Darkness Splintered

I dropped to my knees beside him. Jak’s dark features were pale and etched with pain, his body shuddering and bleeding and… bile rose as my gaze stopped at his stomach. Blood, intestines, and god-knows what else spilled from his stomach, despite his best efforts to stop them.



I briefly closed my eyes, fighting for the strength to remain calm. To not storm back to that vampire and rip his fucking heart out.



I placed one hand over Jak’s, and tried to ignore the warm blood that oozed over my fingertips. “Jak? Can you hear me?”



His eyes fluttered open. In the dark depths of his gaze, the awareness of death gleamed.



“Risa,” he said, voice so soft and hoarse I had to lean close to hear him. “I think you were right about that vampire.”



I brushed the sweaty hair from his forehead. “In what way?”



“Security didn’t stop the bastard.”



“No.” I swallowed heavily as tears tracked unchecked down my cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Jak. This is my fault —”



“No, it’s not. I wanted to be here, I wanted the story. My decision, not yours. I could have walked away.”



Yes, he could have. But I’d known that he wouldn’t, not once he had the scent of a good story in his nostrils.



He reached up and caught one of the tears on his fingertips. “You’ve cried enough tears over me, Risa. I don’t deserve these any more than I deserved your love —” He hesitated, his face twisting, his breath becoming little more than short, shuddering gasps for air.



A sob tore up my throat. I bit my lip, and somehow held it back. “The ambulance is coming, Jak. Just hold on.”



It would be too late. I knew it, he knew it, but I didn’t know what else to say. So I squeezed his hand lightly, watching as his breath became more and more labored, and his life poured over our twined fingers to soak into the carpet underneath him.



“God,” he somehow croaked, “this is a bitch. The story of a lifetime in my grasp and I’ll never —”



The rest of his words were cut off by a gasp. Then his eyes rolled back in his head and his breathing stopped.



The sob tore free. “Good-bye, Jak.” I kissed his warm lips gently. “I hope both love and the story of the century find you in your next life.”



My tears splashed across his face as I sat back and, just for a moment, it looked like he was also crying. Gossamer tendrils began to rise from his body. His soul, ascending. The winged reaper reached out one hand. Jak’s soul moved toward her, and together they moved on.



I briefly closed my eyes and swiped at the tears with my nonbloody hand. While I wanted to do nothing more than bawl like a baby, now was not the time. I took a deep, shuddery breath, and said, “Who was the reaper?”



“My sister.” Azriel’s voice was without emotion, but his surprise echoed through me. Surprise, and something else. Something that was close to regret. “I did not think anyone would answer – especially not someone from my family.”



“Why not?” My gaze met his. “It is you who caused the estrangement, not them.”



“It was mutual, Risa. My decision to seek revenge for my friend’s death brought shame on them.” He shrugged, as if it didn’t matter, even though – from the little he’d told me – families were a big part of a reaper’s life. And yet I knew he didn’t regret either his decision or his subsequent actions. But it was those actions that had made him Mijai – it was his punishment for breaking reaper rules and taking a life before its time.



And now, because he’d shared his life force with me, he would remain a Mijai for all eternity, until death overtook him.



“My relationship with my family is not something we should be discussing now,” he continued softly. “The police are near. We should go.”



Even as he said that, the distant wail of sirens began to cut across the steady murmur of traffic moving past the building. I sighed and pushed to my feet. “No. I want to question the vampire first.”



He frowned. “I can pull whatever information you need from his mind.”



“But that won’t give us a record of confession, and I want to start protecting my ass against Hunter.”



That’s if he could incriminate her. She was a powerful telepath, and could easily have placed a block around the vampire’s thoughts, preventing him from ever mentioning her part in Jak’s death.



I glanced one more time at Jak’s motionless body, whispered a final good-bye, then dug out my phone and hit the Record button as I walked back to the foyer.



She has not placed a block on his thoughts, Azriel said, appearing by my side again. I can feel none of her taint in his mind.



I glanced at him. Which is odd. I know Hunter is head of the Directorate and therefore able to squash any investigation, but surely even she wouldn’t want the questions her involvement in Jak’s death would raise.



You accord her human thought processes, and that is something she long ago abandoned. Azriel’s mind voice was thick with contempt. Besides, she would not think us capable of catching her killer. He is not a Cazador, but he is very skilled in killing. Do not step too close or give him the opportunity to attack.



I wasn’t planning to. I took several photos of the vampire – noticing in the process that Amaya didn’t show up in any of them – then tucked my phone into the purse’s front pocket, out of sight, but still close enough to record everything said.



“Okay, mystery man,” I said, “unless you want some serious damage done to your back, you’d better stop faking unconsciousness and start talking.”



There was no response, which wasn’t really surprising. Hunter wouldn’t have sent a fool to do her dirty work.



Amaya, twist a little closer to his spine.



Her chuckle – which could be described only as both gleeful and bloodthirsty – ran across the back of my thoughts as her blade did a slow circle in his flesh. Blood spurted, and the vampire hissed – a venomous sound if I’d ever heard one. He looked at me, face bloody and eyes narrowed. There was no pain in those black depths, no fear. Just fury. And the promise of death should I make one careless move.



“One last chance to start answering my questions, then I’ll sever your damn spine.” My voice was cold and flat. One look at his expression – or lack thereof – was enough to tell me I could not show any sort of emotion to this man. He was the sort to take it as weakness.



“What do you want?” His voice was controlled, even. One tough vampire, obviously.



“Everything.” I crossed my arms. “Your name, and the name of the person who sent you here to kill Jak.”



“I wasn’t sent here to kill —”



He cut the rest of the sentence off as Amaya did a half turn. Sweat dotted his face, but his expression remained unchanged. Uncaring. Deadly.



“You’re lying and we both know it.” To Azriel, I said, What’s his name?



He hesitated, then said, Trent Fagan. He is a killer for hire. The Directorate had a death order on him, but Hunter had it removed on the proviso he work for her.



Why would she do that, when she has the Cazadors at her beck and call?



They do not work for her, but the council as a whole. Kill orders must be cleared through the council before they can be enforced. He studied me. She is gathering her own personal hit squad; you are one of them, Risa.



But I don’t —



Not yet, he agreed. But it is what she wants, nevertheless. You – and the remaining keys – would give her the ultimate command over not just the council, but the world.



I blinked. Even she’s not that crazy —



Oh, but she is. His mind tone was grim. She wants power. Hungers for it. And she will never be satisfied until all who live bow at her feet.



Wow. Just… wow. And yet it certainly made more sense than the council wanting the keys so they could use hell as their own private jail. Not that I’d ever really believed that particular statement – or, at the very least, I’d always suspected there was something more. I had no doubt that if Hunter did get the keys, then she would use hell. It would amuse her greatly to cast those who annoyed her into that place.



I returned my attention to the vampire. “Look, I know your name is Trent Fagan, and I know you’re a contract killer for hire. Tell me the truth about what happened here today, and I might just let you live.”



Surprise flickered briefly through his eyes, but he remained mute.



I sighed. “Fine. But consider this, the Directorate are on their way, and we both know they had a kill order out on you. It might have been rescinded, but do you honestly think you’ll be given such a chance a second time?”



He contemplated me for a moment, very obviously weighing options. “Living probably isn’t in my future, given capture was never part of the plan.”



“And what was the plan?”



Something flickered in his eyes. Annoyance or acceptance, I couldn’t tell which. But after a brief hesitation, he said, “To kill Jak Talbott.”



“Why gut him? Why not just drain him?”



“Because gutting is the more painful death.”



I clenched my fists. God, what I wouldn’t give for Amaya to be buried in Hunter’s flesh right now. “And who sent you here?”



Again he contemplated me. “What makes you think someone sent me here? That reporter has stepped on more than a few toes in his time.”



“He certainly has, but you’re not one of them. Besides, you don’t work for free, even on kills you desire.”



That last part was a guess, but I was betting it was a correct one.



A slight smile touched his lips. “If you know so much about me, then likely you’ll also know who sent me.”



“I suspect I do, but I nevertheless want it confirmed.”



“And if I tell you that, you’ll let me run?”



“If you can still run, then yes.” Even if he escaped the arriving police, he’d still have to face Hunter. She’d know in an instant I’d questioned her killer, but what she wouldn’t expect was me recording it. “But only if you’re honest with me. And I will know, trust me on that.”