Archangel's Shadows (Guild Hunter #7)(92)

Ashwini slid out one of her knives. No one was ever again going to imprison her. Slicing the howling darkness to shreds, she stepped out and . . . “Oh.”

The woman who lay so motionless on the hospital bed was not as she was now, but as she must’ve been: that stunning face with its unique beauty, of medium height and curvy, with silky black hair down to her waist.

“Hello,” Ashwini said. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“We don’t have much time. I’m going.”

“No.” Ashwini reached out, took her hand. “You’ll make it.”

The woman’s smile was sad and resolute both, her shoulders firm. “No, I don’t want to stay, don’t want that life. I’m not what he made me.”

Thinking of the shell on the bed, her bones as fragile as a bird’s, her heart a flutter beneath Ashwini’s touch, and her eyes hollow, Ashwini understood that this woman would never again live, even should her body survive. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” The victim’s fingers grew thinner . . . No, they were fading. “Not enough time.”

“Tell me his name.” Ashwini fought to hold on to her for another heartbeat. “The one who hurt you.”

“I don’t remember.” No distress, as if she’d traveled beyond that. “It’s already gone. I know my name. Lilli Ying. I have a mother, a father. Please tell them I didn’t suffer.”

It was a lie, but a lie Ashwini would speak as if it were the truth. “I promise. Can you tell me anything about the person who hurt you?”

“The first monster wanted to cause us pain. It gave him sexual pleasure.” A flicker of fear pierced the peace, was quickly erased. “But then . . . then the other one came, and it was worse.” Her features faded, her voice a faraway whisper. “The other one had wings. And he drank my life from me.”

“Wait, don’t go!” Ashwini felt as if she were attempting to hold on to a wisp of air, a streamer of mist. “I need a trail to follow to find the monsters. Something. Anything!”

The echo of the victim tilted her head, looked at her a little blankly. But then she said, “It smelled like peanuts, where they kept me. Strange. Made me want peanut butter muffins. Peanuts. Such a big place that smelled of peanuts.” The air dissipated, the words less than a memory of thought. “I have to go.”

“Where?” Ashwini asked, the question one that haunted her after all the screams she’d touched in the world, all the pain she’d witnessed. “Is it a good place?”

Her only answer was a piercing beep that shattered the world into a million sharp, glittering shards.

? ? ?

Janvier easily took Ashwini’s weight when she staggered back from the bed. Alarms sounded from all around them, the heart monitor showing a flat line. But the woman on the bed . . . she had a smile on her face, a final muscle movement made the instant before the alarms shrilled into high-pitched panic.

Holding Ash as the doctors rushed back in, he heard her whisper, “No, let her go,” in a voice so hoarse, he only heard it because her breath kissed his jaw on the words. “She wants to go.”

Janvier gave the order in a louder voice and, when the doctors hesitated, said, “I’ll take full responsibility. Give her the peace she wants.”

It was the mortal doctor who put her hand on the vampire physician. “He’s right. She suffered too much trauma. We’d only prolong her pain if we managed to resuscitate her.”

Shoulders falling, the vampire physician reached out and pressed several buttons.

The alarms went silent, the only sound Janvier could hear that of Ash’s shallow breathing. Struggling to lift her lashes and failing, his Ashblade parted her lips, spoke again. “She said it smelled of p—” Her body became dead weight, her bruised mind losing the battle with consciousness.

Wrapping one arm around her waist, he held her upright so no one else would realize her condition. In the corridor, he didn’t request that Illium fly her out. The blue-winged angel was a man Janvier would trust at his back anytime, but he was also an angel hundreds of years old, with memories Janvier couldn’t hope to know and that might cause Ash further pain even in her unconscious state.

“Can you make sure the victim’s body undergoes a thorough examination and autopsy?” he asked the other man instead. “Take her to the Guild morgue and to the pathologist who examined Felicity.”

“I’ll make sure it’s done.” Golden eyes took in Ash’s lax body, the shimmer of perspiration on her skin. “Do you need a ride?”

Shaking his head, Janvier said, “Tell Dmitri I’m off the grid until I get back in touch.”

A curt nod.

Thirty seconds later, Janvier had Ash in the elevator. Stabbing the button for the underground garage, he said, “Almost there, cher.” For some unknown reason, he’d taken the car to his interviews when the bike would’ve been easier, the decision one he’d consider later. “Not that I’m complaining about having you pasted to me.”

“Ha-ha.” Her voice sounded weak and drugged, the words slurred. “Your hand . . .”

“You crushed it to pieces,” he said against her temple, maintaining a rigid hold on his emotions. “Now you will have to kiss it better, inch by inch.”