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They stared especially at the most visible among the newcomers, who stood nearest to the burned out coals of the campfire where they’d all been sitting for the past few hours.

Nick saw the person standing in front, and felt his gut twist.

Gaos-damn it.

He’d waited too long.

All of them had waited to long.

They should have left while they could.

Even as he thought it, Lara St. Maarten stepped fully into the area of the campfire, right as the human soldiers around her ignited semi-organic torches. They lit up the dark forest clearing and the side of the mountain, and gave Nick an odd, disorienting feeling of déjà vu at how the artificial lights turned all of the nearby faces a sickly yellowish-green.

Nick noted the insignias on the uniforms standing nearest to Lara.

He didn’t move, though. He just stood there, his hands clenched at his sides.

His eyes returned to St. Maarten’s narrow face. She still looked tired, and he couldn’t help but notice the remnants of the bruises on her face from whatever his doppelgänger had done to her in the process of dragging her up this same mountain a few hours earlier.

Other than that, she looked completely different.

Those same bruises were way too healed, given the short amount of time. She’d clearly used some accelerated organic healing paste or process to get them looking like that, probably combined with expensive and skillfully-applied make-up.

Her hair was back to being coiffed and perfect in its severe bob. Her eyes stared at Nick with an icy steel he hadn’t seen in them in a long time.

She knew exactly what they’d been about to do.

She knew, and she’d come to stop it.

Nick grew even more furious when it hit him he should have expected this.

How had he not known she would be back as soon as she’d collected herself?

“I’m sorry,” Lara said. Her voice sounded anything but. “I can’t allow you to do this, Detective Midnight. In particular, I can’t allow you to leave here with property that doesn’t belong to you.”

Nick felt his fangs extend before she’d finished speaking.

CHAPTER3

THE AUTHORITIES

“Is this absolutely fucking necessary?!”Nick snarled. He raised his voice above the din in the group around him, his vision tinted dark red. “Goddamn it, Lara! Answer me! What the fuck are you doing right now? What is this supposed to accomplish?”

She didn’t answer him.

He fought back his aggression as well as he could.

He bit it back forcibly, for Wynter as much as himself.

He knew the Archangel C.E.O. might kill him.

He knew it without ever really asking himself the question.

On some level, he’d always known that about her.

It was difficult to just sit there, and not do anything, though. Screams came from voices he knew, loud enough to make him grimace and wish he could close his ears. Those screams held so much emotion, his gut hurt. He felt sick, his skin prickled with electricity, his muscles and jaw tense, but he knew better than to act on his aggression.

He didn’t need to look.