Wiping her face with an open palm, she drove the rest of the way to Raphael's with a steely focus on the here and now. The ghosts kept whispering in her ear but she refused to listen. If she didn't listen, they wouldn't be able to touch her, wouldn't be able to drag her back into the nightmare.
She was pulling up in front of the house when her cell phone rang. It had been in her pocket and was drenched, but seemed to function fine when she turned off the engine and flipped it open. She recognized the incoming number. "Ransom?"
"Who else?" Jazz in the background, the singer's voice smoky and low. "I've been hearing things, Ellie."
"I can't tell-" she began.
"No," he interrupted. "I'm hearing things I think you need to know."
"Go on." Ransom had contacts the rest of them didn't, having grown up on the streets. Most people who got out lost their street cred. He hadn't-being a hunter was considered an even better position in the hierarchy of the streets than being a gangbanger.
"There's been a lot of vamp and angel activity over the past few days. They're everywhere."
"Okay." That wasn't news. Raphael had his people looking for signs of Uram or his victims.
"Whispers of girls disappearing."
"Uh-huh."
"Should I be warning the pros?" His voice was tight.
She knew some of those streetwalkers and high-end call girls were his friends. "Let me think." She considered everything she'd picked up about the victims. "I think, for once, they're safe."
"You sure?"
"Yeah. The targets all looked . . . innocent."
"Virgins?"
Elena realized she hadn't thought to check. A mistake she'd rectify as soon as possible. "Yeah, probably. But still, it wouldn't hurt to tell your friends to look out for each other."
"Thanks." He blew out a breath. "That's not why I called, though. Word is, there's a hit out on you."
She froze. "What?"
"Yeah, it gets better." Anger vibrated through the wires. "Apparently an archangel wants you dead. What the hell did you do to him?"
Her forehead furrowed. "Not him. Her."
"Ah. I wouldn't worry about it, then." Pure snark. "According to the gossip, your head's wanted on a silver platter-literally, by the way-"
"Gee, thanks for clearing that up."
"-but the hunt's not authorized to begin yet."
Michaela, the bitch, was playing mind games. "Appreciate the warning."
"So what are you going to do? Get the hell out of Dodge or kill an archangel?"
"I do love your confidence in me."
A snort. "Hell, no. I just know I'm in your last will and testament."
"I'm too valuable alive right now."
"And when the job is done?"
The car door was pulled open from the outside, wings filling her vision. "Then I'll reconsider my options. Talk to you later." She closed the phone before he could say anything else, and looked up into eyes so blue they shouldn't have been possible. "Michaela really wants me dead."