“Okay.” I’d rather he hung up and left straightaway, but I was realistic enough to know that was never going to happen when he had news to share. Why he couldn’t leave and talk I had no idea – other than the fact it wasn’t legal to drive while on the phone.

Not that legalities had ever stopped him from doing something before.

“Right then,” he continued. “I went through public records, and discovered the company that owns that particular warehouse is a mob called Pénombre Manufacturing.”

I frowned. The name rang a distant bell – I’d seen or heard that name somewhere before. Where, though? “What do they manufacture?”

“I have no idea, because I can’t uncover much information about them or what they actually do. I suspect they might be a shelf company, except for the fact that they own that warehouse.”

“Can’t shelf companies own assets?”

“I wouldn’t have thought so, given they were initially designed for people wanting to start a new company without the hassle of all the paperwork required to create one.”

“When did they buy the warehouse? There has to be some records of that.”

“There is.” He glanced down, and I heard the clicking of a keyboard. Jak was the old-fashioned type – none of these fancy light screens and keyboards for him. Hell, he still jotted down most of his notes in an actual notebook, rather than using his smartphone. “It was purchased twenty-eight years ago.”

I frowned. I’d been born twenty-eight years ago. Which didn’t actually mean anything, beyond the suspicion that it wasn’t actually coincidental. “Who by?”

“A bloke by the name of Michael Greenfield is the registered owner of the company. Problem is, the only Michael Greenfield I can find is in the matches and dispatches database – he apparently died forty-odd years ago.”

I wondered if he was any relation to Adeline Greenfield, the witch who’d taught me to astral travel. “Meaning someone is either using his name, or the Michael Greenfield registered as the owner of that building was born overseas, not here.”

“Yep. I’ve just sent a request to an English mate to search the databases there, but I don’t know anyone in the U.S. or in Europe who could help us.”

“You could always join ancestry.com,” I said, only half joking.

He snorted. “That wouldn’t help us if he’s changed his name.”

True. And knowing our luck, there’d be thousands of Michael Greenfields out there in the wider world. “I’ll get Stane on it, too.”

That’s if Stane hadn’t had enough of my near constant requests for help.

“Between us, we might be able to find something,” he said. “I’ll send you through what I’ve found, and I’ve asked Jason – the English mate – to copy you on any replies he makes. If you could do the same with Stane, I’d appreciate it.”

“Will do.” I hesitated, then added, “Now go home and be safe.”

“I really think you’re overreacting but —” He paused, frowning as he glanced at something offscreen. “That’s strange.”

“What?” I said, my heart leaping as fear surged through me.

“The lights in the foyer just went out.”

“Jak, get out of there. Use the stairs or something —” I stopped as the lights over his head went out, plunging him into darkness. “Jak? Move!”

“Moving as ordered,” he said, confusion and perhaps a touch of fear in his voice.

“Hide if you can. I’ll be there in a minute.” But if it was a vampire – if it was Hunter – then he didn’t even have a minute.

Which meant I had to get there now. And the quickest way to do that was to have Azriel take me. Changing into Aedh form might be fast for me nowadays, but travel wasn’t instantaneous. It was with Azriel.

“Problem?” Tao said.

I grabbed a jacket from the back of one of the chairs as I jumped off the table. It was sodden, but right then I didn’t care. My handbag was in my bedroom, and I needed a pocket to shove my phone into… the thought barely crossed my mind when Azriel appeared in front of me, holding out my handbag.

Thank you. I glanced at Tao as I swung the bag over my shoulder. “Jak’s in trouble. Can you ring the cops and the ambulance, and get them to his building ASAP?”

As Tao nodded and reached for his phone, Azriel caught my free hand and pulled me close. I had a brief moment to enjoy the press of his body against mine, to feel the warmth and strength of him, before his energy ripped through us both. He transported us through the gray fields so fast that the reapers’ ethereal, unworldly homes were little more than a bright blur. We re-formed into darkness. A darkness ripe with the metallic scent of blood.

Oh god…

Azriel? Can you see anything? I swung around, my nostrils flaring, trying to catch the source and location of the blood. Trying to discover if Jak was here.

Whether his attacker still was.

The vampire is to your left. He runs for the foyer doors. Azriel hesitated. Remember, reaper rules mean I cannot interfere unless he attacks you.

I didn’t care about his rules. Or being attacked. All I cared about was Jak – and he’d obviously never made it to the stairs.

No, Azriel said, mind voice soft. He dies, Risa.

If we get him to a hospital straightaway —

It will not make a difference. He would not survive being transported, anyway. He has not the strength left.

Grief swept through me, but it was twisted with fury. At Hunter, for doing this, and at myself, for involving Jak in our goddamn quest.

I drew Amaya. The flames that flickered down her side were fierce and angry. What did they do to him?

He has been gutted. And no reaper waits, as it is not his time.

Gutted him, not drained him. A deliberate choice on Hunter’s part, meant to kill with as much pain as possible. And if he died when there was no reaper here to guide his soul onward, then he would become one of the lost ones – a ghost forever trapped on the astral planes, never to move on and be reborn. Tears stung my eyes even as fury rolled through me. Damn it, no! Jak shouldn’t have to pay such a price for helping me. None of my friends should. It wasn’t fucking fair when I was doing the best that I could to find the damn keys.

I drew in a shuddery breath. Anger and grief could wait. There was a killer to hunt first.

Help Jak, I said. Don’t let him die without a soul guide, Azriel.

You know I cannot interfere…

I don’t care who you have to contact or what favors you have to pull in, I cut in fiercely. Please don’t let him become one of the lost ones.

I ran for the foyer. The light burning down Amaya’s sides made it easier to see the various cubicles, desks, and chairs, but it did little to rip the shadows away from the vampire. Nor could I detect his scent.

Burn brighter, I told Amaya. I need to see the bastard.

Fire erupted from her sides, filling the large room with her fierce light. On the opposite side of the room, far closer to the foyer doors than I was, a shadow found form. The vampire was long and lean, with dark hair and pale skin. Not someone I knew, I thought with relief. Not Markel Sanchez, who was one of the Cazadors assigned to follow me astrally. I’d only met him a couple of times, but I had a suspicion that – as far as Cazadors went – he was probably one of the more ethical ones. Not that being ethical would have prevented him from killing Jak had Hunter ordered it. From the little he’d said, even the Cazadors feared incurring Hunter’s wrath.

“Stop,” I shouted, “or you’re fucking dead.”

He made a short, sharp noise that sounded a hell of a lot like a laugh – even if a derisive one – and did the exact opposite, crashing through the doors and out into the foyer. I swore and sprinted after him. I hit the half-closed doors a second later, thrusting them back with such force that the top hinges tore free. Glass shattered, glittering with lilac fire as it fell all around me.

The vamp hadn’t stopped to call the elevators, but was instead racing for the fire exit. I had a bad feeling that if he made it there, he’d escape. And that meant I had one option, and very little time.

Don’t kill him, Amaya. I drew her back and threw her, as hard as I could. She flew like an arrow – albeit a flaming one – and thudded into the vampire’s back, her dark blade disappearing into his body, until only her hilt protruded from his flesh. The vampire made a gargled sound, then his legs went out from underneath him and he fell face-first onto the carpet.

I slowed and approached him cautiously. Lilac fire burned where shadowed steel met flesh, but blood crept out from underneath the flames, an ever-growing pool that stained his pristine white shirt. His face, which had borne the brunt of his fall, was also bloody, although I couldn’t see just how badly he’d been smashed up given he was still lying facedown. And I wasn’t about to go closer or move him, even if he did look dead. Looking dead was something vampires could do extremely well.

Dead not, Amaya said. Arrange can.

We need to question him first. I hesitated. Can he move, or do you have him pinned?

Move not.

Good. Keep it that way. I paused. Azriel, how is Jak?

He only has a few minutes left, Risa. Hurry if you wish to say good-bye.

I scrubbed a hand across stinging eyes, then spun and raced back into the main room. Blue flame flickered in the darkness, Azriel’s sword providing enough light to guide me through the office maze, just as Amaya had.

It wasn’t until I was near that I realized Azriel wasn’t alone. Standing several feet away from Jak’s prone body was a white-haired, white-winged female figure. A reaper waiting for Jak’s soul to rise. But her form surprised me. Reapers tended to wear the image of someone the soul was most likely to trust, as it made the transition easier. That this reaper had taken on the appearance of an angel meant either Jak was more of a traditionalist than I’d ever figured or that he simply didn’t have anyone in his life he ultimately trusted. And that was, in very many ways, sad.