Soduchi’s expression tightened. “How do you know?”
“Does it matter?”
Blaspheme could practically smell the testosterone clashing in the air between the two males as Soduchi growled. “Who are you?”
“He’s a friend.” Blas jumped into the fray before things deteriorated beyond something she could control. “Well, his, ah, friend, is a patient of mine.”
“Your friend could use a lesson in respect.”
Revenant laughed, flashing fangs. Which, for some reason, made her think of the vampire porn at her mother’s house. Not what she needed to be thinking of right now. Still, she wondered what Revenant’s fangs would feel like buried in her throat.
Stop it.
“What’s your name again?” Revenant asked. “So Douchey? Well, So Douchey, the day I respect a weremutt is the day my dick turns into a hot dog. So why don’t you run off and find yourself a nice Milk-Bone.”
Soduchi’s eyes bugged out of his head. “You unimportant fuck —”
One minute, Revenant and Soduchi were there in front of her, and the next, they were several yards down the hall, with Revenant pinning the doctor against the wall with his forearm across Soduchi’s throat. The writing on the gray walls, Haven spell inscriptions, began to glow and pulse as the threat of violence rose up from Revenant.
She couldn’t hear what he was saying to the other male, but whatever it was, the doctor went as white as a banshee on the night of the new moon.
A moment later, Revenant was next to her, and Soduchi was scampering away in the opposite direction. If he’d had a tail, it would have been tucked between his legs.
She stared after the surgeon in disbelief. “What did you say to him?”
Revenant snorted. “Boo.”
“I don’t believe you. But I don’t have time to play referee.” She rubbed her eyes, wondering when she’d see her bed again. “You said the object Soduchi found inside my mo – ah, my patient, is an angelic tracking device?”
He nodded. “They’re implanted into the skin.”
Gods, this wasn’t good. “Do they burrow until they hit an organ or barrier?”
“No.” He rolled the tiny device between his fingers. “They’re designed to remain just under the top layer of skin, and they’re only active while inside a body, whether it’s alive or dead.”
She frowned. “How would one get into the inferior vena cava?” At his blank look, she elaborated. “A vein that brings blood to the heart.”
“Ah.” He shrugged. “It might have been implanted inside an open wound. It could bore its way inside from there.” He looked over at the OR door, and even though Blas was pretty sure he couldn’t see through it, she started to sweat. “Who is this patient, anyway? Angels don’t just go around tagging people, and only certain angels possess the ability.”
“Certain angels?” She swallowed sickly. “Like?”
“Interrogators, Eradicators, Enforcers… a few more, probably.” His voice went thick with contempt, while she was pretty sure hers was going to go shrill with anxiety. Why would someone track her mother… unless they were trying to get to Blaspheme? If that had been the goal, it had worked beautifully. “I’m not exactly up on angelic operations. Seems they neglected to invite me to the meetings.”
Had he expected to be invited to meetings? He seemed to take the subject a little too personally.
“Well,” she said, thankful that the shrill thing didn’t happen, “I’ll have to ask my patient when she wakes up.” She held out her hand. “Can I have the tracker, please?”
A sly grin spread over his face, and she groaned. “Go to dinner with me.”
“I’m not going to be blackmailed into a date, especially not over this. I won’t compromise patient care. Ever.” She made a come-on-and-give-it-to-me gesture with her fingers. “So hand it over. Eidolon will want to study it.”
His gaze swept over her, fleeting and almost cursory, and yet she felt as though she’d been examined for hours and stripped naked. “A False Angel with principles. How… rare.”
She was starting to hate the way he could find the chinks in her armor. And she really hated how she seemed to always be playing defense around him. If this were one of her mother’s favorite sports, the Sheoul Fallen Angels would always have the ball, would always be ahead in points, and the Underworld General Vyrm would be struggling to merely get on the scoreboard.
“So you fit the fallen angel mold perfectly?” she shot back. Field goal for the Underworld General Vyrm.