Darkness Hunts

Chapter 9

My fingers twitched with the need to feel Amaya in my hands, but my sword was, for once, quiet. Whatever was happening here, she didn’t sense an immediate threat.

I forced a smile, then walked toward the woman and held out a hand. “I’m sorry to intrude like this, but I’m looking for Vonda Belmore. I don’t suppose you know where she is, do you?”

The woman didn’t shake my hand—she didn’t even look at it. Nor did she immediately respond to my question. She just stared at me in an oddly dead way.

I let my hand drop to my side and stopped just beyond her reach. But it was still close enough that I could smell the wound on her forehead, and it was rank. It was almost as if her flesh had rotted away rather than burned.

My gaze swept the rest of her. She was statuesque, with fine, almost regal features and silvery hair that was cut short but well styled. She was also a vampire, which, when combined with the wound on her forehead, meant this was more than likely Vonda. But I wasn’t about to admit that knowledge. Better to play the game, whatever the hell the game was.

“I do know Vonda,” the woman said eventually. Her voice was whisper f="Phe/foy and, like her gaze, lacked any sort of life or warmth. “She faces you.”

Vonda might be facing me, but she wasn’t the one forming the words.

He was doing that.

He was in her mind, controlling her. Maybe even seeing what she saw.

It was certainly one way for a blind man to check out his adversary.

Azriel, are you able to get into her thoughts? Can you catch anything about the man we hunt?

I am only able to read the minds of those who are in the same vicinity. She currently has no thoughts of her own, and while he may control her, he does so from a distance.

I guess I should have known it wouldn’t be that easy. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, and barely resisted the urge to run from this freak show. Or at least run from the freak behind it. The only reason I didn’t was because it wouldn’t help—this was a game and, for whatever reason, it was one he wanted to play with me.

“And why are you here rather than in your own house, Vonda?”

“I knew you were clever. I just wanted to see how observant you were.”

“So I’ve passed the test?”

“Yes and no.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning you found one, but you did not find the other.”

I stared at him—her—for a moment, my stomach churning as I remembered that Vonda didn’t live alone. “You’ve taken her sister?”

“You weren’t paying attention, huntress. Did I not say victims, plural, last time we spoke?”

Like I was supposed to understand the nuances of every word spoken by a crackpot? “Taking two women at once doesn’t follow your usual pattern, and I suspect you’re a man who likes his patterns and rules.”

“Indeed, I do. But I have never come across twins such as these before.”

“What is that supposed to mean? And what have any of these women done to you?”

“They are not what they pretend to be. They are Kudlak, and therefore must be destroyed. That is my destiny, huntress. It is my task by birthright.”

It was his birthright to hunt harmless women? Sanity and he really weren’t on speaking terms. “I have no idea what a Kudlak is, but I know these women are vampires—and harmless ones at that. You’re mistaken—”

“No, I am not. Nor am I about to argue.” The words were snapped, the tone annoyed. “The sister has an hour left.”

And with that, the woman collapsed.

I lunged forward and caught her just before she hit the floor. The mark on her forehead was even more putrid this close, and her breathing was shallow and uneven, even for a vampire.

< on herem">“Rhoan, we need an ambulance.” I lowered her gently to the floor and looked up at Azriel as he materialized beside me. “Is she going to die?”

“Yes,” he said. “He may not have drained her blood, but he has drained her spirit.”

I closed my eyes and fought the useless rise of anger. Vonda’s sister was still out there, and getting angry wouldn’t find her any faster. “Is there anything left of her mind now that he has released her? Or has he drained that, too?”

“She is mentally present.”

“Can you read her?”

He hesitated. “No. Her thoughts are blocked. I would damage her mind further if I broke past them.”

She was dying anyway, so it wouldn’t really have mattered, but I guessed it came down to reaper rules. He couldn’t do anything that might harm an innocent.

Which meant I had to do this the hard way. I pinched her pale cheek as hard as I could. It was a mean thing to do to someone who was dying, but I really had no other choice. She might just hold the key to finding not only her sister but the crackpot behind these murders. “Vonda, wake up.”

She murmured something that sounded decidedly unladylike, and made a weak movement with her hand, as if trying to swat me away.

I pinched harder. “Vonda, your sister is in danger. We need your help to find her.”

Her eyes fluttered briefly open, but there was little life or understanding in the green of her gaze. “Dani?” she murmured. “No.”

I grabbed her shoulders and shook her. “Yes, Dani. Where is she? Where did she go?”

“Club.” It was so softly said it was little more than a sigh of air.

“What club, Vonda?” I looked around as Rhoan came in. He glanced from me to the woman, and motioned me to continue. “You need to tell us or Dani dies.”

Distress ran briefly across her pale features. She made a couple of attempts to speak before finally saying, “Underground.”

Underground? Oh fuck, I thought. Surely she couldn’t mean those clubs—the ones that catered to vampires who were addicted to feeding from blood whores, humans whose whole life revolved around the ecstasy of a vampire’s bite. The council had no intention of ever allowing the rest of the world to know about those clubs; the only reason I did was because one of the clubs was haunted by those who’d been killed there, and their anguish had summoned a Rakshasa—the same Rakshasa that had given me the scar down my spine before I’d killed it.

God, surely fate couldn’t be so cruel as to send me into one of those places again, could it?

“What club, Vonda?”

Her mouth opened and closed again, and though I leaned closer, I barely caught her reply. It sounded like “the Crimson Dive,” but I wasn’t completely sure.

“Where was she planning to go after the club, Vonda?’s b k, Vt s

Her eyes rolled back into her head and a small sigh escaped her lips. She was leaving us. I shook her again. “Damn it, Vonda! Who was your sister planning to meet? Where did she plan to go after the club?”

“Hartwell,” she murmured. “Zane . . .”

Her words faded away and her head rolled back. Azriel touched my shoulder, but it was a warning I didn’t need. I released her and closed my eyes. She was gone, and I really didn’t want to see the reaper who’d come for her. Didn’t want to see her soul—and any real chance we had of saving her sister—rise and walk away.

Rhoan squatted beside me and pressed two fingers against her neck. “Damn.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Hartwell and Zane aren’t much to go on, either.”

“It’s better than what we had, and at least we now know the reason behind the forehead branding.” His gaze met mine grimly. “I’ve called in a cleanup team. We’ll sort out the father and son, and go through the sister’s room—maybe we’ll find something to clarify what she meant.”

“We only have an hour.” I rose and rubbed my arms. “Do you know what a Kudlak is?”

“No, but I will soon enough.” He eyed me thoughtfully. “Did you catch the name of the club?”

If he was asking that, it meant the mike on the earpieces hadn’t been strong enough to catch Vonda’s whispered reply, and for that I was suddenly grateful. “I think it was Red something or other, but I couldn’t guarantee it.”

“We’ll run a scan and see if we can find anything that matches.” He thrust a hand through his short hair. “Can you hang around, just in case we find something?”

“I’ll wait outside, where it’s warmer.” I paused. “Does Dani look like her sister?”

He nodded. “They’re identical twins.”

Which might explain our killer’s statement that he’d never come across two such as these before. Identical twins who were also blood-whore-addicted vampires surely had to be a rarity.

Rhoan walked out. I pressed the left ear stud to deactivate the earrings, then headed back across the road to watch the sudden influx of Directorate people from a safe distance.

“Why did you not tell him about the club?” Azriel asked as he sat down beside me.

“Because of Hunter. I’m not going to risk giving him information that may well get him killed.”

“But it may help solve the case.”

“It may. Which is why I’ll ring Hunter myself and ask.” It wasn’t something I really wanted to do, as I was rather enjoying the brief respite from her overbearing presence in my life.

I dragged out my vid-phone, said, “Hunter,” and watched the psychedelic patterns swirl across the screen as the phone made the connection.

“Risa,” she drawled. “What a lovely surprise.”

ectidth="2em">“Considering you’ve got Cazadors following me around reporting every little twitch, I seriously doubt that it’s either a surprise or lovely.”

Amusement gleamed in her cold green eyes. “They do not report every little twitch—although Markel is more circumspect than some.”

Which wasn’t something I wanted to hear. With some trepidation, I asked, “Just how detailed do the others get?”

She gave me that smile—the one that reminded me of a shark about to consume its prey. My stomach sank. Obviously, they followed where Markel did not—and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it, which was infuriating.

“Then you already know why I’m ringing now.”

“Yes.” She paused. “You were wise not to mention your knowledge of the clubs. Rhoan is an asset the Directorate would not like to lose.”

I bet she was an asset the Directorate wouldn’t like to lose, either, but I sure as hell hoped that one day, it would. In fact, the sooner the better.

“Is there a club called the Crimson Dive?”

“It’s Dove, not Dive.” She paused. “I’ve rung the manager, and both Vonda and Dani Belmore are members. As were the other victims.”

And the bitch had known about the connection well before I’d gotten involved—she was just more intent on protecting the secrecy of the fucking club than in protecting its patrons.

“Have any of them killed while they were feeding?” If they had, it might explain our killer’s insistence that they needed to be destroyed. It was a view I could almost agree with—although his time and attention would have been better spent chasing down those responsible for the clubs’ existence than attacking the addicted who attended them—whether by choice or not.

“No.” Hunter hesitated again. “The Dove is not like Dark Earth. It caters to those who are more lightly addicted.”

I snorted softly. Addiction was addiction, and unless something was done about it, it would always get worse. But the vampire council seemed content to cater to the situation rather than cure it.

Damn it, these women weren’t like the men and women I’d seen in Dark Earth. They weren’t so far down the abyss of addiction that they couldn’t function normally. Hell, they held down jobs, something the deeply addicted could rarely manage. They could have been helped, if they’d wanted it, and if that help had been available. So why these woman rather than those who drank from and sometimes killed blood whores in clubs like Dark Earth?

“The killer called them Kudlak,” I said. “Is that another name for blood-whore-addicted vampires?”

“No. Kudlaks are something else entirely.” She turned around, giving me a brief glimpse of stark white walls and a view out over the bay through ceiling-to-floor windows. She wasn’t at her Directorate office. Maybe she was home—she was certainly old enough that even windows that large wouldn’t be much of a threat sun-wise. “Kudlaks originate from Croatia and some parts of Slovenia. They are a form of karead, it mi vampire who are, at their core, evil.”

“Define ‘form of vampire.’”

“Both the Croatians and the Slovenians believed them to be a form of energy vampire—someone who feeds off the emotions of others, and who does evil when alive, but who becomes an actual vampire at death.”

I frowned. “But you have to undergo a blood ceremony to become a vampire. You don’t just become one willy-nilly.”

She smiled, though it did little to lift the darkness in her eyes. “You and I know that, but truths often get lost in the beliefs and myths handed down through time.”

“So why would this man believe his victims are Kudlaks rather than plain old vampires? And why the hell would he think it’s his birthright to kill them?”

“If he believes his victims are Kudlak, it is possible he also believes himself to be Kresnik.”

Meaning we weren’t dealing with an ordinary, everyday nutter after all, but something far worse. I rubbed my eyes wearily. “What’s a Kresnik?”

“Ah, that’s where this gets interesting. According to the myths, a person born with a caul—an embryonic membrane still attached to the head—is destined to become either a Kudlak or a Kresnik. It is said a person born with a red or dark caul becomes a Kudlak, but a person born with a white or clear caul becomes a Kresnik.”

“And it’s the destiny of Kresniks to go after Kudlaks?”

“Yes.”

“So what else do these myths say about them? Do they have any special powers?”

“I have never come across either personally, but it is believed Kresniks can leave their bodies to attack their foe, and are also capable of magic.”

Which explained our killer’s ability to harm someone both astrally and physically, as well as the hint of magic Azriel had sensed when we’d found Dorothy’s body.

“Are Kresniks also vampires?”

She hesitated. “Some legends suggest they are enhanced by the goodwill of the community, and that in itself suggests energy vampirism rather than blood.”

Which meant it was more than possible he could move around in daylight, since energy vampires often didn’t have the same restrictions as blood vamps. The thought had trepidation shivering through me. “What kills them?”

“Kudlaks are killed by impaling them with a hawthorn stake, then slashing their tendons below the knees and letting them bleed out.” Amusement touched her lips. “Of course, such actions would kill anyone, human or not.”

Except, I suspected, her. Not because she was immune to such things, but because no one who knew her—or knew of her—would ever be stupid enough to attempt such a thing. “Is Dani Belmore still at the Dove?”

It wasn’t likely, given that the man behind this madness had said she’d only an hour left to live, but it didn’t hurt to ask.

“No. She hasn’t been there for several days, apparently.”

So why had Vonda believed that she was? Or was that simply a belief our killer had implanted? “Did you get the club’s management to check the security tapes, on the off chance she met someone near the club?”

Hunter raised an eyebrow. “She would not be foolish enough to meet anyone outside the club.”

I snorted softly. “She has an addiction, and she’d just come away from feeding it. I seriously doubt she would have been too worried about what she should and shouldn’t be doing as she left the place.”

Amusement touched her lips again. “You would have made a good guardian, Risa, if you’d chosen such a path.”

It sure as hell would have been an easier path than working for her. “Does that mean she did meet someone?”

“She caught a cab in Glass Street.” I didn’t ask how they knew this, because I knew she wouldn’t tell me. She continued. “I will send you the details of the company and driver.”

Hunter paused and gave me that face. The one that said I’d better do what I was told. And yet her face didn’t even twitch—it was more a darkness that crept into her eyes. “Do not inform Rhoan where you got the information.”

Or you’ll both die.

The unspoken words seemed to hang in the air, despite the fact that the conversation was over a phone, not in person. But then, this wasn’t the first time I’d heard that warning or seen that look.

“I know the drill,” I said. “What about Dani herself? Could the manager tell me anything about her?”

“He did not know her personally—he had to look up her membership form to remember who she was. I will send you the relevant details.”

“Thanks.”

“Remember to check in when you uncover any new information regarding the keys.” And with that, she hung up.

I sighed in relief, then glanced at my phone as it indicated an incoming message. Hunter was fast, I’ll give her that. But then, she had been warned about the situation by Markel and had undoubtedly been waiting for my call.

There wasn’t really much information about Dani—nothing more than her address and banking details, which suggested that at the Dove, members paid for the privilege of easing their addiction. But maybe they did that at all the clubs—if they were a moneymaking venture, it would certainly explain the council’s reluctance to address the problem.

The taxi driver who’d picked Dani up was Charlie Tan, and the depot was in Tullamarine, which was only about ten minutes away.

“You wish to go there now?” Azriel asked.

“No, I don’t,” I all but snapped. “But it’s not like I have much of a choice, is it?”

He raised his eyebrows at me. I sighed again, and waved a hand. “Sorry. The anger isn’t aimed at you.”

“This time.”

I half smiled. “Yeah. No guarantee about the next time, though.”

Amusement touched his lips, and warmed places deep inside me. “Something would have to be very wrong for you not to be angry with me at least a couple of times a day.”

“Oh, come on, it’s not that bad—”

“Oh, but it is.” The smile still tugged at his lips, and took away some of the sting of the words. “But then, you are not alone in feeling frustrated by the situation we find ourselves in, Risa.”

I guess that was true. He just seemed to control it better than me. I double-pressed the ear stud and said, “Rhoan, I need to disappear for a few minutes. Give me a call if you find anything.”

“I won’t ask where you’re going, because I have a suspicion you won’t tell me,” he replied. “But if you find anything and don’t tell me, there will be hell to pay.”

“I’m just going to check in with a hacker friend. He might be able to help find either this club or what the hell Hartwell is.”

Rhoan grunted. Whether he believed me or not was anyone’s guess. I turned off the earpiece again and glanced at Azriel. “Let’s go.”

He wrapped his arms around my waist and zapped us through the gray fields. We reappeared in the middle of an industrial estate. The place across the road was some sort of auction building, and the parking lot to one side of it was filled with cars of all makes and models. I spun around, spotted the cab company, and headed for the office. Azriel fell in step beside me, then opened the door and ushered me inside. The receptionist gave us a warm smile, but I couldn’t help noticing it was mostly aimed at the man who stood beside me. Which niggled, but also made me wonder what the hell she was seeing. If the intensity of her gaze was any indication, there might well have been nakedness.

No. There was amusement in Azriel’s mental tone. Although that can be arranged if you so wish.

If you get naked for her before you get naked for me, I’ll be more than a little annoyed.

I have already been naked with you.

Not nearly enough, I’m afraid.

“How can I help you?” the receptionist said.

“I need to speak to Charlie Tan,” I said, a touch more tartly than I probably should have. “We’re trying to trace the location of a woman who was recently a passenger in his cab.”

She frowned. “I’m afraid I can’t—”

Azriel made a small movement with his hand. “It is vital we find her.”

“Oh,” she said. “Okay. Hang on a sec.”

She spun away and picked up the phone. I glanced at Azriel. And just what happened there?

I made her believe we were police.

I didn’t think you reapers were supposed to intervene in the thoughts of others.

We aren’t. But I am Mijai, and we do whatever must be done.

Something ominous crawled down my spine at the emphasis he placed on “whatever.” I shivered but refrained from saying anything as the woman turned back toward us.

“If you just go through the door to your left, Francis will be able to help you.”

Azriel gave her a high-wattage smile. “We appreciate your help.”

She blinked and all but stammered, “My pleasure.”

He turned and walked toward the indicated door. I followed, torn between amusement and annoyance. You handled that a little too well. Done it before, have you?

As I said, I do what must be done. In this case, it’s getting the information we need quickly so we can solve this and move back to our real quest.

Then why not just pluck the information from her mind? Why flirt? And why flirt with a damn stranger and not with me?

Because she does not know where the cabdriver is, nor can she connect us to him.

He opened the door and ushered me inside again, one hand pressed against my back. The light contact chased away the ominous sense of trepidation that still lingered, but did little to ease the niggling annoyance.

A woman—Francis, I gathered—glanced up from a com-screen as we entered, and gave us a pleasant smile. And once again, it was mostly aimed at Azriel.

“Sue says you need to speak to Charlie urgently.” Her gaze swept him, and interest sparked deep in her brown eyes.

I felt a sudden urge to grind my teeth. The only reason I didn’t was because it wouldn’t have done any good.

“If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, yes,” Azriel replied, his voice warm enough to melt ice.

If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, I grouched silently. Good grief.

Azriel glanced at me, amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes. And you were accusing me of jealousy?

I crossed my arms and regarded him steadily. It’s not.

In the same way as mine is not?

This is different.

I do not believe it is.

You’d believe the sky was green if it suited you.

That is an incongruous statement.

But true.

His smile increased, but he returned his attention to Francis as she pressed several buttons, then swished a finger across the screen. The face of a man appeared. He was bald and chubby, with red cheeks and merry blue eyes.

“What can I do for you, officer?”

I opened my mouth to reply, but Azriel beat me to it. Perhaps he thought politeness wasn’t in my current repertoire given my sudden bout of grouchiness. And to be honest, he might have been right.

“We believe you picked up a woman in Gable Street a day or so ago. Can you remember where you took her?”

He frowned. “Listen, I get a lot of passengers—”

“This woman was regal-looking, with silver hair, a thin face, and a hooked nose,” I interrupted. “She might have appeared high on something.”

He grunted. “Yeah, I remember that one. She smelled funny—like old paper. I dropped her at some abandoned industrial building in Brooklyn. I did ask her if she had the right address, being a woman and alone and all, because it wasn’t a nice-looking place.” He looked suddenly worried. “Has something happened to her?”

“No,” Azriel said, in a reassuring voice. “We simply need to talk to her. Can you give us the address where you left her?”

“It was Cawley Road. I don’t know the actual number, but the place had a stack of old shipping containers on the premises. You can’t miss it.”

“Thank you very much for your assistance, Mr. Tan.”

“My pleasure,” he said, and then the screen went blank.

Francis swiveled in her chair and gave Azriel a somewhat sultry look. “Anything else I can do for you, officer?”

I rolled my eyes and left him to it. I gave the woman at the desk a nod of thanks, but she was paying as little attention to me as the woman in the control room had. Which I could totally understand, but it still rankled.

I waited outside in the cool air, and Azriel appeared a few minutes later.

“So,” I muttered, “you all set for later tonight?”

He raised his eyebrows. “I do not understand what you mean.”

My ass he didn’t. That was obvious from the mischievous twinkle in his eyes. But I bit back my annoyance and my reply, and glanced at my watch. Even though he’d zapped us here, we’d still lost valuable time inside, and the clock was ticking down. Time to stop being so idiotic and start concentrating on what really mattered—saving a woman’s life. A reaper who was becoming more and more of a frustration could be dealt with later.

“We need to get moving.”

He nodded and stepped close, but this time he didn’t immediately wrap his arms around me and dissolve us into mist. Instead, he caught my chin between his fingertips and said softly, “You are an idiot, Risa Jones.”

Then he kissed me.

It was fierce yet gentle, everything and yet nothing. It was energy and spirit and desire, and it made me soar even as it made me hunger for things I knew could never be.

And it was insanely, i ks in as it nfuriatingly brief.

His lips left mine and he wrapped his arms around my waist, but I barely even saw the gray fields as we zipped through them. My head was still dizzy from the power and the promise of the kiss. From the knowledge that it would never go any further unless he wanted it to.

What I wanted apparently didn’t matter.

We reappeared in the middle of a road. He released me and stepped back, his expression restored to its usual distant self. Like we hadn’t just kissed. Like the kiss meant nothing.

And yet I knew, deep down, that was far from the truth.

“Damn it, Azriel—”

“There is magic here,” he cut in, obviously not wanting to discuss his actions. He indicated the high wire fence to our right. Behind it stood dozens of old shipping containers in various states of repair. “Over there.”

Fine. Play your games. But don’t expect me to be happy or to play along.

Once again, he gave no indication that he’d heard the somewhat surly thought. I released a frustrated breath and reminded myself yet again that there was a life at stake here. “Can you sense anything behind it?”

“No life, if that’s what you mean.” His gaze met mine. “But no death, either.”

I frowned. “If you can’t sense any life, maybe she simply met our killer here and they went elsewhere.”

“No. There is something here. It is similar in feel to the magic near Dorothy.”

I swung around and studied the battered, abandoned containers. I couldn’t see anything that jumped up and screamed magic, but then, I wasn’t as sensitive to the stuff as he was.

“Where, exactly?”

He pointed down the road, to the right. “It appears to be located near the containers behind that warehouse.”

The warehouse in question was big, old, and had been in disuse for some time if the state of the place was anything to go by. The remnants of the sign over the main entrance said HARTWELL SHIPPING in what must once have been bold red lettering.

“This is definitely the place.”

“It would seem so.”

We hurried toward the entrance. My shoes clicked noisily on the road surface and the sound seemed to echo across the odd hush that held the immediate area. It was almost as if the old buildings around us were holding their collective breath, waiting for something dramatic to happen. Trepidation continued to crawl across my skin, and I slowed.

“What?” Azriel said immediately.

“I don’t know.”

The nearby cyclone fence was topped with razor wire, which seemed a little extreme given the state of the entire area. It wasn’t like there was a lot here beyond rusting remnants, but maybe they were simply left over from the days when this was a t k th’hriving business park. There didn’t seem to be any other security measures present, either. And yet something about the place still felt off.

I heard a slight tick-tick, and walked closer to the fence. A piece of razor wire had been cut and swayed regularly in time to the breeze, and every time it touched the fence, it ticked. The damn fence was electrified. I walked down to the main gate. It was similarly protected.

“The gate doesn’t provide much of a barrier for the likes of us,” Azriel commented.

He touched my arm and drew me lightly toward him again, but this time I resisted. “Thanks, but I’ll get in there under my own steam.”

“I do not mind—”

“Yeah, but I do.” I wrapped my fingers around my purse and phone—they wouldn’t change unless there was skin-on-skin contact. “Especially if you’re going to keep using those moments to steal kisses.”

“That was wrong of me—”

“Yes, it was,” I cut in, then closed my eyes and called to the Aedh within. I was still pushing my limits strength-wise, and this was really the last thing I needed to do. But I wasn’t about to keep relying on Azriel to zap us around. Enough was enough. If he wanted distance, he was damn well going to get it.

The heat and energy that was my Aedh half surged with the defiant thought, numbing pain and dulling sensation as it invaded every muscle, every cell, breaking them down and tearing them apart, until my flesh no longer existed and I became one with the air. Until I held no substance, no form, and could not be seen or heard or felt by anyone or anything who wasn’t reaper or Aedh.

I swept in under the gate and headed toward the back of the warehouse building. Even though I had no flesh in Aedh form, I felt heavy and movement was slow. It was just as well I didn’t have far to go, because I wasn’t going to be able to hold this form for long.

I’d barely reached the rear of the warehouse when my energy gave out and I hit the ground with an undignified splat. I stayed there for several minutes, my head booming and my breath a harsh rasp that burned my throat. Azriel, wise person that he was, didn’t say a word, although he was standing so close that the heat of him washed over me, chasing the worst of the tremors away.

I took a deep, somewhat shuddery breath, then released my grip on my purse and phone and climbed slowly to my feet. The world did a couple of mad turns, then settled. I swept the sweaty strands of hair from my forehead and, with some determination, walked on.

Azriel followed closely. I had a suspicion he was ready to catch me should I fall—a distinct possibility considering how shaky my legs still felt.

My gaze swept the old building as we neared the rear entrance. It was covered in grime, and there were cracked and broken windows along its entire length, but the roof—or the bits I’d seen of it—seemed in far better condition than what I’d expected. Once again I couldn’t escape the notion that someone was using this place—and that there would be more than just electrified fencing waiting if we dared go inside.

Something I really didn’t want to do.

“There is no need,” Azriel commented. “The magic comes not from within the building, but from a container over to our left. This way.”

I followed him through the maze of rusted and rotting containers, although my strides were a whole lot less elegant and assured. In fact, I was amazed I was even still walking, given how crappy I felt.

“And it still feels like the magic you sensed when we found Dorothy?”

“Yes.”

“But he’s not there?” I knew he wasn’t, because otherwise Azriel would have mentioned it, but I still had to ask. After all, we were dealing with a man who was apparently capable not only of leaving his body to attack his foe, but also of transporting spells and god only knows what other type of magic. And Azriel could be stopped by magic, though I doubted our killer would have that sort of knowledge, let alone have ever come across someone like our Mijai before now.

“No, he is not. The magic resonates from the blue container up ahead.” He came to a halt. “It prevents me from reading what lies within it.”

“So much for me thinking our killer didn’t have the necessary knowledge to stop you.” I stopped beside him. It was tempting to lean against him and let the warmth and strength of him chase away the worst of the aches—if only for a moment—but I resisted. Give him what he wants, I reminded myself fiercely. Even if it was the last thing in this world that I wanted.

“It is not designed specifically against me. It appears more tuned to stopping anyone sensing what lies inside.”

I frowned. “Does it just prevent psychic sensing?”

“No, it’s olfactory as well.” He glanced at me, his expression blank but his blue eyes angry. “I fear someone lies dead inside, even if I cannot immediately feel it.”

Meaning that once again our killer had not kept his word. But then, had I really expected him to?

I flexed my fingers, then stepped forward and grabbed the container’s latch. It was heavy, rusted, and it took a lot of strength to wrench it open. When I did, it opened with such force that the door slammed against the side of the next container. The sound echoed across the hushed stillness, a deeply resonant noise that was almost a death knell.

That’s what waited in the container.

And it wasn’t fresh.

I tried breathing through my mouth, but it didn’t really help. The smell of rotting flesh had permeated the air, and it wrapped around me like a shroud, clogging every breath and clinging to my skin.

I ignored the churning in my gut and forced my feet forward. Dani lay on wooden boards that spanned two forty-four-gallon drums. Her arms hung limply from her sides, her fingertips stained with the dried remnants of blood. The tendons in her calves had been cut, the wounds no longer clean but flyblown. Bile rose up my throat. I swallowed heavily and stopped beside her. She’d also been staked, but, like Dorothy, had apparently died without pain, without fear. The expression forever frozen on her face was peaceful. Accepting.

My gaze rose higher. She also bore the K-shaped burn on her forehead, but unlike the other wounds on her body, there was no fly infestation. Maybe even they found the mark distasteful.

“Goddamn it!” I all but exploded. “Why is he doing this? Why tell us we can save her when he’s already killed her?”

“Did not Rhoan say he taunted the Directorate? Perhaps this is just more of the same.”

“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.

“Fuck it, Risa, I told you to contact me when you found anything. This is a Directorate investigation—”

“And one that you dragged me into,” I snapped back, “so don’t get all snotty when I chase a lead that may or may not have gone anywhere.”

“You have definitely been hanging around my sister for far too long,” he muttered, and thrust a hand through his hair. “What have you found?”

“We followed the Hartwell name, and it led us to an abandoned warehouse in Brooklyn. Dani’s here.”

“Dead, if your expression is any indication.”

“Very. There’s maggots, so she’s k, sif your been here a while.”

He swore softly but vehemently. “Damn it, this bastard’s death will be neither quick nor pleasant when I get my hands on him.”

“Good.” I hesitated. “You might want to investigate the warehouse, too. I don’t think it’s connected in any way to these murders, but someone has electrified the fencing, so there’s obviously something here worth protecting.”

“What, you haven’t investigated? Color me shocked.”

I grinned. “See, there is some common sense left in me after all.”

“Apparently so.” He glanced away briefly as someone murmured something behind him, then said, “I’ll get another cleanup team out there. There’s no need for you to hang around.”

“Good, because I need to go home and shower.”

“Ring me if you happen to chase down either the club or the man Vonda mentioned,” he said. “Don’t go off investigating them by yourself. This bastard is too dangerous.”

I knew that. Not only had I seen the rotting evidence of it in the container behind me, but I’d confronted him on the astral fields. It was not an experience I wanted to repeat in real life.

“I won’t—don’t worry.”

“The more you say that, the more I will,” he muttered, and hung up.

I shoved the phone back into my pocket, then raised my face to the sky, letting the sun bathe the chill from my flesh. After a few minutes, I said, “This is not getting me home.”

“No.”

Azriel’s voice held a slight edge, and I glanced at him. “What?”

“I am just wondering if you’re going to be sensible enough to let me take you there or not.”

“Given your somewhat dour expression, I’d say you’ve already guessed that particular answer.”

He sighed. “There is no need to tax your strength when I can very easily—”

“Azriel, I can’t keep doing this. I can’t touch you, or be kissed by you, without wanting more. I understand the dangers you’ve mentioned—I do—but if you want resistance, then that has to mean complete distance.”

He studied me for a moment, then gave a quick, sharp nod. “Perhaps you are right. It is shortsighted of me to expect such control from you when I am not able to find it in myself.”

And with that, he disappeared again. And this time I couldn’t even feel him in the immediate vicinity. He had obviously gone back to watching from a distance.

Not what I’d wanted at all.

I made my way back through the containers to the main gate. In Aedh form, I slipped under the fence, but re-formed in human shape almost immediately. The pounding in my head was far worse the second time around, and I stumbled to the nature strip and lost everything I’d eaten that day.

Then I called a cab and went home.

“Hey, stranger,” Tao said from the kitchen as I slammed the front door shut. “Sounds like you need coffee.”

“I need coffee, sleep, and a shower, and not necessarily in that order.” I headed for my bedroom, stripping my clothes off as I went. “Did the electricians and gas people come to the café today?”

“Yeah. Everything has been checked and cleared. I pulled a few strings to get the council inspector in tomorrow, so we should be able to reopen on Friday.”

“Fantastic.”

I kicked off my shoes as I entered my room, then noticed a pale blue envelope sitting on my bed. It didn’t appear to be a bill of any sort, and while the address was typed, there was no return address on either the front or the back of the envelope. I raised it to my nose and sniffed, but couldn’t smell anything more than crisp paper, ink, and the faintest wisp of exotic wood and oriental spices—Tao’s scent. Whoever had handled this envelope before him had done so very carefully.

I half wondered if this was yet another letter from my father and flipped it over, sliding a nail under the rim to open it.

The sheet inside was the same blue color as the envelope. Obviously, whoever sent it liked matching stationery.

I tugged the sheet out and unfolded it. And discovered it wasn’t a letter, but rather a warning.

I know where you live, it said.

And I know what protects you.