Darkfire Kiss by Deborah Cooke Page A

profit.
    He had no doubt of what she’d do or try to do with those photographs.
    He also had no doubt he would stop her. He didn’t much care how he did so, or what it took to change her mind.
    Rafferty knew he could have solved his dilemma by beguiling the woman before approaching the guards, but he hadn’t been able to bring himself to do it. Why not? He couldn’t explain his resistance and hadn’t wanted to explore it, not when time was of the essence. Now, away from the distraction of her perfume and her eyes, he had to wonder at his own choice.
    Why did she have this power to confuse him?
    How?
    Rafferty beguiled the two guards, easily convincing them they hadn’t witnessed anything unusual at all. In moments, he was striding away from the monument, feeling their gazes track his movements. They remained puzzled by his presence, but that was fine. He resented the lost time and the trouble of needing to track the woman.
    His senses were more keen in dragon form, but he didn’t dare shift until he was well out of the sight of the guards. No point in undoing what he had achieved.
    Balthasar, Rafferty was certain, had returned to Magnus’s lair. Or maybe he’d retrieved the car first. Rafferty wouldn’t have wanted to be in that Slayer ’s scales when Magnus heard he had failed on all accounts.
    He still had to find the woman first.
    Although it felt as if it took ages to walk into the side streets adjacent to the National Mall, it couldn’t have been more than a minute. Impatience chafed at Rafferty, another unfamiliar mood. There was no sign of the woman, but the scent of her perfume drew Rafferty onward.
    It occurred to him that she wasn’t a very experienced thief to leave such a clear sign of her presence. That scent would linger for hours, and it was sufficiently distinctive that it would identify her to anyone with a sharp nose.
    Never mind a Slayer .
    Was it possible that she wasn’t what she seemed?
    Or was that wishful thinking on his part? He didn’t like the idea that he had helped a felon escape the repercussions of her crime. Should he have left her to Magnus? Rafferty couldn’t imagine that any human deserved that fate.
    What was the book Magnus said she’d stolen? Had she stolen it? If so, why had it been worth the risk? Maybe she didn’t understand the danger in such a choice.
    She’d know now, after Balthasar had tried to kill her.
    How many other Slayers were in alliance with Magnus these days?
    Rafferty quickened his pace.
    The woman had known the security codes—did Magnus know her? Maybe they’d been allies but had had a disagreement. If so, she and Rafferty were in the same company—he’d once been friends with Magnus, although those days were long behind them. He knew what it was to be tricked by Magnus. Did he and the woman have something in common?
    He wouldn’t think of the price of learning Magnus’s true nature.
    Instead, he thought about the woman. Just who was she, anyway?
    The scent of her perfume never wavered and never disappeared. She couldn’t have taken public transit or hailed a cab, because it remained consistent. She must have just kept walking. This choice intrigued Rafferty—and told him that her destination couldn’t be far.
    And it wasn’t. He turned onto a cul-de-sac, about a fifteen-minute walk from the National Mall. The scent led into the curved street.
    The street was a dead end, curling back on itself. The outer curve was lined with town houses, built in a Georgian style. Rafferty guessed, however, that their exteriors were stucco, not cut stone. There was no resonance of rock from the buildings.
    Stucco on Styrofoam, then. Why humans persisted in this kind of artifice was a mystery to Rafferty. It was cheaper but not worth the price. He disliked the lack of authenticity.
    Maybe he was just getting old.
    In this moment, though, he felt vigorous and vital. It was because she was close, and Rafferty knew it. He’d fought and he’d won. He’d