“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Darci said hastily, remorse taking over at the fleeting flash of pain in the younger woman’s expression.
Echo lifted startled mismatched eyes to her. “Oh, no, he’s alive. It’s just that I haven’t seen him since I er—moved in with Aethan.” At Darci’s confused look, she explained, “Damon and Aethan don’t exactly see eye-to-eye. It’s a long story—” Another sharp beep of her cell. “Crap, Lore is impatient, must dash. I’ll see you later.” Echo set the cat back on the floor and hustled off.
Darci frowned as she ate, staring at the door Echo had disappeared through.
Who took lessons at midnight? She got that these men worked for some kind of special ops organization. With their impressive sizes, it seemed logical. And then there were their incredible good looks and strange eye colors. Must not forget Blaéz’s unbelievable abilities… Something in this place just didn’t fit.
Darci took a sip of her juice, picked up her empty plate and made her way over to the kitchen. Bob weaved between her heels then dashed across the room as Hedori set a bowl of kibble on the floor and face-planted there.
Hedori straightened and smiled at her. “Would you like dessert? There’s chocolate cake.”
Just the wordchocolateand she was ready to forget her questions. “No, but thanks.” She struggled past her craving and set her dishes in the sink. Her curves didn’t need the added calories. “I’m full from that wonderful meal…” She hesitated.Dammit, just ask him.
“Do all of them work the night shift?” Sheesh! What a stupid question. If they were special ops, they probably worked all kinds of hours. Honestly, she had no idea what it was she wanted to ask—what had her so unsettled.
“Yes…it seems that the worst kind of evil roams the streets beneath the cover of darkness.” Hedori poured milk in another bowl then met her gaze. “I’m glad you are all right after that unfortunate incident earlier.”
A shiver of revulsion and fear crept over her skin. She wrapped her arms around her waist at thoughts of her attack. “Me, too.”
Hedori set the milk on the floor beside Bob. “You need anything else?” he asked politely.
Darci shook her head. She had to let this compulsion go. Blaéz had helped her, brought her here to recover when he could have just as easily dumped her in a hospital. For that, she was grateful. At least it spared her family the worrying.
She wandered to the open French doors and stared into the dark night, chirruping crickets breaking the silence. Sure, people had psychic abilities, not that she’d met anyone possessing them, but Blaéz had very, very strong ones to be able to tear doors off cars and self-heal.
Who—whatwas he?
* * *
“What exactly are you looking for, Celt?” Týr asked as they rode up the hospital elevator.
“Retribution.”
Týr’s brow shot up. Then he nodded. “Right.”
Blaéz concentrated on the third level where his prey languished. So easy to break into hospital records via cyberspace and get the information he wanted on the three concussed humans brought in earlier that evening.
The elevator door pinged open, and the sharp smell of bleach and disinfectant struck him in the nose—the silence in the place a shock to his heightened hearing.
“I’ll take care of the nurses,” Týr said and detoured toward their station.
Blaéz scanned the sea of rooms, his senses alert for the humans he wanted then headed down the bland white corridor. He found the room easily enough. As he entered, a patient occupying the farthest bed turned his way. The male’s pained gaze widened in panic.
With Blaéz dressed all in black like death-incarnate, he certainly didn’t inspire confidence that he was there for the sake of their well-being. Good. He sent the man to sleep and focused on the one he wanted. The human scourge rested comfortably on the bed, his arm in a cast.
Opening his mind, Blaéz slipped into the man’s drugged one and sifted through the depravity he found. Some humans really were far more evil than those demons choosing to live a discreet life on this realm. The fact they would have raped Darci and thought nothing of it—Blaéz stopped the drip for his pain meds and willed him awake.
With a low moan, the thug blinked open bleary eyes and focused on Blaéz. Then they popped wide with fear. He struggled to move but could do little, held prisoner in his bed. A whimper ricocheted through the room. The heart monitor beeped wildly.
“You know who I am.” Blaéz strolled to the foot of the bed and folded his arms over his chest. “For hurting my female…” He grabbed the human’s fractured ulna with his mind and cracked it again. The man’s eyes bulged, his face contorted in agony. He screamed. No nurses came running to his aid. “If you ever touch another person, I will find you.” He shoved into the male’s thoughts and showed him exactly what he was capable of.
The scourge cried out in terror and called upon his God, tears streaming down his face. Then he slid back into unconsciousness.
Blaéz turned and found Týr waiting at the entrance. “I thought you’d be doing this so I hazed the surveillance cameras on this floor. Let’s get out of here.”
He walked out. Blaéz followed, only to stop at the next room.
“Or not,” Týr muttered from behind.
