Haunted Women of the Otherworld_Book 5 Kelley Armstrong

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walk straight through the wall.
We came out at the bottom of a set of stairs, in the basement room where Trsiel had "misteleported" us
earlier. If the sight of the room wasn't familiar, the smell of bat shit certainly was. George feigned opening
a door to the left. Then he turned to me and flourished his hand toward the room beyond, grinning
broadly. There, with his back to us, was Trsiel.
Before I could thank George, he brushed past me and darted off again, returning to whatever adventure
I'd disrupted.
I looked over at Trsiel. He was pacing the empty room, eyes downcast, hands stuffed in his pockets,
shoulders hunched forward. When he turned to pace back, he saw me and stopped short. For a
moment, he just stood there, looking at me. Then he took a slow step forward. Eve?
Granted, the lighting down there was next to nil, but I was standing less than a yard away.
"Uh, yeah," I said, waving my hand in front of his face. "Have I changed that much in the last day?"
"Uh, no. Sorry. I, uh& " He looked over my shoulder.
"Expecting someone else?"
"I, uh " He blinked as if snapping out of a fog, then took me by the elbow. "You should check in with
Lizzie."
"Uh-huh. Not very good at subterfuge, are you? Let me give you a tip. If you want to get rid of someone,
the worst thing you can do is act like you're trying to get rid of them. Subtlety is the key. Lying helps, but
you might be stuck there. Can angels lie?"
"Eve, really, you have to "
"Leave? Uh-uh. We need to talk. Starting with 'Who is Dachev?'"
"Dach " His brow furrowed as his brain switched back from whatever track it had been on, he blinked,
and his gaze slid away from mine. "I know hundreds, if not thousands, of people by that name. It's a
common surname in "
"You know which one I mean. The one connected to the Nix. The one you'd rather not talk about. Now
spill it or "
"Trsiel," said a voice from the doorway.
I'll admit, I almost expected that voice to be female. Anytime a guy is that eager to get rid of you, it
usually involves a woman. Well, it can involve a man, but the meaning is the same. With Trsiel, though,
the chances of him interrupting a mission for a romantic liaison with someone of either sex were pretty
much zero.
The voice was male, with an angel's rich timbre. I turned to see a man about my age, sandy blond hair,
well built, wearing trousers, a short-sleeved dress shirt, and a tie. Clearly lacking Trsiel's sense of casual
style, but a damn sight less unnerving than those iridescent outfits the other full-bloods had worn.
The man walked into the room and looked around. "The abandoned basement of a penitentiary." He
looked down. "Dirt floor, rat turds and all. You do know how to make a fellow feel welcome."
He looked around, then stopped, as if seeing me for the first time. His eyes were a clear neon blue, even
brighter than Kristof's. As he turned toward me, Trsiel tensed. Before he could react, the man was right
there, less than six inches from my face, eyes boring into mine. Trsiel's eyes widened, genuine fear
flickering behind them, and he jerked forward, but the other man lifted a hand to stop him, then stepped
away from me.
"Eve Levine," he said, with the barest bow of his head. "A pleasure. Your father speaks very highly of
you."
My father? Before I could ask, the man clasped my hand. His grip was firm& and as hot as the blade of
Trsiel's sword. A few degrees hotter than Trsiel's own touch. None of the angels I'd met had eyes with
that familiar inner glow.
"I am Aratron," he said. "Since Trsiel seems to have temporarily forgotten his good manners."
I realized who I was speaking to and straightened. The demon at Glamis might have expected my
respect, but this one got it. Aratron was a eudemon a nonchaotic demon, and a high-ranking one. I
dipped my head in greeting.
Aratron smiled, then looked from Trsiel to me. "Now, what is Balam's daughter doing with an angel?"
Trsiel shrugged, hands still stuffed in his pockets. He reminded me of the Cabal kids who'd come to me
for black-market spells, making their first foray into the underworld, furtive and nervous, like college kids
meeting their first drug dealer.
When Aratron lifted his brows, Trsiel mumbled, "Working."
"So you're back in the field? Good. I don't know why they ever took you out of it in the first place. You
were one of the best far better than most of those ascendeds."
Trsiel lifted his gaze to search Aratron's, looking for the insult or insinuation behind the words, but
Aratron's eyes were clear, his tone free of sarcasm. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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