Page 111 of Cry of the Firebird

"I wasn't the one who pissed off in the middle of the night. You left me, Belle, remember? I tried hunting you down, and when I finally did, it was after the whole place had been blown to bits," he growled.

"I left to protect you, moron. I had enemies closing in on me. Do you think I could sit back and watch them murder you to get back at me?"

"I didn't need protecting," Hamish said stubbornly. "Even if you would have said goodbye and ended it properly, it would have been different. You weren't some random chick I picked up at the pub, and you know it, so don't pretend otherwise."

Isabelle folded her arms of her chest. Vulnerable, pissed off, and half-naked wasn't the way she wanted to have this conversation. "By the time the heat was off me, too much time had passed. I wouldn't risk it again. It's not that I didn't want to find you, but a lot changed, and I didn't need the reputation of being a hunter who had sex with her targets instead of killing them."

"Don't bullshit me, Belle. You've never given a crap what other hunters thought of you, so what changed?"

Isabelle pulled her long hair down over her neck to hide the scar. She wasn't about to tell anyone about that. God had a cruelsense of humor to let their paths cross again. Hamish offered her his clean white T-shirt.

"Thank you," she mumbled and slipped it over her head. "I'm going back to bed. I'll tell you some other night when I'm up to it. Tonight, I'm not, and you are just going to have to accept that. For what it's worth, I thought I was doing the right thing when I left you." She turned and began to walk away from him.

"Hey, Belle." She glanced over her shoulder at him. He was looking nervous as he stammered, "About the weight comment. I'm sorry, I was an asshole. It looks good on you. You've always been too fucking gorgeous for your own good."

"Thanks for clarifying. I'll sleep better tonight," she said sarcastically. "Dick."

"Don't use that tone. I was trying to apologize," he said as he walked up behind her. "I would like us to be civil to each other, even if it's just for Trajan's sake."

They had started moving up the stairs, and Hamish's hand brushed hers where it rested on the banister. She pulled her hand away quickly, the feel of his skin hot on hers.

"Yeah, whatever. Goodnight, Belle." Hamish pushed past her, leaving her standing there, cursing the day she had walked through Trajan's door.

The next morning,Isabelle woke to her notification alerts going off on her laptop. She opened a tired, gritty eye and groaned. She had made a promise to train Anya some basic hand to hand combat while the others made final decisions on where they should go in the world next.

The incident with Hamish the night before rushed back to her, and she buried her head under the pillows. She wasn't ready to deal with the world again.

Within ten minutes, Isabelle's phone roared with Harley's ring tone of motorbike engines revving loudly. With a sigh, she crawled out of bed and opened her message.

Read ur email. It's IMPORTANT. Luv H.

Isabelle looked down at Hamish's T-shirt. She had been so upset the night before, she had washed the pee off her leg and climbed into bed. His scent left on his shirt was now assaulting her.

The nightmare continues. She pulled it off and dropped it onto the carpet.

Isabelle couldn't help but smile when she opened up Harley's email. It was splashed with her motorcycle shop's logo, and the colors were bright enough to make her eyes ache.Legba's Ladieswas a dominantly women-run motorcycle fabricator workshop in New Orleans, and the three men who worked there considered themselves the luckiest men in the world.

Harley had been born to two motorcycle mechanics in New Orleans. The story went that her father had to deliver her on the shop’s floor on his favorite Harley Davidson leather jacket. She had been christened Harley that night, and now she had taken over their business, earning her a reputation as one of the best.

Harley had made Isabelle her custom motorcycle that was down in Trajan's garage. It had all sorts of interesting features hidden from the naked eye, like a place for spare knives and silver blades that shot out of the sides of her wheels. Harley had got that idea after watching the chariots in the movieGladiator.

Holy symbols had been stamped into different parts of the frame, and Fox had airbrushed a fierce, blonde Valkyrie on the fuel tank. Fox wasn't only a talented artist, but the best hacker Isabelle had ever seen.

Between them, Harley and Fox were the best researchers Isabelle knew, and they had never let her down yet. Isabelle scrolled down the page of her email with a sigh, reading all the research they found on the Nehemoth as well as an offer for Harley to fly over if they needed her. Harley was like a little sister and was one of the few women Isabelle actually liked. This was big trouble, and there was no way in seven hells Isabelle was going to get Harley in the Darkness's line of fire.

A soft knock at the door snapped her out of her inner argument.

"Just a minute," she called as she found a dressing gown and wrapped it around her. She picked up Hamish's shirt and stuffed it under a blanket.

Trajan was waiting patiently outside of her door as she opened it. "Sorry to interrupt, Isabelle, but have you seen Hamish at all?"

Isabelle's hand on the door handle tightened as unexpected fear curled in her chest. "He's not in the mansion?"

"No. I can't find him anywhere," he replied, shaking his head.

"We had a fight in the garden last night. I went to bed and figured he did the same," Isabelle admitted. "Do you think someone has snatched him?"

"I don't believe so, but I don't know what would've gotten to him enough to want to leave the safety of the mansion." Isabelle knew precisely what had gotten to him. Her.Goddamn it.

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