had to have used the stairs. That, too, was highly unusual. Dmitri guessed he hadn’t wanted to fly up, disrupting the practice session outside. “Well, she’s heading in the right direction.” Naasir’s Making was a unique and terrible thing. “He did actually tell her several truths at dinner.”

Lips curving, Raphael kept his eyes on Elena and Naasir. They were stepping it up now, Elena’s knives slicing faster as Naasir moved with a swift grace that was fascinating to watch. Venom was as fast, but more sinuous, with the startling and jagged speed of a viper. Naasir’s strikes were fluid, feline, and oddly stealthy for being so feral.

“She’s holding her own—that’s something.” Elena had once slit Dmitri’s throat on a busy Manhattan street, so the hunter had considerable skill, but she was up against a very dangerous vampire of over six hundred with nowhere to run; she couldn’t even take off fast enough to avoid Naasir. “You have warned Naasir that she’s not yet fully immortal?” The other male wouldn’t fatally hurt her on purpose, but he might not realize he was doing so without an advance caution.

“Yes.” Raphael’s smile deepened. “Even with having to restrain himself, he’s laughing. You know what that means.”

“He’s enjoying himself.” There were an extremely limited number of people who could put that look on Naasir’s face, especially in a sparring session. “It’s because she’s as unpredictable as he is. No rules, just do what’s needed.” That balanced out the fact that Elena wasn’t strong enough to take his blows at full strength.