Page 9 of Dark Shadow of Guilt

Dom grabbed the handle, jerked on it, and, grabbing the back of Ike’s ragged tee, shoved him through the door. The Scourge stumbled, falling to the ground. The Feard stepped over him, Ely and Remi racing forward to flank their brother assassin.

Nothing.

The place was empty. Dom’s nostrils quivered as he picked up a faint scent beneath the stale air of the warehouse. The female. She had a rich, layered aroma. He had sensed something similar before. It was when he had been in the OneCreator’s library in Vast.Books. Ancient ones. Classics. The boundless array of learning had appealed to his senses. And floating just above that scholarly bouquet was the spice of the skies beyond his home, the free territory between Vast and Angor. Also, OneWorld’s oranges. He drew a deep breath, wanting to remember the complicated smells. Wanting to roll around in them. Books, oranges, and fresh, free air.

Boots echoed across the massive warehouse as the Feard searched.

Ely paused beside a back wall. “We got ropes here. Looks like she was cut loose.” He eyed the ground. “The only footprints belong to a male. No female has feet that big. He must have carried her off.”

Rummaging in boxes scattered throughout the cavernous space, Remi shouted, “Looks like Praevus boogied out in a hurry. Nothing good here.”

Dom stroked his chin. “Ike, get the fuck over here.”

The Scourge pushed off the ground and raced across the warehouse. “This is where she was. I swear. You owe me.”

“Yeah. Yeah. She was here. We’ll pay what we owe. But part of the deal is you report whatever you hear. If I find out you’re holding back, I’ll put you through a meat grinder. Literally. First pain, followed by non-existence at the end of my blade.”

The Feard most often extincted because of an order from the OC. But not always. Faced with a situation, they could use their own judgment.

“I-I-I’d never ch-ch-cheat you, Dominion.”

“Get lost. We’ll be checking on you.”

As Ike hustled out the door, disappearing into the alley, the assassins confabbed. Ohngel was on his fucking honeymoon. But to Dom, the Feard would always be short a member. He stared into space, missing his friend Gareth and their adventures. They’d raced across the sky to see who was faster. Challenged each other to sword fights. Shared willing Immortals in bed. Tossed back drinks at a bar, enjoying the camaraderie of friendship.

Ely interrupted Dom’s memory-lane trip. “We could use Ohngel. This is shaping up to be more than a three-man job.”

“Damn straight,” muttered Remi. “Their honeymoon is over. We need him. The search for Praevus and this human female requires a full crew to tear Angor apart.”

Dom hesitated because Ohngel had insisted that he and Indigo have some alone time, free from business in Angor or Vast. Screw their me time. This was serious. “I’ll call him in, and we’ll divvy up the tasks. Ely, you hit the hot spots, the clubs, the hangouts, the joints frequented by Scourges. Remi, you see what you can learn at the Ordeals. I’ll be on the ground, scouring streets and alleys. We’ll assign Ohngel to flyovers, stopping any place that looks promising.”

After Ely and Remi headed off on their assignments, Dom rubbed his sightless eye. It ached today. Pain in his barometer was never a good sign, a signal something bad was about to happen.

He strolled out of the alley. Stretching his midnight wings, he shot into the air, his flight taking him into the passageway that led out of Angor. From there, he traveled to Scath, the realm of a species called Aeternals, where Ohngel’s mate resided.

First stop, Indigo’s office. Dom could have pathed his brother-in-arms, but he was certain Ohngel would cut him off. This situation required a face-to-face and, perhaps, muscled persuasion.

Not long ago their fire-winged assassin brother had saved Scath’s Aeternals and Earth’s humans. But the OneCreator had a non-interference rule. When Ohngel violated it, he was put in stasis. Eventually he’d been forgiven and offered his old job back.

In a surprise move, the OC reinstated Ohngel and allowed Indigo to travel with him in OneWorld. For some reason, the boss was soft on the mouthy witch from Scath. And the couple fascinated Dom. He couldn’t understand the bond they had formed. Anyway, they were still on what the witch called their honeymoon. His assassin brethren said it meant he didn’t have to chase asshole Immortals and could fuck the days and nights away.

Time’s up.

Ohngel needed to clock in on the job, but Indigo’s office was empty. Since Dom knew the witch spent hours at the River Am, reading the water for images of possible futures or hints of trouble, he winged his way there.

Dom spotted the couple swimming in a calm pool, dammed by boulders and fallen trees. Hovering above them, he watched their riveting play for a while before he floated to the bank of the river.

Laughing, Ohngel dunked his mate under the water. Then his head snapped around. “What the hell, Dom? Indy, stay put.” The fire-winged assassin strode up the incline, naked, threatening, muttering something like, “Fucking intruders. Fucking up my fucking good time.”

Once Ohngel was out of the river, he fashioned clothes with a flick of his wrist, faster than re-donning his own, which were in a pile near a tree.

The dark-haired witch glared at Dom as she stood neck-deep in the pool. “Roark, make me something to wear.” She still called him Roark, even though she knew his real name. It had been his alias when she’d first met him.

“They’ll be wet,” he growled, his pissed-off gaze fixed on Dom.

“Then how about a swimsuit?” she shouted.

When she exited the water, Indigo was dressed in a vintage bathing outfit, navy blue, a blousy top, a bow at the neckline, and pantaloons below her knees. She glanced down and rolled her eyes. “Really?”

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