"Cannot,” he said, eventually, "because I do not know who or what is responsible. But we will endeavor to find out.”
I paused. "We?”
"The Mijai.”
"The what?”
"Mijai,” he repeated. "We are the dark angels, the soldiers.”
"Hence the sword.” And the winged tattoo. "But why would reapers need soldiers? Especially since reapers don't take unwilling souls?”
"Because, as I said, there are other things that do. The Mijai are responsible for stopping such thefts.”
And for a whole lot more, I was betting. "Meaning someone screwed up big time when it came to that little girl.” I paused, taking another sip of Coke. "So is that why you were following me? Was I a suspect?”
"How could I suspect you when I didn't even know the soul had been stolen?”
"Then why were you following me?”
He hesitated and leaned back in his chair. If the sword across his back was giving him any discomfort, he certainly wasn't showing it. In fact, it almost seemed an extension of his flesh—a metallic limb, of sorts.
"Where did you get that necklace?” he countered.
I blinked and automatically knew he wasn't talking about Ilianna's charm, but rather the gold filigree droplet I wore around my neck. It was shaped like two wings, and very much represented my heritage.
"It was my father's.” Apparently, he'd given it to my mom the night of my conception, and Mom had passed it on to me when I was old enough to start asking questions.
"Indeed,” he said, and I had the distinct feeling it was information he already knew. "When?”