18

Elena touched her gloved fingers to her lips, remembering his kiss. Her Raphael’s kiss. Then she turned in the direction of Beth’s home. When her head throbbed, she took stock, but it was nothing, just a passing pulse. Probably a stress headache. It wasn’t like she didn’t have cause.

Once in Beth’s neighborhood, she did slow and wide glides in the air as she considered how things currently stood. The Tower forensic team had processed the entire scene and locked up the house using the key Jeffrey had provided. Both the front door and the—repaired—back door had been discreetly rigged to show evidence of any unauthorized entry.

Elena didn’t think the assailant would returning—not unless he had firm evidence Harrison, Beth, and Maggie were back in residence. It wasn’t coincidence that he’d attacked Harrison first. No—her face stiffened—the unknown intruder had wanted to terrorize Harrison by promising to murder Beth and Maggie.

That didn’t mean the threat was a toothless one, especially since Harrison had survived the attempt on his life. Anyone angry or motivated enough to break into a vampire’s home to slit his throat wouldn’t hesitate to get at the target by harming his family.

The fruit of Harrison’s innocent act that had harmed someone? Possible. Also possible was a drug connection, or another illegal business enterprise. Harrison had always thought himself smarter than others—the reason why he’d once tried to escape his Contract.

Elena was the hunter who’d hauled him back.

That had been just great for family relations.

Deciding on a course of action, she landed. It felt far too good. Her muscles had begun to strain and quiver. As if she were a fledgling barely used to flight. And fuck she was hungry again. After gulping down Nisia’s mixture, she grabbed a chocolate bar from a pocket where she’d stashed it.

She was halfway through it when her phone rang. “Sara,” she said through a mouthful of pure dark chocolate. “Sorry I didn’t reply to your message.” It had come in while she’d been with Nisia.

“Forget that—Ransom said he saw pretty senior Tower vampires at Beth’s house. Is she all right? Maggie?”

Elena gave Sara the details. “I’m about to start knocking on neighbors’ doors, see if anyone heard anything.” As a mortal-born angel, she’d get a better reaction than the people she might’ve asked for help—Izzy was adorable and sweet but not practiced at this type of task, and the more experienced Tower vampires and angels tended to scare people. As for her mortal hunter friends, Elena tried not to pull them into immortal problems if at all possible.

Humans had a way of ending up hurt or dead once in the immortal world.

“Shit, I should’ve asked Honor.” Dmitri’s wife wasn’t only highly capable at gathering intel, she was handy in a fight, and had only been a vampire a short time. Most people didn’t even realize she wasn’t human.

“She’s out with the advance team prepping the training site for Eve’s group, remember?” Sara said.

Elena rubbed her forehead with her fingers. “I did know that.” It had simply become lost in the mess of memories and worries in her head. “Did you approach anyone on your Slayer shortlist?” Good thing Sara had rejected her as a choice—the way things were going, Elena wouldn’t be able to chase a ninety-year-old escapee from a rest home, much less a hunter gone bad.

“No,” Sara answered. “I realized we both forgot about one person who’d be perfect—probably because we hate the thought of him walking alone.” A sigh. “Archer was unusual in being a family man. Most Slayers are single. And I have a highly intelligent hunter who’s both single and not easy to anger. Like Archer, he wouldn’t act without thought, wouldn’t be vulnerable to psychological games.”

“Hell, Sara.” Elena blew a white cloud visible against the night. “You’re talking about Demarco.” Cheerfully good-natured Demarco, who liked to tease her by wearing a Hunter Angel T-shirt, but who fought like a demon.

“It’ll ruin him.” Sara’s tone was weighted with the dark responsibility of her task. “I need more time to make sure I’m not making the wrong call.”

Because if Sara asked, Demarco wouldn’t say no. He’d step into the breach, the courageous idiot. The possibility of losing a friend to the darkness was too much on top of her failing wings, Raphael evolving further and further from her, the ghost owls, all the crazy shit. “Why do we have to have a sole Slayer anyway? Who made that stupid rule? Why not a team?” Friends and comrades could get you through a hell of a lot.

Sara was quiet for a long moment. Elena took that time to tear off the last hunks of her chocolate bar. Imani had it right: change sucked. Even her beloved Guild was in turmoil.

“You know,” her best friend murmured at last, “I don’t know the reasoning behind having a single designated Slayer.” Intrigue in Sara’s tone now, pushing aside the heaviness. “I’m going to do some research. Good luck with the door-to-door.”

“I’ll need it.” She allowed herself a small, fierce smile. She might not be able to feel her wing muscles, but maybe she’d saved Demarco and future Slayers from a lonely life in the shadows.

A small win, but she’d take it.

The next hour was full of failure.

Beth’s neighbors were all home now. However, most hadn’t been around during the incident, and the ones who had been had seen nothing suspicious. Wings tugging heavily at her back and frustration mounting, she was about to write off the entire thing as a colossal waste of time when she walked around the block to knock on the door of the property situated directly behind Beth and Harrison’s home.

It proved to have a full security system, cameras included. Better yet, that system had been on at the time of the assault on Harrison. Her skin prickled, her heart kicking. The camera, contingent on its angle, could’ve caught the assailant’s rushed exit.

“Would you be willing to give me the footage?” Elena asked the middle-aged man who’d answered the door; his hair stuck up in black tufts, the eyes behind his round lenses a rich shade of brown, and his unlined skin two or three shades darker.

“Oh, of course.” The neighbor shivered. “Terrible what’s happened. They’re such a lovely young family. We talk over the fence sometimes.”

“Imagine, that could’ve been you, Al!” interjected the neighbor’s wife.

A short Hispanic woman wearing a T-shirt bearing the logo of a local boutique bakery, she’d introduced herself as Anita, then asked Elena if she wanted a slice of fresh pie. Elena and her bottomless pit of a stomach—she probably had ringworms, immortal ringworms—had been tempted, but demurred. “Where’s the recorded footage stored?”

“It’s on my computer.” Al gestured for her to come inside, quickly realized her wings would make that awkward. “Hold on, I’ll bring the laptop out here.”

He returned just as the snow began to fall, the flakes soft and delicate.

“Pretty,” he said. “But I’m glad I’m not outside in it.”

“Al!” Anita glared at her husband.

Shoulders going up and head lowering, he said, “Sorry,” to Elena. “Just came out.”

“I’m not as vulnerable to cold as I used to be.” True enough, except that her teeth were threatening to chatter and her skin felt encased in ice where the snow kissed it.

Putting the laptop on a small hallway table his wife quickly cleared, a reassured Al angled the table so that Elena could see the screen. “I haven’t actually looked at the footage myself,” he said. “You never do, do you? Not unless something goes wrong.”

“We only got the entire setup to help out a friend who was selling them,” Anita confided. “Otherwise, who thinks of cameras? But Al’s good with computers, so we use all the features. Can even see through the cameras when we’re on vacation!”

Al pointed to a file icon on the screen. “That’s the recording from the past forty-eight hours.” He scratched his head. “We leave the cameras running on a loop, but I delete the files every few days, and this is the only one we’ve got right now.”

“It’s more than enough.” Elena clamped down on her excitement. “Can you pull up a specific time?” She gave him a time five minutes before Jeffrey and Eve’s arrival.

“Yes, I just type the time in here . . . and . . .”

Anita hovered beside him as he worked.

“There we are.” He hit play.

As expected, the relevant security camera was focused on their own backyard, but the angle meant the camera did also catch a relatively large section of Harrison and Beth’s property as well.

“Stop.” Elena leaned forward, breath hitching, as the image of a fleeing individual disappeared off the side of the screen.

“Oh, my goodness.” Anita pressed her fingers to her mouth; Al was already backing up the footage then setting it to run more slowly. “Well, gosh darn it.” Lines furrowed his brow. “You can hardly see him. He must’ve run down that left-hand part, where the camera can’t see.”

Nonetheless, Elena had seen enough to confirm their theory about intelligence and planning. The assailant had been dressed in a long coat, boots, and a brimmed hat, with a scarf wrapped around their face. From this distance, she could see no details of their features, but even their run was measured and purposeful rather than panicked. A person who moved as if they had a right to be there. A visitor in a rush.

Nothing to cause alarm.

“Can you copy the footage to me?” Elena caught Al’s gaze. “I’d also recommend you not try to do anything yourself. This individual is dangerous.”

“Oh no, don’t worry, dear,” he said while his wife gasped, “I leave the heroics to young people like you.” He took down her details. “I’ll put the files into the cloud and send you the access link.”

“Thank you.”

“You take care in the snow, honey!” Anita called after her. “And if you decide you want pie after all, come on back!”

Smile curving her lips, Elena continued to do the rounds, but no one else had anything to offer. Her back and shoulder muscles ached badly by the time she called things to a halt—all from just making sure her wings didn’t drag on the ground. The task hadn’t been this wearing since the weeks after she woke up with wings and was learning how to fly, her body unused to the exertion. Good wing posture had become second nature in the years since.

Her left wing threatened to drop again.

She was standing by Beth’s house fighting the urge to lie down flat to ease the strain on her back when the throaty purr of a motorcycle engine sounded down the street. She glanced over . . . and grinned.

“Why are you prowling these streets?” she said to the black-leather-garbed rider who stopped in front of her. “Sara said you were around earlier, too.”

Ransom pushed up the visor of his helmet to reveal gorgeous green eyes that had seduced more than one woman. “Coupla kids tagged a pic of you walking around the neighborhood. Showed up on my feed.”

When she raised an eyebrow, he sighed. “Nyree wants to move around here in preparation for when we start trying for a mini-me. I’m doing reconnaissance.”

Elena knew him well enough not to fall for his put-upon scowl. The hunter who’d avoided entanglements like the plague was delightfully entangled with a woman who took no bullshit and who loved Ransom with ferocious honesty.

Elena grinned. “How about a ride?”

“Any time.” He patted the back of the motorcycle he’d only recently bought, after his previous one fell down a cliff during a fight with a young vampire in bloodlust. He’d loved that bike, but he hadn’t sulked at the loss—he’d said it was worth it to stop a vampire who’d already murdered three innocents.

The vampire’s angel had paid for the new bike—and requested Ransom for all future hunts. Elena wondered how her friend would handle things when he did have children. Most people transitioned to teaching at the Academy or low-risk hunts for stupid vamps, but Ransom wasn’t the kind. Hunter-born rarely were.

“Hold still.” She straddled the bike behind him but didn’t sit—no way to do that safely with wings. Instead, she got her feet settled on the foot stands and put her hands on his shoulders. “Ready.” She lifted her face to the wind as they roared off and, yes, it was just as much fun as she remembered. Especially when they stopped at traffic lights and a bored driver glanced over . . . to do a serious double take.

Elena waved at him. He waved back, his eyes like small moons in his face.

“You should take a photo or no one will believe you!” she yelled over.

Scrambling for his phone, he managed a shot before the light changed and they roared off. She could feel Ransom’s shoulders shaking as he laughed. Whooping, she enjoyed the ride with a friend she’d known since she was sixteen. It was only as Ransom brought the bike to a stop by the Tower that she remembered the cuts on her arm.

Yeah, she probably shouldn’t be acting the hooligan on a motorcycle without a helmet. “Thanks.” Getting off, she exchanged high fives with Ransom before he roared off to pick up Nyree from a book club meeting.

Elena went directly to her and Raphael’s Tower suite to eat two loaded sandwiches and drink more of Nisia’s mix. After which she found the healer to ask about immortal ringworms.

Though Nisia was seated while Elena was standing, she managed to look down her nose at Elena. “You don’t have worms.”

“Did you check?” Immortals had a way of assuming certain things, and what if she did have a very normal mortal problem? “I’m not fully immortal. They could survive in my gut.”

“Ringworm isn’t caused by worms. It’s a fungus. Which you also don’t have. Your skin didn’t fluoresce under black light when I ran it over you as part of my tests.”

Elena stared at her. “You keep up with modern medicine?”

“No, I prefer to treat my patients with bucketloads of leeches.” A stern pursing of the lips. “Now go away so I can continue to study the results of your various tests. Though . . .”

That sounded ominous. “Though what?”

“I didn’t check for a parasite of another kind.”