Gabriel put his hand on my arm. “I do not like this.”
I turned toward him, touched his cheek. “You can’t always protect me.”
He frowned. “I do not know any other way to be.”
I kissed him swiftly and turned away, aware of Beezle and Samiel watching us with unabashed curiosity. One of these days I was going to take Gabriel to a deserted island, far away from prying eyes.
I took a deep breath, trying to quell the nausea that would not leave and the feeling that I was about to do something incredibly stupid. Again.
I put my hand on the wall next to the blinking light of the magnetic strip. Lucifer’s sword rattled in its sheath, and the snake on my palm tingled.
“I am the Hound of the Hunt,” I said, the words flowing easily, as if I had said them before. “No walls can hide my quarry.”
The surface felt suddenly fluid beneath my fingers and my arm slid through it as easily as water. I glanced back at the others. Gabriel looked tense, Samiel worried. Beezle gave me a thumbs-up.
“Draw your sword,” Gabriel whispered. “You know not what enemies may await.”
I pulled the sword from its scabbard and readied myself.
“I’m going to try and open the door from inside without triggering the alarm. If I can’t do that and I’m not back in half an hour, call J.B. and tell him to bring a retrieval unit.”
Gabriel nodded. I slipped through the wall, sword at the ready, and shocked the hell out of the charcarion demon sitting at a receptionist’s desk.
The demon’s mouth dropped open. I took two fast steps forward and threw the sword like a javelin at the demon’s head. The sword passed cleanly through the demon’s open mouth and pinned him like an insect to the wall behind him.
I had to have had some supernatural help on that one because there was no way that I was that competent a swordswoman. I looked at the snake on my hand and it winked at me. I may never get over the extreme weirdness of having a sentient tattoo.
The demon gurgled and flailed for a moment, then went still. I pulled the sword from its body, the blade coated in green-gray blood.
Now that the immediate threat was over I was able to look around. The interior was surprisingly clean and new-looking. It could have been the reception area of any office downtown—paneled walls, light gray carpet, half-moon reception desk.
The entry door was behind me, and when I turned to look at it I saw a flashing keypad. Chances were good that it was rigged to sound an alarm if it was opened without a code. So if I opened it up and let the others in, then I might as well have let Samiel break down the door in the first place. I guess I was on my own for the moment.
To my right was a long hallway. Several closed doors faced the hall. To my left was another door with a magnetic strip for a key card.
The doors to the right were likely offices. I didn’t want to take a chance on disturbing anyone at work who might raise an alarm. Besides, the presence of extra security meant that whatever was interesting in the warehouse was probably behind that door.
I took a deep breath and then a giant step through the door, my heart pounding in my chest, terrified that some guard on the other side of the door would raise a cry as soon as I went through.
There was no guard on the other side. There was no need.
Three gigantic spiders hung suspended from the ceiling, which was several dozen feet above me. The miasma filled the room so thickly I could hardly breathe. I felt my stomach heave in protest. I swallowed rapidly and breathed through my nose. Puking on the floor would definitely attract the spiders’ attention.
Once I got myself under control (and was able to look away from the horror of the spiders), I surveyed the rest of the room. My heart sank.
The room was filled with people, maybe sixty or seventy of them, all sitting bound and silent in plain wooden chairs. Their eyes were taped open and in front of each person was one of those camera things doing an eyeball scan with a laser. Several people were pale and slumped over.
There was nothing for it. I needed help. There was no way I’d be able to free all of these people and herd them out (screaming, no doubt) under the watchful eye of the spiders. The creatures appeared to be dozing right now, which was the only way I’d managed to escape detection.
I was about to step out quietly when a movement about halfway down the room caught my eye.
The familiar silvery wisps that indicated a soul rose from the body of a young woman in her mid-twenties who’d just breathed her last breath. There was no Agent present but me, which meant that this death was not a part of the natural order.
I unfurled my wings and blinked out of sight. I just hoped the spiders wouldn’t be able to see me anyway. I’d learned the hard way that some supernatural creatures can see through the Agent’s veil.
I flew over the heads of the other prisoners and touched down softly next to the woman’s body. Her soul was emerging much more slowly than a soul usually did, and it was twisting and writhing as it came.
Usually a soul looks just like a mirror image of the living person—except, you know, see-through. But this soul didn’t seem to know what it was supposed to look like. The pieces of her face kept scattering and re-forming, and even then the result didn’t look quite right, like a digital image missing some pixels.
Despite her indistinct features, I could tell her eyes were wide, staring up, her mouth open in a silent scream. I thought she was reacting to the trauma of the machines, but I realized a second before it landed on my head that she was watching one of the giant spiders descending swiftly and silently. I stumbled away as the spider picked up the dead body and began to wrap it in silk. Her soul struggled in terror, trying to break free of her mortal shell.