Darkness Unmasked (DA 5) (27 page)

My gaze swept the room again, but I didn’t see anything that spiked the internal radar. Then a tall, somewhat slender woman pulled away from the deeper shadows to the left of the stage—in fact, it looked almost as if she was
re-forming
from them. And maybe she was.

She was tall, brown-haired, and had a faint red stripe running along her center part. She didn’t physically resemble either Shard or Summer—except for that stripe—but then, that was no surprise given she was able to take on different forms. And she would, because she knew she was being chased.

I wrapped my hands around my almost empty glass and tried not to be overly obvious about watching her. She looked around the room for several minutes; then her gaze centered on one of the shifters standing near the bar. She strolled toward him and trailed her fingers along the nape of his neck as she sat on the vacant barstool beside him. He jumped as if he’d just been stung, and maybe he
had
. She was a spider after all.

They began to chat and were soon as animated as old friends. She wasn’t overly obvious with her flirting, just went with encouraging smiles and the occasional casual touch. But the psychic energy radiating off her was strong enough that I could feel it from here—and it felt
hungry
.

I shivered. In the back of my mind, Amaya began humming, the soft sound filled with expectation.
This one is not for you, I’m afraid.

It hunts,
she replied, somewhat testily.
Should kill
.

Oh, she will be killed, just not by us.

Task mine.

Not this time.

I swear she swore—although if she
had
, it was in a language I couldn’t understand. Did demons even have their own language?

Of course,
Azriel commented, his tone amused.
All sentient beings do
.

I guess I just didn’t expect it from a demon in a sword.

Remember, before she was in the sword, she was a very powerful demon causing a great deal of havoc.

Havoc good,
she commented.
Should cause more
.

I snorted.
Bloodthirsty little beast, aren’t you?

She preened. I shook my head, then tensed as the shifter and the Jorõgumo rose in unison. My gaze swept the club, but I didn’t see any sign of the guardian. Maybe he’d left after talking to the manager.

Not entirely,
Azriel said.
He’s outside, watching the entrance.

Damn.
I should have guessed a guardian wouldn’t abandon his post so easily. Or that we’d be
that
lucky.
We need to take him out.

The shifter and the spider-spirit didn’t head for the front door, however, but rather turned and walked, arm in arm, in my direction. I swore softly, but kept my head down and sipped the remains of my beer.

Awareness crawled across my skin. The closer she got, the worse it got, until it felt like thousands of tiny black feet were skittering all over me. My grip on the glass became so fierce, my knuckles went white—how it didn’t shatter, I had no idea.

They walked past, whispering like lovers. I resisted the urge to jump up and follow them, forcing myself to remain still and listen to their retreating footsteps. They didn’t go into the bathroom as I’d half expected, but rather through the rear fire exit.

I thrust to my feet and followed them, catching the door with my fingertips before it closed again. The alarm, I noted, had been disconnected—and had been for a while, if the state of the wires was anything to go by. Obviously, the Jorõgumo and her lover were not the first to make a retreat out the rear door.

I cautiously peered out. The two of them were halfway down the small lane that ran the length of the row of buildings in this block. I waited until they’d neared the main street, then slipped out, stopping the door from slamming closed before moving—as stealthily as I could—down the lane. The minute the two of them turned left and were out of my sight, I quickened my pace but didn’t run. Even a drunk shifter had damn good hearing. While he might not connect my footsteps with them being followed, he might just mention it. I couldn’t risk the Jorõgumo fleeing again.

Where are they going?
I asked.

They have stopped near a car
. Azriel paused.
The guardian is on the move as well.

Shit. He must have put either movement sensors or temporary cameras in the lane. My gaze swept the shadows around me, but I couldn’t spot either of them. Of course, he very obviously wouldn’t have put them anywhere that they
could
be easily seen.

If there were damn cameras, though, it might lead to trouble for me. A brown-haired woman following the Jorõgumo and her next victim might not make
this
guardian suspicious, but it certainly would prick Uncle Rhoan’s internal radar.

Where is he?

He’s just turned left into the street you move toward.

Great. Unless I wanted him following the Jorõgumo and perhaps interfering with Hunter’s desire for revenge, I had to take him out. I looked around for some sort of weapon, but there wasn’t anything particularly handy lying about. But there was some sort of industrial Dumpster near the far end of the lane. I spun, ran back, and climbed in. After a few seconds of fishing around the stinking refuse and building rubbish, I found something usable—an old chair leg about one foot long.

I jumped out of the Dumpster, brushed off the worst of the gunk clinging to my jeans, then shoved a hand in my purse and wrapped my fingers around my phone and keys as I called to the Aedh. The magic transformed me in an instant, and I scooted down the lane. Now I just had to hope that the guardian wasn’t sensitive to energy forces.

I paused at the junction of the lane and the street and glanced left. The shifter and the Jorõgumo were about one street down, getting into a pale blue Toyota. I swore mentally and spun left, searching the shadows flowing across the footpath for the guardian.

He was moving with surprising speed for someone who wasn’t a vampire, and something silver glinted in his fist. Tracker, I thought. That was the last thing I needed.

I flowed past him, then spun around and moved up behind him. How the hell was I going to knock him out? Total re-formation was out of the question, especially given my less-than-stellar re-formation technique. Which left me with the option of doing a partial one—something I
had
done when in flesh form, but never from Aedh. Or on the move.

I snuck closer, then called to the Aedh. This time, I controlled the surge of power, channeling its fury, containing its strength, focusing it on just the arm that held the old chair leg. Making both real and solid.

The guardian must have sensed something was happening because he suddenly spun, but I’d already let loose with the chair leg. It smashed against the side of his head with a heavy crack, and he dropped like a ton of bricks. Guilt flickered through me. I hoped like hell he wasn’t hurt too badly, but it wasn’t like I could stop and check.

I drew my arm back to Aedh form and raced down the street just as the shifter’s car pulled away from his parking spot.

He drove fast, obviously eager to get home, and I had to wonder what the hell I’d do if he got pulled over by the cops. I couldn’t keep attacking law enforcement officers—especially given few cops traveled alone these days, and all of them had onboard cameras in their cars.

But he wasn’t pulled over, and eventually he stopped in front of a small weatherboard home that looked as unkempt as the shifter. Obviously, it was just the psychic power our dark spirit was attracted to rather than the sort that came with success and wealth.

He climbed out of the car, ran around the rear of it, and opened the Jorõgumo’s door, ushering her out and taking her arm as he escorted her through the front gate and up the steps. I waited until they’d gone inside, then re-formed. Once I’d picked myself up off the pavement and sorted out my clothing, I grabbed the phone and rang Hunter.

She answered almost immediately. “I do hope it’s good news, Risa dear,” she drawled. “I am not in the mood for the other sort.”

“I’m standing outside of an old weatherboard house. The Jorõgumo is inside, about to feast on another victim.”

Something dark, dangerous, and very, very hungry flashed in her eyes. “Give me the address immediately.”

I did. “What do you want us to do? Wait here or leave?”

“What I want you to do is go in and pen the bitch. As much as I do not care about the shifter himself, Jack has insisted I not risk more lives than necessary in my quest for revenge.”

Meaning Jack actually held some sway over her actions? Somehow, I suspected
that
would be the case only if his requests meshed with her own desires.

“I have no idea how the hell I’d pen—”

“I don’t care how you do it; just do it,” she cut in. “I will not be pleased to arrive and find her gone.”

A displeased Hunter was
not
someone I wanted to face. “Fine,” I muttered, and hung up.

Heat swirled through me, warm and familiar as Azriel appeared beside me.

“Is it safe for you to re-form?” I leaned my shoulder against his to steal more of his warmth. The night air hadn’t gotten any warmer, that was for sure.

“I am as far away now as I was back at the club, so I would presume so.”

“How the hell are we going to cage her?”

“Not we,” he said grimly. “You. The minute I get nearer, she will run.”

“Oh, fabulous.” I rubbed my arms, but it didn’t do a whole lot against the sudden sense of dread. “What do you suggest?”

“Amaya should be capable of containing her long enough for me to get in there and help complete the task.”

“She’s capable of consuming her, too,” I muttered. My sword’s response to this was what sounded like a wicked chuckle.

“Yes. You will have to be firm with her.”

Easier said than done. “When the Jorõgumo appeared in the club, she seemed to merge from the shadows—can she actually do that?”

“Most spirits who can take on flesh can just as easily dissolve. You will have to be quick to capture her.”

“And hope like hell she doesn’t decide to attack rather than run.”

“If she attacks, I
will
be there.”

If she flung little black babies at me, him arriving quickly was
not
going to help. “So, wish me luck.”

“I wish you speed and strength,” he said. “As I have noted before, it is not wise to rely on luck in this sort of situation.”

I guess not. I drew Amaya and gripped her fiercely.
Okay, we are going to cage her, not consume her; you got that, Amaya?

Fun not.

I don’t care.

She muttered for several seconds, the words indecipherable but their meaning clear. Happy not, as she would say. Then she said,
Can nibble?

Not even a little taste. She is Hunter’s meal, not yours.

Eat Hunter,
she muttered.

That,
I replied grimly,
might yet be an option in the future.

She perked up no end at this and began humming happily. I took a deep breath, released it slowly, and wished the nerves and the tension would just fuck off. They didn’t, however, so I just called to the Aedh once again and carefully made my way inside the house.

To hear music rather than the sound of lovemaking.

I inched forward, following the haunting, melodious sound, and found the shifter and the Jorõgumo in the living room. He was sitting on a chair, his jacket dumped on the floor and his shirt undone to the waist. His eyes were closed, and his expression was one of bliss. I couldn’t actually see why—the music, while different, wasn’t exactly a sound that would put me into raptures. But then, my tastes tended to run to pop and rock rather than more classical stuff.

Besides, his state didn’t really have a whole lot to do with the actual music, but rather the lute it came from. Zaira had said the instrument was magic, and the room was thick with it.

The Jorõgumo knelt at his feet, her head bent and her dark hair cascading over what looked to be a small, odd-shaped lute. She plucked the strings with nails that were long and glistened with silver—silver that fell onto the wood floor and spun up and around the shifter’s sneakered feet.

Her web.

The music spelled him, distracted him, while she spun her cocoon around him.

Remember,
I said to Amaya, although I wasn’t entirely sure she could hear me when we were both little more than energy particles.
No consuming. Just containment.

With that, I called forth the Aedh and re-formed—but only enough to give Amaya room to do her stuff. There was no way in
hell
I was about to risk baby spiders being thrown at me.

The minute Amaya formed, she flung fire at the Jorõgumo, but the spider woman reacted with lightning speed, throwing herself sideways and out from under the range of the flames. They chased her, eagerly crawling across the floor toward her, but already she was dissolving, her face and torso becoming little more than wisps that trailed behind the rest of her body as she continued to run from Amaya’s flames.

“Fuck,” I said, and regained full form. “Amaya, grab her legs!”

A rope of fire lashed out instantly, whipping around what remained of the Jorõgumo’s limbs. She screamed and stumbled, crashing to the floor and finding form again.

Only her form was spider rather than human this time, and she was big and black, with skin that writhed and pulsated. I did
not
want to know what was causing that movement. I really didn’t.

The Jorõgumo lunged at me, her fangs bared and as thick as my arm. I yelped and jumped backward, but my calves clipped the edge of the coffee table and I tipped ass over the top of it. I landed awkwardly, but had barely rolled onto my back when Amaya screamed a warning. I looked up to see a hairy black leg coming straight at me. I swore, swung my sword, and steel met flesh with a clang that sounded oddly like a death knell. Not mine, I hoped. Amaya’s screaming was fierce as her steel bit deep into one of the fleshier parts of the Jorõgumo’s leg, and blood flew. As did little black objects.