On Midnight Wings

Ain’t doing it for you. Doing it because I want to. Hey, you felt anything through the bond from Dante?

No. Nothing new, anyway. But don’t worry—I’ll call as soon as I find him.

Heather goosed the speedometer to 85 mph, mulling over everything she’d just learned, including her brief, tense conversation with the assassin’s nightkind brother after she and Silver had respectively filled each other in—Von missing, De Noir silent and most likely still in Gehenna, Mauvais and his new Fallen friend, her escape from SB agents and Cortini.

She tried to kill you?

Yes, but something was very wrong with her. I’ve seen Dante when his programming was triggered and, well, her behavior kind of reminded me of that. Like someone else was pulling the strings.

Molte grazie for not killing her. Where can I find her?

At an abandoned rest stop on I-530 South, near Pine Bluff.

The night blurred past in a streamer of oncoming headlights and red taillights, of soft light glittering from windows in faraway homes, of white lines disappearing beneath the bulleting Nissan. Heather’s hands white-knuckled against the steering wheel.

I feel like I’m running out of time, catin.

No, cher, no. I refuse to lose you.

Too late. Too late. Too late. The clock has run out.

Heather shoved aside the despairing and traitorous thought, refused to examine yet again what she had felt through the bond nearly an hour ago—a shattering desperation, a crumbling resolve, an overwhelming sense of loss.

She hadn’t lied to Silver just to protect him from bad news; she’d lied because she hadn’t been able to say the words, hadn’t been able to force them from her throat.

I think what we’ve all feared, what we all fought to prevent, has happened—

. . . I think he’s had all he can take, doll. Heart and mind . . .

—and Dante has finally broken.

Eyes burning, Heather pressed harder on the gas pedal, following the bond, following her heart, to Baton Rouge.

I feel like I’m running out of time, catin.

No, cher, no. I refuse to lose you.

That was a promise she intended to keep.

ANNIE TUCKED HER CELL phone back into her jeans pocket, watching as Silver rubbed his face in frustration. The relief—hell, be honest, the fucking joy—she’d felt at hearing her sister’s voice, a voice she’d feared she’d never hear again, dimmed a little at Silver’s expression. “Since I seem to be lacking nightkind eavesdropping power, what did she say?”

Silver sighed. He looked at Annie from beneath his dark lashes. “She’s okay, she’s going after Dante and ain’t about to wait for us to catch up.”

Merri scooted out of the booth so that tall, dark, and snobby Giovanni with his sexy Italian purr of a voice could slide out. He pulled a handful of twenties from the pocket of his designer jeans and tossed them on the table. “My treat,” he said with a sexy half-shrug. Looking at Silver, he added, “And thanks for taking me into your confidence.”

“Remember, you gave me your word.”

Giovanni nodded. “I won’t say anything, not even to Renata until after

Dante is safe.” He headed for the tavern’s entrance. “I’ll be in touch after I’ve taken care of Caterina,” he called over his shoulder as he pulled the door open. “Ciao, belli.”

Silver shook his head. “Hope I didn’t make a mistake there.”

“If it’s any comfort, I don’t think you did,” Merri said. “But if his mère de sang suspects he is hiding something from her, believe me, she’ll pry it out of him.”

“Then let’s hope he’s good at hiding shit. Ready to quit sitting on your ass and twiddling your thumbs?”

“What do you think, Zero-boy?” Merri snorted, rising to her feet. “But we should feed before we go. Looks like there’s any number of willing volunteers across the street.”

Silver looked up at the ceiling, regret on his face. Annie figured he was thinking about the tasty SB agents upstairs. “Okay,” he said, lowering his gaze to look at Annie. “Wait here, all right? We won’t be long.”

“I’ll order another beer, so take your time.” Annie lifted her mug and polished off her Abita, ignoring Silver’s frown.

Silver and Merri moved across the room in double streaks of pale skin and black clothing, of purple and black hair.