Page 56 of Bitter Spirits

The cold voice didn’t bother her. It was hers, after all—a reminder of who she was, what she was.

With a flex of will, she caught her magic in an unrelenting grip and wrapped it close, embracing the void that swam in the midst of her power. As her magic deepened, so did her awareness of his—the oily darkness slithering around, consumed by endless hunger. She could almost see it, like some tentacled beast flailing around her. She discovered that a couple of those venomous tendrils had found purchase. Instead of panicking, she was mildly curious.

Interesting.

She wrapped her power around one, and the air shifted, carrying a lethal chill matched by her voice. “What I wanted was to get away from you, and I did.”

Avarice bloomed in Angel’s face, but keen on the hunt, he didn’t back down. “And yet here you are.”

“Where you brought me. So who is really the one unable to let it go?”

With a covetous gleam, he pulled back. His power, on the other hand, kept testing her, trying to find more cracks to exploit. Not interested in playing cat and mouse, she sent a shock of magic through the tendril still caught in her grasp. Power burned through the unholy tie, and Angel’s face tightened. The magical tendril recoiled, retreating to the edge of hungry magic looming just beyond her reach. The tendril waited, watching for another chance.

Angel got to his feet and walked away, his steps muffled by the large patterned rug covering the hardwood floor. He stopped in front of a smooth stone fireplace topped by a mantel of thick wood. He picked up an abstract statue and turned it over and over in his hands. “Why are you nosing around my club, Isa?”

She wasn’t fooled by his apparent retreat, but she didn’t waste her chance either. She carefully swung her legs around until she was no longer reclining. When her feet hit the floor, she felt steadier, as if that small movement grounded her. “I told you, it was a spur-of-the-moment decision. I didn’t know he was bringing me to the Den.”

As her gaze swept over what appeared to be a staged living room decorated with bland artwork, something brushed against her awareness. She glanced around. Through the opening to her right was a kitchen and, next to that, a narrow entry table holding a tall vase of dried flowers and a notepad. On the other side was another opening, this one leading to a hall. She could make out a partially open bedroom door and, through it, the gray corner of a bed. But to get to any of that—including the front door, which was right there, next to the blind-covered window—would require getting past Angel. Those blinds were angled to let in light, but she could make out a front yard with a thick-trunked tree and just beyond it, across the narrow street, a square cinder-block home.

An older neighborhood, then. “Where are we?”

“Somewhere we can talk without being interrupted.” Angel set the statue back in its spot and braced his arm along the mantel as he watched her.

“And if I want to leave?” There was nothing close by to use as a weapon but that damn statue.

“Worried your little pet won’t be able to find you?”

Oh, she had no doubt Locke was already on the hunt—probably Des, too—but admitting that to Angel would just make him more insufferable. Instead, she met his mocking question with icy contempt. “Ask whatever you want to ask, but make it quick. I have a business to run.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “I asked you a question.”

“You’ve asked a couple. Which one do you want me to answer?” She was poking a dangerous snake, but fuck that noise. She wouldn’t let him sink his hooks into her again.

Once more, that unknown presence brushed against her awareness.

Angel studied her for a long moment then moved to one of the nearby chairs. He sat and rested his arms on the chair’s edges as he set his ankle on his knee. “Who sent you after me?”

Isa felt some satisfaction in his barely concealed paranoia, but she didn’t have time to enjoy it. She needed to get away from him. Cautiously, she let her magic ebb outward. It lapped around something hovering near the fireplace just behind Angel.

When it came back to her, it carried a dark, driving compulsion aimed at the man watching her with unsettling intensity. Make him pay. He has to pay.

The gathering storm of vindictive need called to the magic she harbored, and Isa quashed her spark of anticipation before it could fully form. She crossed her legs and laced her fingers over her knee as she let her magic pool around the spirit, offering it a chance to feed from her power. It was a dangerous ploy, but if it worked, maybe she’d be rid of Angel once and for all. The spirit leapt at the unexpected gift, drawing the offering deep.

She kept her attention on Angel and not the vengeful wraith coalescing behind him as she answered his question. “No one sent me after you.”

“Bullshit.” A thin line of anger rode under his voice, and his magic whipped out, found the tiny fissures she hadn’t been able to seal closed, and burrowed in.

Pain rippled along her nerve endings, but she embraced it, used it to fuel the cold rage simmering deep in her heart. Isa met his unrelenting hunger with merciless fury, and neither of them was able to gain ground. She touched the charm at her neck, and her magic deepened, forcing the invading power back a step while the world around her shifted.

“You’re entitled to your opinion,” she said.

Her small movement drew Angel’s gaze, and his lip curled. An invisible band snapped around her throat, tightening in a blink. He wiggled a finger at her. “Uh, uh, uh. This is just a simple conversation. It doesn’t need to get messy.”

Air was trapped in her chest, but she held still, refusing to show even the smallest hint of fear. Not that she could feel any. Logically, she knew it was there, but it was distant, as if it belonged to someone else. Instead, an affronted rage dominated, with her magic not so willing to play prey. It reached into the inky, emotionless void that was Angel and hooked its claws in his spirit.

“Release me.” The demand wasn’t vocal but echoed on the spiritual plane. She flexed her magical claws, her threat very real. “Or I will shred you to nothing.”

On the mortal plane, Angel’s lips peeled back in a grimace, his face paling, his fingers digging into the chair’s arms. “You’ll kill us both.”