Archangel’s Consort (Guild Hunter #3)(37)
Author: Nalini Singh

No negotiation. Nothing but an archangel’s expectation of obedience.

If he thought that was the end of—

“Ellie?” Sara’s voice sounded as if it was coming from the moon. “Where are you?”

“Approximately halfway to Boston,” she said, then got straight to the reason why she’d called. “Why did you pull me in?” Not that she wasn’t happy to be back in the field, but the Guild had any number of hunters at its disposal.

Sara’s voice dropped out for a second, came back. “… all over the place. We need everyone we’ve got.”

“What?” Elena pressed on the headphones. “Repeat that.”

“Vampires breaking their Contracts all over the place,” Sara said. “It’s like some weird—” A crackle of noise and the call dropped completely. But Elena had heard enough—chaos on this scale could only be connected to one thing . . . only one being.

Caliane.

16

Ransom was waiting near the deserted concrete pier in Boston where he’d asked her and Venom to land when she’d made contact as they came into the city. Lifting her off her feet as soon as she reached him, he planted a smacking kiss on her laughing lips. “Ellie, those wings sure are sexy.”

God, it was good to see him. “Put me down, gorgeous.”

“Archangel the jealous type?” He continued to hold her, which argued to his strength—her muscle mass was high to begin with and her wings only added to that.

Pushing at his shoulders, she freed herself. “I thought we had a vampire to catch?”

“Yeah, come on.” His face—a stunning mix of Native American skin and bone structure, and eyes of Irish green—was suddenly all business. “The trail leads to a particular section of warehouses about five minutes away on foot. That’s why I asked you to land here.”

“If you’re so close,” she said, “why did you wait for me?” Pretty as he was, Ransom was also one of the Guild’s top hunters, someone she’d have at her back anytime.

“It’s not just one, Ellie.” He began to lead her past a huge boathouse and toward a number of warehouses she could see in the distance. “And they’re helping each other.”

“Shit.” It was rare, very rare, for vampires to hunt together—but when they did … “What’s the body count?”

“Twenty-two, last I heard.” Ransom’s long hair, a sleek tail down his back, shifted in the breeze as he gave her the update. “But that was half an hour ago.”

“They can’t be feeding if they’re moving that fast.” Which meant they were killing for the hell of it, and that made them a plague. “You said they’re helping each other—are they acting like they’re thinking?”

“Not on a complex level, but someone’s definitely home upstairs. Weird, huh?”

Elena thought of Ignatius, wondered if Neha hadn’t gotten the message after all.

Iron in the air, thick, fresh.

Ransom brought up a hand at the same instant that she caught the scent.

Raising her wings and tucking them tight to her body—something she’d finally learned to do on command—she took a long, quiet breath.

Motor oil and fish.

Blood, rancid fat, effluent.

Blueberries bursting open, their juices staining the earth.

Any and all of them could be vampiric scents, but Ransom didn’t need her nose today. He needed good old-fashioned backup. Pulling out the weapon Deacon had designed for her, the one she’d taken to calling her “blade-bow,” she fell in behind him as the other hunter led her and Venom through the labyrinthine passageways between the warehouses.

The day had turned dull about an hour ago, clouds racing to cover the sun, and now, a fat pellet of rain hit Elena’s cheek. She bit back a curse. If the vampires decided to run, the rain would be their willing accomplice in washing away the trail. Which meant they had to neutralize the targets here—retrieval was simply not on the table, not if the vampires were hunting in a pack.

Her wing brushed against something sharp, snagged. She bit down on her lower lip to quiet her gasp and stopped just long enough to unhook her wing from the rusty nail. Blood darkened the midnight blue feathers near the center of her right wing, but she was more worried about tetanus. An instant later, she remembered she was no longer vulnerable to disease—she still wasn’t going to be punching corroded nails into her body anytime soon.

Continuing to hug one side of the thin alleyway as Ransom took the other, she glanced back at Venom. The vampire was sticking to her but keeping enough of a distance that he wouldn’t be a liability in a fight—in fact, given what she’d seen of his skills, he’d be an asset.

Blueberries, ripe, ripe blueberries.

She hissed under her breath at Ransom. When he turned, she motioned toward a warehouse about three down from where they currently stood. She saw him nod just before the skies opened and rain sleeted down like some great faucet had been turned on in the heavens.

“Fuck,” she muttered, and abandoning all ideas of subtlety, ran toward the back of the warehouse as Ransom circled around to the front. She was only two feet from the wooden door when she caught a hint of sharp, astringent mint in the air, and then she was being slammed down onto the wet asphalt. Skin tore off her cheek, and her right hand landed awkwardly enough that she might have broken her wrist if she hadn’t begun to half roll at the instant of contact. As it was, one of her wings crumpled under her with a searing pain that she hoped like hell didn’t mean she’d broken one of the fine bones within.

The weight on her back was gone the next moment, and she didn’t have to look to know that Venom was dealing with the vampire who’d attacked. She took one glance to make sure he had the upper hand—oh, yeah—before leaving him to it and closing the distance to the door. She could hear the hard, thudding sounds of fighting now, as well as a wave of eerie laughter from within, which meant they’d ambushed Ransom as well.

Her hand tightened on the blade-bow.

“Wait.” Venom’s breath at her ear, his hand on her arm. “Go up, come in through the roof—from the state of this place, it’s probably half rotten anyway.”

That would be a huge advantage but—“Can’t do a vertical takeoff.”

Venom went down on one knee, his eyes preternaturally vivid in the rain, his sunglasses having been lost in the fight. When he cupped his hands, she realized what he intended and slung the blade-bow over her shoulder. “Ready?” She put one foot in his cupped hands, rested her hands on his muscled shoulders. At his nod, she said, “Go.”