“Will do.” The line went dead.

Hunt sighed. Viktoria said, “You should have known better, friend.”

Hunt ran his hands through his hair. “Yeah.”

Beside him, Isaiah swigged from his beer. “You could let Naomi handle her.”

“I have a feeling that would result in them unleashing Hel together, and I’d still need to go end their fun.”

Vik and Isaiah chuckled, and Hunt dropped a silver mark on the bar. Viktoria held up a hand in protest, but Hunt ignored it. They might all be slaves, but he could pay for his own damn drink. “I’ll see you two later.”

Isaiah raised his beer in salute, and Viktoria gave him a knowing smile before Hunt elbowed his way through the packed bar. Justinian, playing pool in the back, lifted a hand in farewell. Hunt had never asked why all of them preferred the tight quarters of the street-level bar to one of the rooftop lounges most angels frequented. He supposed he wouldn’t get the chance to learn why tonight.

Hunt wasn’t surprised that Bryce had bailed. Frankly, the only thing that surprised him was that she’d waited this long.

He shouldered through the leaded glass door and out onto the muggy street beyond. Patrons drank at reclaimed oak barrels, and a raucous group of some sort of shifter pack—perhaps wolves or one of the big cats—puffed away on cigarettes.

Hunt scowled at the reek that chased him into the sky, then frowned again at the clouds rolling in from the west, the heavy scent of rain already on the wind. Fantastic.

Naomi sent over her coordinates in Five Roses, and a five-minute flight had Hunt arriving at one of the night gardens, just beginning to awaken with the fading light. Naomi’s black wings were a stain against the creeping darkness as she hovered in place above a fountain filled with moon lilies, the bioluminescent flowers already open and glowing pale blue.

“That way,” Naomi said, the harsh planes of her face gilded by the soft light from the plants.

Hunt nodded to the angel. “Thanks.”

“Good luck.” The words were enough to set him on edge, and Hunt didn’t bother saying goodbye before soaring down the path. Star oaks lined it, their leaves glittering in a living canopy overhead. The gentle illumination danced on Bryce’s hair as she ambled down the stone path, night-blooming flowers opening around her. Jasmine lay heavy in the twilight air, sweet and beckoning.

“You couldn’t give me an hour of peace?”

Bryce didn’t flinch as he dropped into step beside her. “I wanted some fresh air.” She admired an unfurling fern, its fronds lit from within to illuminate every vein.

“Were you going somewhere in particular?”

“Just—out.”

“Ah.”

“I’m waiting for you to start yelling.” She continued past beds of night crocuses, their purple petals shimmering amid the vibrant moss. The garden seemed to awaken for her, welcome her.