Nik’s thoughts focused inward. Even now, with the perilous demons’ blood moon mere days away, he could feel its tug straining his mental shields. Yeah, he would have to be as far away as possible from the living soon.
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Aethan muttered.
“Yes…” The Arc’s eerie blues slid over them. “But back to the other problem. One of you has to infiltrate the underground gang before another child or woman is lost. The human authorities are too damn close to discerning otherworldly involvement in this. If they get an inkling, we’re in a shitload of trouble. Best is to get underground, get near someone there, and unearth the scourge behind this.”
“Let me.” Elytani straightened in her chair opposite Týr, eyes brightening in anticipation. “Since they’re abducting females and young, I should go and be a decoy. I mean, I can take care of myself and fight Others.”
“No.” Michael shook his head. “Not for this.”
Yeah, Nik agreed with the Arc. Coming from a race of angel-like beings—the Empyreans—Elytani was too noticeable with her flaxen hair, six-foot height, and striking looks. She would instantly put the demons involved on the alert.
“I’ll go,” Blaéz said.
“You?” Týr reared back, faking shock. “The pin-up for Healthy Living, Glamour, and GQ? Yeah, rrright.”
Nope, the Celt didn’t fit. He was the antithesis of a gangster with his well-trimmed black hair and smooth looks, even if he currently narrowed his cobalt blues.
“Norse, I’m smiling. That alone should terrify you.”
Týr smirked, pulling out his M&M’s. “One on one, pool, tomorrow? I win, it proves I’m right.” He tossed a few reds into his mouth, brow cocking in challenge.
Blaéz’s grin became feral. “You’re on.”
“And this is why,” Ely deadpanned, “after the Creator shaped males, he decided he could do sooo much better. And here we are.”
Startled silence swept through the room.
Nik snorted. The female had integrated well and held her own with this lot of hardheads.
Guffaws of laughter erupted.
“Well played, Ely,” Týr said, chuckling. “I’ll admit, I’m nothing without my mate.”
She gave a little bow and leaned back in her chair. “It’s good you recognize female power.”
“Nik,” Michael said, cutting into their levity. “You’re more suitable.”
Nik remained silent and rubbed his inked biceps, the urge to ignore all this shit and just hoof it back to Romania taking hold. But his damn hands were tied when the Arc had his ass nailed to this place. “Very well.”
“Nik, hold on,” Týr called out, all signs of needling gone. “Kira has a friend who lives underground. The female would probably know more. She also hauls the homeless kids to The Shelter and probably hangs out there, too. Goes by Shadow. Black hair, purple streaks, height around five-seven, or so. I’ll check with my mate for more info.”
Nik slid his hands into his pants pocket. No, he didn’t need a description. He knew exactly who Týr meant.
The little machitís had kneed him in the balls.
Hell, he could have saved himself a shitload of trouble hunting for her if he’d asked Kira straight out. But he’d been too busy isolating himself from the household and the females.
“There’s something else,” Blaéz said, sending a quick look at Aethan. “We have a tear in the veils again.”
The Empyrean’s expression appeared molded in granite. Yeah, he already knew. His mate, Echo, was the Curantii—the Healer of the mystical rift—a gift from her angelic ancestors, The Watchers. Nik had heard, it knocked her into a deep, healing sleep for several days afterward.
Aethan’s mouth thinned, but he nodded. “I’ll see to it.”
Yeah, no matter his feelings—or the adverse effect it had on his mate after healing the veils—his fellow warrior understood it had to be done.
The meeting adjourned, Nik walked outside.
Shadow.
Finally, he knew where to find her. And he’d have his answers.
He doubted she hung around The Shelter at night, not when she was playing Wonder Woman. But it would be dusk soon, and he didn’t have anything pressing.
“Nik, wait—” Blaéz stepped out on the terrace. No sign of his usually provoking expression, his blue eyes almost navy and unreadable. “This path you take…a dark haze hovers. Be careful.”
Nik respected the guy like hell. Blaéz’s precognition was paralleled to none. But seriously, he didn’t want to know what he’d seen or whatever the hell awaited him. He merely nodded and dematerialized to the Lower East Side.
Shadow leaned against a shopfront, sweat beading her brow. She plucked the overlong sleeves of her denim jacket as she studied the busy sidewalk, sucking on her cherry lollypop.
Ugh. People. Everywhere.
She’d rather be searching for Joyce or enclosed in her gloomy, rat-infested basement at this part of the night, but she had to pay her dues. Fuckin’ Rough.
She glanced up the street then down again, her gaze sweeping past a well-dressed, stocky man in a suit, puffing his way in her direction, to a skinny hood in leathers strolling behind him. Time to get on with the job.
The candy stuck between her lips, she pulled off her denim jacket and sighed in relief as her damp skin aired. At least the heat rising off the street had lost some of its intensity. She strolled toward them, licking her lolly, when the stiletto heel of one of her knee-high boots caught in a crack on the sidewalk. “Eeek—!” She tripped and went flying forward, arms whirling, grabbing onto someone.
“Sorry.” She quickly pulled away.
The thickset man blinked at her, then a smile started. His lust-filled gaze wandered down to her black mini and up again, fixing on her tank-top covered breasts.
“No problem at all, toots,” he told her boobs.
Asshole. She strode off. Nope, no guilt at all for relieving him of what she wanted. She had planned on the hood as a target because she had standards, but whatever.
Shadow stashed his wallet into her jacket pocket, and as she retied the denim around her waist, she stumbled again. Dammit. She needed to be more careful before she truly broke her heel. These boots were all she had.
Someone grasped her by the arm, hauling her to the edge of the busy sidewalk.
“Jeez—” she growled around her lollipop. “One minute ago, I nearly twisted my ankle. Your chivalry is a tad too late.” She tugged her arm and glared up. “You can let go—” Oh, shit. Horror stole her breath at the tall guy looming over her.
The pale-eyed Guardian.
“Thieving?” His low, endless voice, one she could never forget, stroked her mind and had prickles coasting up her arms and down her body to curl in her belly. Darn it, she shut off the annoying sensation, focusing on her precarious situation.
Deny, deny, deny. Then run like hell.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” She yanked at his fingers with her other hand, trying to free herself, but they were like damn steel manacles.
“Don’t make this any more difficult on yourself. We need to talk.”