Lesley Davis - Dark Wings Descending

by Lesley Davis

  Ashley’s mouth gaped. Oh my God, she can see through my glamour. She can see me. Unable to stop staring at the angry face before her, Ashley inspected the cruel damage that had been wrought on Rafe. Without thinking, she reached up to touch the bruises. “What happened to you?” Ashley stroked Rafe’s cheek gently, and for a moment the body holding her so tightly against the wall stiffened, then softened fractionally. Eyes closing, Rafe seemed to lean into her for comfort. Ashley murmured softly to her, touching each and every mark that marred Rafe’s skin. She ran her fingertips over the vivid bruises that left their purpling trail across Rafe’s forehead. A scratch mark, still rough and jagged, stood out on her temple. The raw edges all but burned Ashley’s flesh, and she jerked her hand away, gasping at the pain. Rafe’s head lifted as if she were awakening, her eyes dazed.

  “You’ve been marked by a demon,” Ashley said.

  “A what?” Rafe sounded confused, if not a little drugged. She blinked at Ashley. “What are all these lights?”

  Unnerved, Ashley slipped from Rafe’s hold and made a dash for the stairwell. She knew full well that Rafe wouldn’t be able to follow her. Mindful of the cameras positioned in every corner, she kept her disguise in place until she found a bathroom to rush into. Finally emerging as a female civilian, Ashley slipped free from the precinct armed with her report and a USB full of “Eyes Only” material she’d garnered from the police officer’s computer. She’d slip back in later to see what she could gather from the DDU’s own logs, but not while she knew Rafe Douglas was in the building. She opened her cell phone and pressed a button.

  “Eli, we have a big problem.”

  *

  Rafe was struggling to stay awake. She slid down the wall until she ended up on her knees, lethargy seeping through every pore. All she could hear in her head were the soft comforting words from the blonde who had touched her so tenderly. Rafe blinked, her eyesight finally clear of the golden shimmers she’d witnessed surrounding the woman. Unsteadily, she ran her hands over her face and touched the jagged edges where Armitage’s horn had cut her open. Rafe hadn’t corrected the doctors when they had concluded it came from her being pistol-whipped. She hadn’t said a lot about that night.

  She tried to get to her feet, feeling unsteady and a little woozy. I chase an intruder out of the office and she does what? Drugs me somehow? Mesmerizes me? Leaning against the wall for support, Rafe was at a loss to explain her feelings. She felt bereft, adrift, and more than a little confused. When the blonde had touched her, she’d felt curiously safe. Who the hell is she? Because she sure as hell wasn’t Detective Powell. She drew a finger along the scratch that broke her skin, tracing the path the woman had touched. It felt a little less raw. Rafe managed to push herself away from the wall and slowly made her way back to the office. Her mind spun. What the fuck just happened here?

  *

  Never stopping in her mad dash across the city to her apartment, Ashley didn’t feel safe until she slammed home the bolt on her front door.

  “Productive trip?” Eli asked from his usual perch before the picture board.

  “One of the detectives can see me.”

  “Really?”

  Ashley balled her fists on her hips at his tone. “Yes, really. As in see me, see me. She can see right through the glamour to the real me inside.” She was surprised to see Eli’s eyes widen, since he rarely changed expressions. “And that’s not all; she reacted to my healing.”

  “You were touching her?” His voice rose an octave.

  “She’s been hurt. I couldn’t help myself. Her injuries called to me.” Ashley threw herself into a chair and pulled her knees up to her chest. “You could have told me one of the detectives on this case was so damn gorgeous, for a start.”

  “Is she, now?”

  “Wickedly handsome, all dark and brooding, with a face just this side of austere…until I touched her and she melted in my hands. But she’s been hurt so badly. What happened to her, Eli? You have to know.”

  Eli remained quiet.

  “She also sports a scratch from a demon horn. It scalded me when I touched it. How did a member of the newly assigned DDU get into an altercation with a demon, Eli? Can you tell me that at least?”

  “She’s a detective, so I’d wager one of her cases led her to a perpetrator whose blood wasn’t entirely human.”

  Ashley scrubbed at her face with her hands. “You drive me insane sometimes, do you know that? I can never get a straight answer out of you.”

  “I’m not here for answers, Ashley.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know. The old ‘free will’ speech. I’ve heard it all my life, Eli. I know the drill.” She rested her head back against the chair and narrowed her eyes at him. “Did you have knowledge of her and the demon scratch and her role in the DDU before you sent me in?” She frowned as Eli looked at her with calm serenity. “You mention one word about destiny and I am throwing you out of the window.”

  “We’re two stories up.”

  “Then you’d better hope that the rumors you can fly are true.” Ashley dragged herself to her feet and handed him the file. “Here. See if there’s anything in there that adds to what we already know.” She grumbled as she slapped the USB stick down by her laptop. “Why I can’t go in as the private investigator I am is beyond me.”

  “Because you’re not searching for the same thing they are,” Eli said.

  Ashley stormed out of the room and locked herself in the bathroom. She caught sight of her image in the mirror, and for a long moment just looked. “She could see me. How long has it been since someone has really taken the time to see me?” She sat on the edge of the bathtub and hung her head. “And now she’s never going to want to see me again.” Staring at her fingertips, she recalled how soft Rafe’s face felt. “Trust me to find the only detective in the city touched by a demon. How’s that for damned fortune favoring the foolish?”

  Chapter Five

  “You’ve been off all afternoon, Rafe. Do you need to wait in the car at this place?” Dean pulled up at the fifth meat storage facility and wrinkled his nose at the unmistakable smell of animal flesh wafting through the window.

  Rafe waved him off. “I’m fine. I’ll probably never be able to order a burger again, but I’m okay, honestly. Second day properly back and all that. I’ll get into my stride again soon.”

  Dean didn’t sound convinced. “If you’re sure. You’ve been awfully pale these past two hours, a little green even.”

  “I’m sure, and if you dare try to hold my door open for me again, I swear I’ll pistol-whip you.”

  Dean struggled to hold back a laugh. “Now, there’s the detective I know and love!” He pulled himself out of the car and watched as Rafe struggled to get out from her side. “How about we make this our last call today? I’m getting sick of seeing dead bodies hanging from hooks when they should be sizzling on my plate.”

  Rafe unobtrusively leaned against the car for support. “Sure. If you can’t stomach any more. This one is the nearest to our first killing. Maybe we’ll strike lucky.”

  “Keep dreaming, Detective.” Dean snorted and led the way. “The previous factories were all the same—full to the rafters with illegal immigrants who scatter like cockroaches the second the light hits our badges, and suddenly no one speaks English when we question them. You’d think they’d want him caught.”

  “Maybe we can get some uniforms to canvass the area, some who have more than one language to their credit.”

  “Do you really think he’s going to be a butcher?”

  Rafe shrugged. “I trust Blythe’s profile. She has an excellent success rate. Her team is very much sought after even without the profiling. She works with an amazing team of detectives.”

  “Is she single?” Dean asked, pretending to be looking at the building before them, but Rafe wasn’t fooled in the least.

  “Don’t you ever give up?”

  “You can’t blame a guy for trying to find the love of his life, and you
have to admit, Rafe, she’s a stunner. All that black hair, and her eyes. A guy could get seriously lost in those eyes.”

  Smiling smugly, Rafe let him continue to rhapsodize. He finally caught her look.

  “Oh come on, don’t tell me she bats for your team.”

  “I’m not saying anything about Special Agent Blythe Kent other than she is an exemplary agent.”

  “Oh God, she is. She’s a lesbian,” he wailed. “But she’s such a beauty.”

  “Yes, she is, and don’t worry. Many of the women who fall at her feet appreciate what a marvel she is too.”

  Dean shook his head. “Another dream bites the dust.”

  “You saw her briefly on the conference call, Dean, and you were already building the little house with the picket fence?”

  “Sometimes you just feel an instant connection, that recognition as soul meets soul, the instant rush of lust…er, attraction,” he hastily amended.

  Rafe’s good humor died at his words. She’d all but climbed into the arms of the blonde who’d breezed into their office, then disappeared. I can’t believe I let her go. Rafe had double-checked with Alona what reports had been given out. None of it was too sensitive that it couldn’t be handled properly should it wind up in the hands of the press. On subtly questioning her, Rafe was still disturbed that Alona had only seen Detective Powell in the office with them.

  I can’t believe how out of character I acted and that I just let her slip from my grasp, she berated herself again. She couldn’t help but wonder if it was the question of the woman’s identity or the way she made Rafe feel that bothered her the most.

  *

  Pretending to be part of the police headquarters night staff provided Ashley with her easy entry back into the department. She rode the elevator back up to the third floor and wheeled the cleaning cart she’d appropriated down the hallway. The DDU office was mercifully dark, and Ashley breathed a sigh of relief as she opened the door and eased inside.

  “I wondered if you’d be back.”

  Ashley clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle her scream. She looked around the room until a small desk lamp clicked on, illuminating Detective Rafe Douglas.

  “What are you still doing here?” Ashley went on the defensive.

  “It’s my office; I work here.”

  “It’s also very late. You should be home resting.” Ashley couldn’t curb the sound of censure from her tone.

  “I appreciate your concern. It’s very kind of you, seeing as this is the second time today you’ve entered this office without permission.”

  Ashley held up the file she’d taken. “I was returning this.”

  Rafe stood and slowly walked toward her. “I’m sorry your earlier trip turned out to be a wasted journey. What were you hoping for? Something to curry favor with your boss at some newspaper or another? A National Enquirer exposé?”

  Ashley shook her head. “I don’t work for a newspaper. I’m in the same line of business you are, Detective.”

  Rafe propped herself against the table edge and folded her arms, her face stormy. “I detect. You seem to excel at breaking and entering. How are we remotely the same?”

  “I’m a private investigator.” Ashley frowned at Rafe’s derisive laughter.

  “Like I’ve never heard that one before.” Rafe rubbed at her eyes. “You’re always surrounded by light. Is that how you manipulate people? You migraine them into submission?”

  “Are there cameras in this room?” Ashley asked, furtively looking around.

  “The whole building is watched.” Rafe gave Ashley a pointed look. “Though obviously not well enough.”

  “Then I can’t talk to you here. Is there somewhere we can go to talk?”

  “I was preparing to go home.”

  “Then take me home with you.”

  “Sure, why not? You’ve already gotten access into my place of work; what’s giving you knowledge of my private address too? You want to case that place too?”

  “I’m not a thief,” Ashley said and had the grace to concede to Rafe’s incredulous look. “It’s really not how it looks.” She was grateful Rafe had no idea that she was back in the building armed with another USB stick ready to raid their computer files.

  “It never is,” Rafe muttered.

  Ashley edged closer to Rafe. In the pale light cast from the low light, she could see how pale and drawn she looked. Her eyes were bloodshot and she seemed unsteady.

  “Were you really waiting for me to return, Detective, or were you too tired to make the move to get home under your own steam?”

  Rafe instantly bristled and stood tall. “I’m perfectly capable of leaving here.”

  “Then let’s go so you and I can start again on a more equal footing.”

  “You’re an information thief,” Rafe grumbled, wandering back to gather up her jacket and to turn off the lamp. “God, who needs a light when they can just follow the light you give off?”

  Ashley resisted the urge to rest a hand on Rafe’s arm to guide her out the door. The uneven gait to Rafe’s walk belied her insistence she was fine.

  “How long has it been since you were discharged from the hospital, Detective?”

  “Long enough, and I don’t need another mother.” Rafe stared down at Ashley as she jammed her woolen hat over her shorn hair. “Who are you? What the hell do I call you when I arrest you for tampering with police property?”

  Ashley guided Rafe to the elevator and they waited in silence. Rafe was trying not to take her eyes off her, but she was starting to squint.

  “I could just call you Sparky, what with all the bright lights you’ve got flashing around you like a million fireflies.”

  “You could just be imagining things, Detective. Your face tells the story of how pretty banged up you’ve been.”

  “No, I’m seeing everything perfectly, but you somehow managed to make my fellow officers think you were someone else when you sure as hell are not her.”

  Ashley pulled Rafe inside the empty elevator and pressed for the ground floor. “What do you see, Detective?” She tried not to flinch under Rafe’s scrutiny.

  “I see more flashing lights than there are fireworks at a Fourth of July party covering you from head to toe. I can see short blond hair and a pretty face that just doesn’t lend itself to a life of crime, but I could be wrong.”

  She thinks I’m pretty. Ashley’s body warmed under Rafe’s constant gaze.

  “I see street clothes, black leather, black jeans—a burglar’s standard uniform.”

  Ashley laughed. “You just don’t quit, do you? I’m not a bad guy, Detective.”

  “Sure, Sparky,” Rafe said as she followed Ashley out of the building. Once outside, Ashley flagged down a taxi. With a sideways glance, Rafe gave the driver her address, then sat back against the seat, her eyes closing and her breath becoming labored.

  Putting her hand to Rafe’s forehead, Ashley was surprised by how chilled her skin felt, except for the burning area that was the length of the scratch. Ashley spoke to the driver. “There’s an extra ten dollars in it for you if you can get us there quicker.” She fell back in her seat as the man put his foot down and they sped ahead. “Rafe, try to stay awake, please. I can’t carry you.”

  “You know my name.”

  “Yes, I do, and I know you’re very sick.”

  “I’m fine, just tired. First days back at work and all that.”

  No, you’re actually being poisoned slowly but surely by the demon scratch that no modern medicine can cleanse.

  Ashley thrust a handful of cash at the driver when he pulled up in front of Rafe’s two-story home. She pulled Rafe out of the back of the taxi and half carried, half dragged her to the front door. “Where are your keys?”

  Rafe drunkenly patted at her jacket, and Ashley fumbled through her clothing to find them.

  “Don’t let the cat out,” Rafe mumbled, leaving Ashley wondering what the hell she meant until she got inside the house and the sound of
a plaintive meow rang out. Ashley kicked the door closed behind her, then followed the hallway through to a small living area where she was able to get Rafe to lie down on a couch. She eased her down to stretch out full-length and then knelt beside her.

  “I’ve got nothing worth taking.”

  Ashley smiled at Rafe’s one-track mind but deliberately ignored her comment. “Are you watching, Detective? You’re not going to want to miss this.” She removed the glamour surrounding herself and saw Rafe’s mouth ease into a relieved smile.

  “No more lights,” she said. “How’d you do that?”

  “Magic.” Ashley took off her jacket and rolled up her shirt sleeves. “I’m going to need you to trust me.”

  “So much prettier without all the sparkly bits.” Rafe’s voice trailed off as she started to ramble. “Such beautiful blue eyes for a thief too.”

  “You’re very sick, but I can help you.” Ashley gently removed the woolly hat and placed her hands on Rafe’s face.

  “Your hands are soft,” Rafe said. “What’s your name, Sparky?”

  “Ashley Scott.”

  Rafe repeated it. “Ashley.” She opened her eyes to look at her. “Am I dying, Ashley Scott?”

  Surprised by how easily and without fear Rafe asked the question, Ashley stumbled over her reply. “No, no, Rafe, you’re not dying. You’re very sick, though.”

  “I should have died that night in the alley, but Dean shot the guy. Big bastard he was too. He had horns that grew out of his temples as I watched, and these flaming red eyes.” Rafe shivered under Ashley’s touch. “Glowing red eyes. You don’t have those. You have golden sparkles instead.” She closed her eyes once more. “Am I going crazy, Ashley? Because it feels like I am.”

  “No, you’re not. You’re just seeing things no one is meant to see.” Ashley felt something bang her elbow. A black head butted her again. “Hi, kitty.” The big cat climbed into her lap and pressed in close, rubbing its head on her arm.