Page 21 of A Touch of Crimson
“And you want to help me get it?” Her expression was wary and assessing. “How would you do that, exactly? Why would you?”
“Why not? Our goals are the same. You’ve been lucky so far, but that won’t last. One day soon, you’re going to take down a demon or vamp who has friends who’ll hunt you, or you’ll miss your target. Either way, your days are numbered.”
“Can you teach me the difference between vampires and demons?”
“So you have a preference.” He crossed his arms. “I can point you in the right direction and give you backup. I can train you how to hunt more effectively and show you how to kill without relying on surprise. Right now, you’re floating aimlessly, waiting for random encounters. I can give you focus and specific targets.”
Lindsay leaned back in her chair. “You don’t even know me.”
Her proclivities, while deeply troubling, provided him with an ideal excuse to keep her close. “I’m holding the front line in a battle in which I’m outnumbered. I can use every soldier.”
“But this isn’t all I do. I have a regular life and a job.”
“So do I. We can work out the logistics together.”
She caught her lower lip between her teeth. After an interminable moment, she nodded. “Okay.”
Perfect. He enjoyed a moment of sharp satisfaction. Then he heard the front door open. A moment later, Damien stepped into view.
Adrian’s focus shifted to the expected report on Phineas’s death. “Join us.”
The Sentinel entered the kitchen. He glanced briefly at Lindsay, then turned his attention to Adrian. “Captain.”
Introducing them, Adrian made a point of identifying Lindsay as a recruit.
Damien’s seraph blue eyes returned to her. “Ms. Gibson.”
“Call me Lindsay, please.”
“Speak freely,” Adrian prompted Damien, giving the Sentinel a look that told him to hold his questions about Lindsay’s incarnation of Shadoe until later.
There was a moment of hesitation; then Damien began relaying the details. “I didn’t get a lot of usable information out of Phineas’s surviving lycan. The beast was incoherent with grief. He did say that the vampire who attacked them was sick. I’m not sure if he meant physically ill or mentally twisted. The attack was especially brutal, so it could very well be the latter. Phineas’s neck was gnawed down to his spinal cord.”
Lindsay cleared her throat. “Lycans? As in werewolves?”
Adrian glanced at her. “Werewolves are demons. Lycans share a bloodline with them, which allows them to shapeshift in a similar manner. But unlike weres, they were once angels.”
“And as a heads-up,” Damien added grimly, “they get very offended if anyone calls them werewolves.”
“Angels.” Lindsay’s eyes were wide and dark, the irises a mere sliver of brown around dilated pupils.“Why didn’t they become vampires?”
“Because I needed reinforcement,” Adrian said. “We came to an agreement—I would petition the Creator to spare them from vampirism if they agreed to help me keep the vampires in line.”
“Were they part of the same group of angels, the vampires and the lycans?”
“Yes.”
Her only sign of disquiet was the way she twisted her glass of water back and forth on the countertop. “I’m sorry about your…Phineas.”
“My second-in-command. My friend—no, more than a friend. He was like a brother to me.” Adrian had retracted his wings during dinner, but they unfurled again, flexing with his inner agitation and thirst for battle.
Her gaze followed the upper curve of one wing, softening. He felt that tender look as if she’d touched him directly.
She slid off the stool and stood.“Do we know enough to hunt the bastard who killed him?”
Her use of “we” didn’t escape him. “We will.”
Damien shot her another look, this one less antagonistic than the previous. “From what I could gather, Phineas was ambushed. He stopped only to feed the lycans.”
