I picked up my burger and bit into it, but barely even tasted it. My attention was on the reaper. On this man who could destroy me with a single touch of his finger.

His gaze met mine again. Those bright depths burned, and if reapers were capable of anger, then this one was pissed.

He pulled out a chair and sat down opposite me, his movements economical and fluid. The heat of him rolled across the table, and it did warm me even as the psychic part of me shivered away from the power of that fiery caress.

And yet, if he was sitting down opposite me, surely that meant he didn’t intend to take me.

Not yet, anyway.

“No reaper did that.” The words were said flatly, without inflection, and yet his anger seemed to blaze all around me. “No reaper would ever do that.”

“And yet you are capable of it.”

He studied me for a moment, then nodded, the movement short and sharp. “As are you.”

“The Aedh are not as adept at soul stealing as the reapers, and a half-Aedh even less so.”

He acknowledged this with another nod, then said, “There are many other things capable of stealing souls in this world, but I’ve never seen one go after a child so young.”

I took another bite of the burger, but the little girl’s plight had really killed my taste buds and the burger tasted like ash. I dropped it back into its wrapper, brushed the crumbs off my fingers, then picked up my Coke instead. After taking a sip, I said, “So which of these other things is responsible for her destruction?”

“That I cannot tell you.”

I raised an eyebrow—and felt somewhat surreal even as I did it. I mean, I was sitting here in the middle of McDonald’s with a reaper. The day could not get any weirder if it tried. “Cannot, or will not?”

He studied me, and for the first time I noticed the hint of stubble around his chin. It made his face less perfect, and yet somehow more appealing.

I blinked. A reaper appealing? Someone obviously needed to knock some sense back into me.

“Cannot,” he said, eventually, “because I do not know who or what is responsible. But we will endeavor to find out.”

I paused. “We?”

“The Mijai.”

“The what?”

“Mijai,” he repeated. “We are the dark angels, the soldiers.”

“Hence the sword.” And the winged tattoo. “But why would reapers need soldiers? Especially since reapers don’t take unwilling souls?”

“Because, as I said, there are other things that do. The Mijai are responsible for stopping such thefts.”

And for a whole lot more, I was betting. “Meaning someone screwed up big time when it came to that little girl.” I paused, taking another sip of Coke. “So is that why you were following me? Was I a suspect?”

“How could I suspect you when I didn’t even know the soul had been stolen?”

“Then why were you following me?”

He hesitated and leaned back in his chair. If the sword across his back was giving him any discomfort, he certainly wasn’t showing it. In fact, it almost seemed an extension of his flesh—a metallic limb, of sorts.

“Where did you get that necklace?” he countered.

I blinked and automatically knew he wasn’t talking about Ilianna’s charm, but rather the gold filigree droplet I wore around my neck. It was shaped like two wings, and very much represented my heritage.

“It was my father’s.” Apparently, he’d given it to my mom the night of my conception, and Mom had passed it on to me when I was old enough to start asking questions.

“Indeed,” he said, and I had the distinct feeling it was information he already knew. “When?”

“Twenty-eight years ago.”

He raised an eyebrow. “That is your age, yes?”

“Why is my age important?”

“It isn’t. I just want to talk to your father.”

I nearly choked on my Coke. I coughed for several seconds—while he watched dispassionately—then somehow managed to say, “Well, I wish you luck with that.”

“So you’re saying you’ve had no contact with him recently?”

I swallowed a hiccup, then said, “I’ve had no contact with my father my entire life. He might have provided the seed that formed me, but that was his entire input.”

“And yet he is apparently here in Melbourne.”

“Well, if you know that, then you know a hell of a lot more about him than I do.”

I didn’t even know what he looked like, other than the fact that he had violet eyes and silvery blond hair, just like me. Of course, Mom’s hair was also a silvery blond, but neither that nor the blue of her eyes was natural. As a Helki werewolf, she could subtly alter her appearance, and the silver and blue not only suited her psychic business better, but also enabled her to use her true form when she didn’t want to be noticed.

Admittedly, she had tried to answer my questions about my dad, but the truth was, I was the result of a one-night stand, and Mom’s entire time with him had totaled little more than six hours. Hardly long enough to form any lasting impressions.

I studied the reaper for a moment, wondering if he was telling the truth, then wondering what he’d have to gain by lying, and added, “Why do you think my father would even bother contacting me after all these years?”

“He has come to Melbourne for a reason. We believe you might be that reason.” He shrugged—a small, economical movement.

“On the other hand, he might just have come home to die.” After all, the Aedh only bred when they sensed their death was near, and while I was just over twenty-eight years old, that was merely a heartbeat in Aedh years.

“That is also possible.”

I finished the last of my Coke, then pushed the empty cup away and crossed my arms on the table—an action that brought me closer to the heat of him. It trembled across my skin in waves, warm and disturbing. But oddly, he had no scent. He might wear the flesh of a man, but he didn’t smell like one.

He didn’t smell like anything, really. Not even the rain that still beaded his skin.

“Meaning there are others like you out there searching for him?”

He hesitated, then nodded—another brief but oddly lyrical movement.

“But why? What has he done to incite such interest from the reapers?”

“It’s not what he has done, but what he might do.”

Frustration rolled through me, but there wasn’t much point in venting it. It wasn’t exactly wise to get annoyed at someone who could steal your life away between one heartbeat and the next. And though it was obvious he wanted to use me to get to my father, that wasn’t a comforting thought. Not when I knew so little about the reapers as a society or as individuals.

“So what is he up to that’s causing you so much consternation?”

He crossed his arms, and I had to resist the urge to let my gaze linger over the lean, muscular goodness such an action revealed.

Damn it, I either needed to get to Franklin’s—a discreet, upmarket wolf club—or break my vow to stop using Tao. This was getting ridiculous.

“To answer that,” he said, after considering me for entirely too long, “I really need to know just how much you know about us.”

I replied, “As much as any half-Aedh knows.”

“Which is not helpful, as I am not aware of what a half-Aedh might know.”

I swear his lips twitched as he said it—almost as if he was restraining a smile. I wondered again if reapers were capable of amusement, or whether it was simply a function of hormones that—for some damn indefinable reason—seemed to find him attractive.

But that could have been deliberate on his part. If he knew I was half Aedh, then he more than likely knew I was also half wolf, and the form he’d adopted could be an attempt to appeal to my more sensual nature. After all, the full moon was only a couple of days away, and for most werewolves this was the time of the moon heat.

But I wasn’t a normal werewolf. My Aedh DNA had apparently curtailed much of my wolf heritage, and while I had werewolf sexual sensibilities and drive, the moon had no pull on me and didn’t force a shape change during her full bloom. Hell, I couldn’t take wolf shape anytime, no matter how hard I tried. And I’d certainly tried more than once.

And yet, weirdly enough, I had inherited Mom’s Helki skill for face-shifting. I didn’t use it often, but I could, if I wanted to—and with a fair degree of effort—change basic things like hair, eyes, and facial structure. And like my mom, I could hold my altered shape for fairly long periods.

Which was handy for fancy-dress occasions, but not much else.

“Well,” I said, “this half-Aedh knows that reapers are soul guides. You take them to heaven or hell, depending on what their allotted fate is.”

“We do not call it heaven or hell. Those are human terms.”

“Then what do you call them?”

“The light or dark path.”

“Which is basically the same thing.”

He merely shrugged, but something in the way he studied me suggested I was an idiot for believing that.

Irritating, to say the least.

“And is that the sum of your knowledge?” he asked.

“I know there are gates between this world and the next—one for your so-called dark path, and one for the light. I know that Aedh priests used to guard them, but the priests no longer exist.” I eyed him for a moment. “Have the Mijai taken over that role?”

He hesitated. “Not really. We hunt what breaks through them, but we have no power over the gates themselves.”

“But you’re reapers,” I said. “Reapers escort the souls from this world through the gray fields to the next. How can you not have power over the gates?”

“As you said, the Aedh were the gatekeepers. We are merely the guides.”

“So how do the guides get the souls through the gates if they have no power to open them?”

Again his lips twitched. Part of me wished he’d smile for real. The other part was damn glad he didn’t. This man—this being—was dangerous enough.

“The gates are attuned to souls and automatically open when one approaches. But the term gates is really a misnomer. Each gate is more a series of energy portals, not an actual structure.”

“As you are not actual flesh?”

“I am flesh as of this moment. I am as real as you.”

“So why isn’t everyone in this place getting weirded out by the sword-carrying half-naked guy?”

“Because they do not see my true form. They see what they expect to see—whatever that might be.”

“But this isn’t your true form, is it? Reapers are energy beings, just as the Aedh are.”

“It might be more accurate to call us shifters. We are all born with both an energy and a flesh form, whether Aedh or reaper. The reapers can take on other forms, however, to suit what their assigned souls expect. The Aedh cannot.”

I nodded. The Aedh were also winged when they found flesh, which is why many people mistook them for angels. Thankfully, the wings were something we half-breeds missed out on. “As interesting as all this is, it’s not explaining why you’re so keen on tracking down my father.”

He uncrossed his arms and leaned forward, resting his forearms comfortably on the table’s edge. The sheer force of the heat and energy radiating off him had pinpricks of power crawling across my skin—a sensation that was uncomfortable but not exactly unpleasant.

And yet it scared the hell out of me. Uncle Quinn was the most powerful being I’d ever met, but I might as well compare a bonfire to the sun.

“Your father,” he said slowly, “is on a very dangerous mission.”

“Well, that certainly explains everything.” Not.

He didn’t seem to get the sarcasm, and continued in the same flat tone, “The portals, as I said, are set to open automatically for an approaching soul, but they can be temporarily opened via other means. Magic originating from this world has been the chief offender, but if enough power is gathered from the dark path, that gate can be opened by those on the other side.”

I frowned. “How? I mean, hell is hell. You know, a place filled with suffering, pain, and all that. How would they even have time to gather such power?”

“As I’ve already said, hell is a human term and not truly accurate. The dark path is more a place where the sins of a soul’s lifetime must be atoned for before he or she can move on, and that does not always involve suffering.”

But sometimes did, obviously. “So all the souls who walk the dark path are redeemable?”

“Yes.” He hesitated. “Those who are not are killed. That is another reason for the existence of the Mijai.”

A chill crawled down my spine. It was a stark reminder that I was sitting in front of a man who could end not only this life, but every one of my lives, for all eternity. I rubbed my arms and said, “Once the souls are redeemed, are they reborn?” When he nodded, I added, “How?”

“There is only one way in and out of the dark path, and that is back through the portals.”

“Meaning the gates are two-way?”

“Yes. Once souls are allowed back through the portal, we escort them across the fields to the light path.”

“Are they instantly reborn there?”

“Sometimes. Sometimes not.” He shrugged. “It depends on demand and how many souls are already waiting.”

So what did the souls do if they weren’t reborn instantly? Float around playing harps? The thought made me smile, even though I recognized the foolishness of it. “So how does this relate to my father?”