"But it's pointless! What the hell does he gain by any of this?"
Azriel shrugged. "It is often hard to discern the motives of those who derive pleasure from the kill."
I glanced sharply at him. "You think he does this for fun?"
"No, I think he truly believes that this"—he indicated Dani—"is his calling. But it would seem he gains immense satisfaction from being the puppet master. After all, it is not everyone who can give the Directorate—and now you—so many clues and yet successfully avoid their grasp."
"If he thinks they'll let that continue unchecked, he doesn't know the Directorate very well."
"And therein might be your answer."
I frowned. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, cut off his pleasure."
I had a sudden vision of nuts being hacked off, though that obviously wasn't what Azriel meant.
"No," he agreed, amusement briefly tugging at his lips. "I mean, perhaps it would be better not to chase."
"But that would mean letting people die."
"They die anyway. You were never meant to save any of these women."
"I guess." I let my gaze sweep Dani one more time, then spun on my heel and walked out.
Once I was free of the stinking confines of the container, I stopped and sucked in large breaths of the crisp, clean air. But it didn't do a whole lot. The smell of death still clung to my skin and clothes.
With some reluctance, I tugged my vid-phone out of my pocket and rang Uncle Rhoan. "I found her," I said the minute he answered.