Naturally. Amaya is always with you.
I didn't mean Amaya. While I had no doubt Amaya could handle hellhounds, I wasn't about to walk into a possible confrontation with them without some form of backup. In this case, that was holy water.
I do not think this a wise course of action.
It isn't like I have many other choices. I wasn't going in alone, and if I called Rhoan, he'd cut me out of the investigation completely. Which meant I went either with Jak or with Lucian—and Azriel sure as hell wouldn't want me going anywhere with him. But your disapproval has been duly noted.
And ignored, he said, mental tones flat. As you wish.
He disappeared again—an action that was really starting to piss me off.
Jak cleared his throat. "Why do I have this feeling that there's a whole conversation going on that I know nothing about?"
"Because there is." I waved a hand at his beer. "Finish that. We have to go see a witch about some holy water."
* * *
Ilianna looked up from the magazine she was reading when I walked through the door of our home, but she jumped to her feet when she saw who was behind me, her expression suddenly furious.
Shit, I thought, as she muttered something under her breath and flicked a hand. I swore again and spun around—just in time to see Jak hit the floor face-first, then go slithering back toward the door. Which was shut. He grunted, then began to curse as his body plastered itself to the metal.
"Ilianna!" I spun back round to face her. "Let him go!"
"No," she spat back, her green eyes practically dripping with fury. "I did warn him never to darken our door again or there'd be consequences."
"I invited him here. Let him go."
"Why should I, after all the heartache he caused you? Damn it, Ris, he walked away unharmed and unregretful."