Darkness Splintered

Chapter 10

The creature came out of nowhere, a skinny mass of filthy matted hair and gleaming canines. I raised Amaya instinctively, realized what was actually attacking us, and flipped my sword around midswing. The hilt smashed across the dog’s head and sent him flying. He hit the left wall and slithered down to the floor. He didn’t move.

I took a deep, somewhat quivery breath and cautiously walked over. The dog’s eyes were closed, and there was a slight trickle of blood coming from a wound just above its right eye. Thankfully he was still breathing. Beside the fact I didn’t want any more blood on my hands than necessary, the last thing I wanted was to kill a dog that was only doing what it had been trained to do. Although given the condition the poor mutt was in, maybe killing him would have been a kindness. He was literally skin, bone, and matted brown hair. Obviously, he wasn’t fed all that often. Maybe that was what the shifter had come here to do. Or maybe they didn’t bother, and simply got a new guard dog whenever the old one died. Lauren seemed the type to do something like that – although maybe that was just my hatred of her showing.

I turned, my gaze skimming the room. There didn’t seem to be anything in this room beyond shadows and the shelving.

Where’s the magic, Amaya?

Back.

Which I couldn’t see. I walked on carefully, gaze constantly moving and my sword held at the ready. Nothing else jumped out at us. Eventually, we neared the rear wall. It looked solid and I had no sense of magic of any kind.

Is, Amaya said. Left.

I raised a hand and skimmed it along the wall. After several seconds, energy skittered across my fingertips. Its feel was dark, and oddly dirty. I resisted the urge to jerk my hand away from its touch and kept on walking, trying to discover the full extent. The patch of magic was about six feet high and four feet wide. If it wasn’t a door, I’d eat my hat. If I’d been wearing a hat, that is.

The last time we’d discovered a concealed door had been in the pit Jak and I had fallen into when we’d first raided this warehouse. Maybe this entrance led into the same tunnels as that one had, or maybe it led to somewhere else entirely. The only way I was going to find the answer was to discover another way to open it.

Can’t press through, Amaya said. Magic not same.

Meaning that, unlike the hidden doorway in the pit, this wall was actually solid rather than merely looking it.

I tried anyway, but succeeded in doing little more than breaking my nails. I swore softly, and turned around. “Rozelle, are you able to come down here?”

“Sure. Just give me a moment.”

I raised Amaya, letting her flames chase back the shadows again and, after a few seconds, Rozelle appeared.

She stopped beside me and frowned. “Another nasty piece of work,” she muttered after a moment. “I’m afraid this one is coded. Unless you have the proper key, it’ll kill you.”

“No way you can get past it?”

“Not without a lot of time and effort.” Her gaze skimmed the wall. “And I couldn’t create a doorway myself without knowing what was on the other side.”

“That I can’t say, because I don’t know.” I paused. “The shifter who was outside – he was coming here. Is it possible he could have a key of some kind?”

“I could check.”

“Then let’s check.” There was nothing else we could do. And if the shifter didn’t have a key, then we’d hit another wall. Literally, in this case.

Once we were back outside, Rozelle knelt beside the shifter and ran a hand above his body, her expression intent. After a moment, she sighed and sat back on her heels. “There is some form of magic within him, but it does not feel the same as the magic that guards that door.”

Meaning we had hit another wall. Fabulous.

I sighed. “Thanks for the help, Rozelle.”

She nodded. “I could stay here and work on that door. As I said, it’ll just take time —”

“No,” I said softly. “Thanks, but it’s far too dangerous for you to remain here unprotected.”

“I am able to protect myself —”

“I have no doubt of that under normal circumstances, but the person we chase is far from normal.” I hesitated, seeing her doubt, and added, “She can take any form she wishes; tell me, if you saw Kiandra walking toward you, would you not be inclined to trust her?”

“I would sense a glamour —”

“This wouldn’t be a glamour. It’s not that type of magic. We’re chasing a shifter capable of full body transformation. You wouldn’t know it wasn’t the real Kiandra until it was far too late.”

“Oh.” She swallowed. “Then perhaps it is wise not to be alone. However, that lock can be broken. If you need it done, we can arrange protection —”

“It’s not worth the risk right now, Rozelle.”

Her expression was doubtful. “Are you sure?”

I lightly squeezed her arm. “For the moment, yeah.”

“What about the shield around the building?”

I frowned. “I thought you said it was beyond your capabilities?”

“It is, but that does not mean it cannot be broken.”

“We don’t need it broken. We just need it altered enough to enable Azriel to get inside.”

“That is certainly an easier option than breaking it. All we would need to do is unpick the spell enough to enable us to weave a variation through it.”

“And would the shield’s creator be aware of your handiwork?”

She hesitated. “If we broke it, yes. But, as with the doorway I wove into the stone circle within this building, the creator would only sense it if he or she happened to be looking for it.”

I glanced at Azriel. “It’s worth a shot. If the gate we’re searching for is down there, at least you could get in.”

He nodded, and looked at Rozelle. “If I take you back to the Brindle, would you be able to make the necessary arrangements for this?”

She nodded. “We could be back here in an hour.”

“That would be brilliant,” I said.

She smiled. “Trust me, it is my pleasure. It is a rare opportunity to practice what I have been taught.”

Azriel glanced at me. “Will you stay here, or return home?”

I hesitated, then said, “Home.”

“I shall meet you back there, then.”

With that, he took Rozelle’s hand, then the two of them disappeared. I grabbed the shifter’s wallet, then became Aedh and returned home. The apartment was dark and silent. Tao still wasn’t here. I bit back the instinctive urge to ring and check if he was safe, knowing there was little I could do if he wasn’t, and walked into my bedroom. I’d left the door open and the acrid smell of smoke was stronger this time. My nose twitched and I briefly wondered if we’d ever be able to rid the place of it. Or if, indeed, we’d even bother rebuilding it. Especially if the worst happened with Tao…

I slumped wearily onto my bed and rubbed my forehead, half wishing for coffee but not having the energy to actually walk down to McDonald’s to grab one.

“Which is why I did,” Azriel said, as he reappeared. He handed me not only a coffee, but a double Quarter Pounder.

I raised my eyebrows. “And just where did you get the money for these?”

“One does not need money when one can simply arrange for them to be given.”

“You stole them?”

“If they are gifted, they are hardly stolen.”

I grinned. “So if I feel the sudden need for diamonds, you could arrange for them to be ‘gifted’?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Diamonds are hardly necessary for your health.”

“You obviously have no understanding of women and diamonds.”

Amusement creased the corners of his bright eyes. “I think we can take that as a given. Eat.”

I did. Once I’d finished the burger, I took a sip of the coffee and said, “So what do we do now?”

“Until the Raziq or your father comes through with some way of finding either of our sorcerers, I do not know.” He paused. “I would suggest sleeping, but I already know the answer to that.”

“Yeah.” I grimaced. “It just feels wrong to sleep when the clock is ticking for Mirri. But I could go see Uncle Quinn.”

Surprise flitted across Azriel’s expression. “Why?”

“Because, as you noted earlier, if there’s one person in this world of mine who might know how to stop these bastards in their tracks, it would be Uncle Quinn.”

And not just the Raziq, but my father and, hell, maybe even Hunter. They had to be stopped, all of them. And while I knew I was going to have hell’s chance of stopping Quinn from subsequently joining any battle, it was a risk I might have to take.

Because I was beginning to think it could be the only way anyone was going to get out of this… the thought froze as my phone rang. The tone told me it was Uncle Rhoan, and I fought back an odd mix of trepidation and grief. Because I knew he’d be ringing about Jak. And that he’d be madder than hell.

Only trouble was, the pain of Jak’s death was still so raw I might end up saying something I’d ultimately regret.

“Then ignore it,” Azriel said, ever practical.

“If I do, he’s more than likely to order me arrested.”

He frowned. “Why would he do that?”

“Because I’m betting he wants answers about Jak’s murder and why Hunter would want him dead.”

And how could I explain any of that without stepping into territory that could ultimately lead him into danger? Because Hunter would kill him if she thought it necessary to both keep her secrets and me on the leash.

I took a deep, somewhat quivery breath, then reached for the phone and hit the vid-screen’s Answer button. Rhoan appeared. To say his expression was thunderous was something of an understatement.

“What the fuck is going on, Risa?” he all but exploded. “Why the hell would Madeline Hunter want Jak Talbott dead?”

I was tempted to tell him that was a question he should ask the lady herself, but I didn’t actually want him anywhere near the bitch. Not when she was so intent on teaching me a lesson. I licked my lips and said, “I don’t know —”

“Don’t give me that shit.” A dangerous light glittered in his gray eyes. “You know exactly why she ordered the hit, and I’m guessing you knew it even before you put a sword through the back of the assassin. Tell me what the fuck is going on, or I’m going to haul your ass into the Directorate and make the investigation official.”

Part of me wanted to snarl some smart remark right back at him; the other, more sensible part just wanted to run. The last thing I wanted was a confrontation with Uncle Rhoan, but I guess it was always bound to happen. As I kept fucking noting, it wasn’t like fate had shown any propensity to give me a break.

Which meant I had only one choice.

Honesty.

I swore internally and scrubbed my free hand across my eyes. “Do that,” I said, my voice holding an edge I couldn’t quite prevent, “and you might well kill everyone we both care about.”

His expression didn’t change. If anything, it got more dangerous. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Look, we can’t do this over the phone. Meet me at the café.” I hesitated, then added, “Come alone, and don’t tell anyone else you’re doing it. Not even Aunt Riley.”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes. Don’t fuck me around on this, Risa. I’m warning you.”

“I won’t.”

He hung up and I threw the phone back into my bag for a second time.

What of your astral watchers? Azriel said. If Markel is on duty, you will – most likely – be safe against the possibility of the meeting being reported to Hunter. It is doubtful that the others would be so recalcitrant, given what Markel has said about them. And Hunter’s reaction will be swift and deadly.

I know. Just as I knew that if I wanted to stop my astral watcher from reporting back, there was only one way I was going to do it.

But could I take that step?

Could I take the life of someone who was doing nothing more than their duty?

Soldiers throughout history have lost their lives doing nothing more than their duty, Azriel commented. It is the way of war, be it waged on the fields or here on Earth.

Yeah, but this isn’t a war.

That’s where you’re very wrong. This is a war, and perhaps the only one that has ever mattered. You’re not only fighting for the lives of your friends, but for the souls of mankind and the existence of two – very different – worlds.

I knew all that. But I’d been hoping – perhaps naively – to survive this whole mess with as little blood on my hands as possible. I sighed. Let’s just hope it’s Markel following me, then.

You would need to be sure before you meet your uncle.

Yes. But we have ten minutes. More than enough time to step onto the astral plane.

More than enough time to take a life.

Ignoring the horror that spun through me at the thought, I lay down on the bed and closed my eyes. Several seconds later, I stepped onto the astral plane.

It wasn’t Markel who watched me.

This vampire was short and thickset, with steel gray hair, swarthy features, and dead black eyes. His gaze, when it met mine, showed neither interest nor surprise, but rather the natural wariness of a warrior who has seen many battles.

My stomach began to churn. I didn’t want to do this. I didn’t want to take this vampire’s life and make him a ghost, with no future to look forward to. But I had no choice. I had to protect my friends and family – and Rhoan and Riley were the only family I had left. Hunter wasn’t going to take them from me. I wouldn’t let her.

Amaya, I said, imagining her shadowed in my hand. Get ready. And for god’s sake keep quiet.

Her weight appeared in my hand, but her blade was hidden, at one with the shadows that surrounded us.

If the vampire sensed the surge of energy that had briefly accompanied her shift in position, he showed no sign of it.

He raised his eyebrows. Why do you travel the fields?

I need to question a ghost.

What ghost? Jak? Is that what Rhoan Jenson asked you to do?

So he’d been close enough to hear at least some of our conversation – and it was enough to place Rhoan’s life on the line if it was passed on to Hunter. The churning in my gut got stronger, and I briefly wondered if it were possible to be physically ill on the astral plane.

What other ghost would he be interested in? I said, striding forward. Not directly toward him, but off to one side.

Even so, his stance shifted and his eyes narrowed. He sensed something was off, even if he wasn’t sure what. And does this sudden desire to question a ghost have anything to do with Jenson suspecting Madeline Hunter’s involvement in the death?

Fuck, fuck, fuck! He’d heard entirely too much and I really had no choice now. I didn’t know when Markel was back on watch duty, and I simply couldn’t risk this vampire reporting what he’d heard to Hunter.

My grip tightened on Amaya. Her excitement burned through my mind, thick and hungry. I was almost within killing distance. A few more steps, and his life would be mine. His soul Amaya’s. I wanted to run. Wanted to hide. Wanted to throw up so badly the bitter taste of bile stung the back of my throat.

I did none of those things. Just kept one foot moving in front of the other. I need to find out what Jak might have done to annoy Hunter.

He did nothing, and you know it. His gaze swept me. What is this truly about?

This is about saving lives. Nothing more, nothing less.

And with that, I stabbed Amaya into the heart of him. Her flames exploded in and around him, capturing him, consuming him. It was murder, nothing less, and it sickened me to the core.

I’m sorry, I whispered mentally. So, so sorry. But I have to protect the people I love.

He opened his mouth; no sound came out. But his eyes burned, damning me, and my cheeks were wet, though I had no idea if tears were even possible here. The plane around me grew dark and heavy, bearing down on me, as if the weight of this death was something I would carry for the rest of eternity.

And I would. I knew I would.

Amaya continued to devour the vampire, until there was nothing left of him. Not even ash.

I closed my eyes and imagined myself back in my body. The minute I was, I rolled onto my side and was violently, completely ill.

The bed dipped. Azriel didn’t say anything, didn’t do anything, just sat behind me and placed a hand on my shoulder. He didn’t need to do anything else. His presence and his touch was enough.

“I am sorry you were forced to do this.” His voice was filled with compassion and understanding. “I would have, if I could have.”

“I know.” I pushed upright and leaned back against him.

He wrapped his arms around my waist and brushed a kiss across the top of my head. “We’d better get moving. It would not be wise to be late.”

“I know,” I repeated. “Just let me clean up.”

“Ris, it can wait.”

“You’ve obviously never had the taste of vomit in your mouth.” I forced myself away from him, climbed off the bed, and headed for the bathroom. For several minutes I did nothing more than scrub my hands, trying to remove blood that didn’t actually exist. Blood that had drained into my soul and become a weight I’d never be free of. I swallowed heavily, then grabbed my toothbrush. After brushing my teeth and rinsing my mouth, I cleaned up the vomit, then tossed the towels down the rubbish chute rather than the laundry one. The last thing anyone would want was my vomit rolling around with their clothes. Although given the state of the living room and kitchen, washing clothes would be the last thing on anyone’s mind, even if they didn’t have bigger problems right now.

“Right,” I said, returning to Azriel’s side. He’d resumed his regular position near the window. “We’d better go meet Uncle Rhoan.”

He turned to face me. His expression was back to its usual noncommittal self but the compassion lingered in his eyes. “How do you wish to handle this?”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I could touch his memories, make him forget. Would that not make things easier?”

“In some ways yes, in other ways no.” I grimaced. “Uncle Rhoan is basically a psychic dead zone. He can’t be touched telepathically. It’s what has made him such a fantastic guardian.”

“While there are some minds I cannot read, Rhoan Jenson is not one of them. I could —”

“No,” I cut in. “It wouldn’t be fair, and it wouldn’t be right. Rhoan deserves more out of me than that.”

“He does. But it nevertheless is a dangerous path to tread given Hunter’s murderous bent.”

“I know.” I stepped into Azriel’s arms. “Let’s get this over with.”

We reappeared in the upstairs office area of the café. The room was dark and smelled faintly of tobacco. I frowned, then vaguely remembered Ilianna’s mentioning that she’d asked our accountant, Mike, to find someone to come in and do the business activity statement and salaries. I’d had no time lately and Margie, our new manager, had enough on her plate just keeping the café running smoothly.

That scent, however, suggested Mike himself had come in. It certainly wasn’t a scent I’d come across anywhere else but in his office. And while I would have thought doing accounts a little beneath him, he did seem to think that – because of his past relationship with Mom – he owed it to her to keep a “fatherly” eye on me. Maybe this was his way of doing so.

I switched on the lights and walked across to my desk. The accounts had been neatly stacked, the “done” pile much larger than the “to be processed,” and Mike’s bold scrawl noting receipt numbers was on several of them. I half smiled. In some ways he reminded me of Jak – he’d never entirely trusted computers, and tended to have paper backups of all legal documents.

I once again pushed down the grief that threatened to overwhelm me – grief that came from Jak’s death and the deeper, older loss of my mom – and pressed the vid-phone’s button for downstairs. Margie answered on the second ring.

“Hey, boss,” she said, a smile crinkling the corners of her dark eyes, “when did you sneak in?”

“Only a few minutes ago,” I replied. “I’ll be down later, but right now, I’m expecting a visit from my uncle —”

“If he’s the red-haired gentleman with the thunderous expression, I just sent him up.” She hesitated. “That’s not a problem, is it? He said he was expected.”

“No, it’s fine. Thanks.” I hung up.

Footsteps echoed – Rhoan, taking the stairs two at a time. I swallowed nervously, then squared my shoulders. I could do this. I had to, for everyone’s sake.

“Uncle Rhoan,” I said, the minute he appeared. There was no way in hell I was giving him the opportunity to vent all over me. Not without making him hear me out first. “Sit down, shut up, and listen.”

He blinked. Whatever welcome he’d been expecting, it hadn’t been that. “I’ll listen if it’s the damn truth, but there’s been too little of it coming out of your mouth of late.”

“Rhoan,” I said, more forcefully this time. “Not another word. Just sit. Please.”

He studied me for a moment, then spun a chair around so he could sit with his arms resting on the back. He waved a hand, motioning me to continue.

I briefly met Azriel’s gaze. Am I doing the right thing?

Yes. He has every intention of confronting Hunter if you do not answer his questions satisfactorily.

Something I had to prevent. I’d killed a Cazador to stop Hunter knowing of this meeting. I’d be damned if I’d let that death be wasted by Rhoan marching up to Hunter and demanding answers.

And that, I realized suddenly, was precisely what she wanted. What other explanation could there be for her failing to block the mind of her assassin?

“I’m waiting.” Rhoan’s voice was soft, but held an element of ice that chilled me to the core. This wasn’t the uncle I knew and loved. This was the guardian. Coiled and ready for action.

“Jak Talbott was killed to teach me a lesson,” I said bluntly. “But he’s just the first part. You’re intended to be the second.”

That last bit might be a guess, but the more I thought about it, the more likely it seemed. Hunter wasn’t a fool, and there was no way she’d have allowed that vampire to give us her name. And she’d have known Rhoan would have demanded to be placed on the investigation because of Jak’s links to me. This had to be part of her game plan. She wanted to bring me to heel, and if she had to kill one of the Directorate’s most valuable assets to do it, then she would. As Azriel had noted, Madeline Hunter had abandoned any pretense of humanity. At least when it came to me.

“Why would Madeline Hunter want to teach you a lesson?” Rhoan said, voice still far too cold.

“Because she wants the keys to hell, and she wants me to get them for her. Only I’m not doing it fast enough.”

And if I could get him to believe that was the extent of my relationship with her, then at least I could avoid the fallout that would inevitably follow if I had to tell him I actually worked for her.

He regarded me for a minute, his gray eyes glittering and expression flat. Still the guardian, not the uncle. “Why would she want the keys to hell?”

I snorted. “Because the woman is fucking insane, that’s why.”

“Risa —”

I sighed. “Look, she told me she – and the council – want to use hell as their own private jail.”

“And you believe that?”

“I believe it’s insane. I also believe the council has nothing to do with Hunter’s desire for the keys, and everything to do with Hunter’s desire for power and ultimate control.”

“A comment that suggests you’ve had a whole lot more to do with her than you’ve admitted so far.”

“Given the bitch wants the keys to hell, and I’m the only one who can find them,” I replied, “it would be fair enough to say she’s been in my face recently.”

“So why not come to me or Riley? We could have —”

“You could have gotten dead,” I cut in, voice flat. I met his gaze, and I had no doubt the anger and frustration so evident in his was just as fierce in mine. “Didn’t you hear what I said? Jak was just the start. You, and then Riley, and then maybe even Quinn would have all followed —”

Rhoan snorted. “Do you honestly think she would be fool enough to hurt Riley? In any way? She knows Quinn’s vengeance would be swift and deadly.”

“But she doesn’t have to physically touch Riley. Killing you would effectively do that for her.”

Rhoan accepted that with a grunt. “Even so —”

“Even so, you’re talking about a woman who has every intention of challenging a Mijai warrior, and who fully believes she will best him.”

Rhoan blinked and glanced at Azriel. “Seriously?”

“She is delusional, but not stupid,” he replied. “She would employ fair means and foul to assure victory.”

“Foul meaning what? She’s a vampire – a very old vampire, granted – but what fear would any vampire hold for the likes of you?”

“Mijai can be killed, and not just when in flesh form. Hunter knows that.”

“Besides,” I added, “she’s never been just a vampire. She’s far more. And she knows magic.”

Rhoan met my gaze again. “And Jack?”

Jack Parnell was senior vice president of the Directorate and the man in charge of the entire guardian division. He also happened to be Hunter’s brother. “I’m not involved with either the Directorate or Jack. How much he knows about Hunter and her plans, I have no idea.”

“He’s her half brother, so one would imagine —”

“Not necessarily,” Azriel commented. “While Jack has some tolerance for Hunter’s more excessive nature, he would not condone what she is currently attempting if he knew about it.”

Both Rhoan and I glanced at him. “When did you read him?” I asked.

Azriel’s gaze met mine. “When you were brought in on that Directorate case. I read the minds of all you meet. It is always better to know who and who isn’t a potential threat.”

“So how much does he know?”

“He knows what she is, and tolerates her excesses in that regard —”

“And what, exactly, is she?” Rhoan cut in.

“A Maenad,” I replied. “Or so we’ve been told. They’re supposedly the female followers of the Greek wine god Dionysus, and have the whole orgasmic-rites and tearing-people-apart deal going.”

“Huh.” His gaze came to me again. Though some of the anger had fled, it still glimmered in the background, ready to erupt at a moment’s notice. “So perhaps our next step would be to talk to Jack —”

“You can’t,” I said, alarmed. “She will kill you if she thinks you’ve discussed this with me in any way. I don’t want —”

“Give me a little more credit than that,” he cut in. “No one at the Directorate knows I contacted you. I made the call in a secure dead zone.”

Meaning secure from both electronic and psychic intrusion. “Even so —”

“No,” he said bluntly. “I’m paid to do my job, and do it I will. However, no one needs to know I’ve already talked to you. I will take this to Jack, and see what he says. What happens from there very much depends on his reaction.”

In more ways than one. “Be careful, that’s all I ask. And watch your damn back. Jack may hold to the middle ground when it comes to his sister, but she has plenty of support in the Directorate —”

He snorted. “I’ve been traversing Directorate politics for a while now. I know who to trust.”

“Yeah, but there’s a whole lot more on the line with this. You mustn’t tell anyone about my involvement with Hunter or mention the key hunt to Jack. Promise me you won’t.”

“You can’t deal with Hunter alone —”

“She isn’t alone,” Azriel cut in. “Hunter won’t ever touch her. I promise you that.”

She didn’t need to; all she had to do was hurt the people I loved. But both men were aware of that fact, and that wasn’t the point Azriel was making anyway.

Rhoan met Azriel’s gaze for several moments, then nodded once. An agreement reached, I suspected. Rhoan returned his gaze to me. “We’ll know soon enough where Jack stands. As for Hunter —” he hesitated. “I’ll hold my tongue for the moment. But if anything else goes wrong, if anyone else dies, then she has to be confronted. And, one way or another, stopped.”

“If you do have to confront her, don’t do so alone. Promise me that much.”

Just for a moment, the need to fight, to act, flared in his eyes. Rhoan, like Riley, had never been one to give up or back down, and it very obviously grated to do so now. And yet, he’d become second in command of the guardian division precisely because he didn’t often act without first thinking through the consequences.

“Only if you promise me the same.”

“I’m not alone. I have Azriel.”

“Yeah, but you’ve also said Hunter desires his death. So, just humor an old man, and promise you’ll contact me if you decide to confront the bitch. Otherwise, you and me will have a serious argument.”

I half smiled. “Promise.”

Whether I kept it was another matter entirely.

He studied me long enough that I began to suspect he’d caught that last thought, even though he wasn’t telepathic. Eventually, though, he rose and pushed the chair back toward the desk.

“I probably wouldn’t be able to confront Hunter alone anyway. Riley has a way of sensing things like that, and she’d insist on accompanying me.”

And if she went with Rhoan, then Quinn undoubtedly would, too. But even then I doubted it would be enough to take down the likes of Hunter.

But it was at least a concession, and I was lucky to get that much. I stepped forward and dropped a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you,” I said. “And I promise, I’ll be careful.”

“You’d better,” he all but growled, then left.

The tension that had been riding me since his phone call didn’t really ease much though. He was about to talk to Jack, and it was anyone’s guess where Jack fell in the scheme of things. Azriel might insist Jack wouldn’t condone what Hunter was doing, but she was his sister. In the end, blood might be stronger than loyalty to the Directorate.

“What now?” Azriel said.

I thrust a hand through my hair and sighed. “I’d better make an appearance downstairs, just to see how things have been going in our absence.”

He nodded. “Get yourself something to eat while you’re at it.”

I half smiled. “You’re nagging again.”

“Someone has to nag, otherwise you’d be skin and bone.” He caught my hand and tugged me into his embrace. “Besides, you carry my son. It is important you keep your strength up.”

Hurt flicked through me, but I forced a smile. “I’m not about to do anything that would endanger his life.”

“But you all too readily endanger your own, and one cannot be without the other.”

Tears prickled my eyes. Which was stupid, because his concern was perfectly natural. My health could adversely affect the health of our child, and there was no denying I really hadn’t been taking the best care of myself lately, what with the drinking and the lack of eating. And I did know that he cared for me. Trouble was, caring wasn’t enough. Not anymore.

I pulled out of his embrace and headed for the door, adding over my shoulder, “I won’t be long.”

“Risa —”

I didn’t stop, just said over my shoulder, “I’m fine, Azriel. Don’t worry about it.”

“If you were fine, you would not be close to tears. We need —”

“I’m pregnant, and pregnant women tend to get irrational,” I cut in. “You’ll probably have seen a whole flood of tears by the time this child is born.”

And with that, I retreated down the stairs. Not that running would do much good when the man I was running from could pop into existence anywhere he chose to. He didn’t, though. Maybe he knew that there was nothing he could say to ease the irrationality. Nothing but one simple four-letter word; a word that probably wasn’t even in reaper language.

I paused on the bottom step, searching the room for Margie. She was easy enough to find – she was built like an Amazon and towered over most of the patrons by a good six inches. She was clearing a table near the front door, so I made my way through the crowd toward her.

“Good to see we’re so busy,” I said, as I neared.

She glanced up, and her bright smile flashed. “Yeah. Been meaning to ask if I could get another waiter or two. It’s been insane these last couple of days.”

“Go ahead. I’m not sure when Ilianna or I are going to be back – things are hectic elsewhere at the moment.”

She nodded, obviously unfazed by our absence. Which was one of the reasons we’d singled her out to become our manager. That and the fact she’d passed her business course with honors. “Excellent. I’ll get the ad in the paper tomorrow. Oh, and the accountant left a note for you. It’s sitting under the till.”

“Thanks. Any other problems I need to know about?”

“Jacques wants to change the menu again, because he’s bored cooking the same things, but other than that, no.”

I smiled. Jacques was our sous-chef, although with what Tao was currently going through, Jacques had all but become our head chef. He was damn good, too – which is why we paid him so well and, subsequently, why he remained, even though he hated cooking burgers. Fancy burgers, but burgers all the same. “Tell him he can change one item to anything he desires, but don’t expect a rush of orders. Ninety percent of our clientele are werewolves, and they like their burgers.”

She smiled. “I told him that. He doesn’t care.”

I chuckled softly, and headed over to the till to grab the note. Need to talk to you ASAP about a couple of problems, Mike’s bold scrawl read. How about we do so over dinner?

I frowned at the note, trying to decipher the intent behind the invitation. Mike and I had always had an easygoing relationship – mainly because he’d been dating my mom, even if their relationship had never been confirmed or even acknowledged until after her death. I’d never been entirely sure why she’d wanted it kept secret, but had always figured it had something to do with the fact it would probably be considered unethical for Mike to be in a relationship with one of his clients.

What I didn’t understand was why in the hell he’d want to meet me for dinner, when up until now we’d only ever talked at his office or mine.

Or was this merely an extension of his need to keep an eye on me for my mother’s sake? It probably was, but it nevertheless made me uneasy.

Of course, just about everything was making me uneasy these days.

I glanced at my watch. I couldn’t ring him now – Mike had said in the past he was an early riser and liked getting into the office closer to eight rather than nine, but given that it was barely five a.m., I doubted even he’d be up. I folded the note and shoved it in my pocket as I headed into the kitchen. I’d deal with Mike later. Right now, I needed to grab something to eat, before my reaper started hassling me again. Besides, who knew when I’d get another chance – especially given Mirri had fewer than twenty-four hours left before the rope around her neck began to tighten.

Tao still hadn’t arrived home by the time we got back there, and the worry that sat like a weight in the back of my mind ratcheted up another notch. As much as I kept telling myself he’d be okay, that we’d get him through this, the longer he remained unfound – the longer the fire elemental remained in control of his body – the harder it would be for us to pull Tao’s spirit back. That’s presuming the fire spirit was in control, and Tao hadn’t just decided to follow in my recent footsteps, and drink himself into oblivion.

“If he was drunk,” Azriel said softly, “he could be found. But his essence has disappeared, which can only mean the elemental has overtaken him again.”

“I know that,” I snapped, then sighed and scrubbed a hand across my eyes. “Sorry. I shouldn’t be taking my frustration and anger out on you.”

He shrugged. “Is it not better to release such emotion than to restrain it?”

“Depends who’s at the end of the release.” If it was Hunter, maybe. She deserved my anger, and a whole lot more. Azriel didn’t.

“I have broad enough shoulders. I can take it.”

“And it’s just as well, given the grief I’ve been dumping on you lately.” I looked around the room, not really seeing the mess, until my gaze fell on an odd-shaped plastic globule sitting near the remains of the dining table. The computer. And while we’d had everything backed up, spotting that globule oddly reminded me of the cuff link I’d found at Lauren’s place on the Gold Coast. I’d shoved it in my purse and had promptly forgotten about it, which was stupid, given that finding out who’d made the thing might just provide our next step forward.

I got my phone and Googled “maker’s marks using the letters RJ.” Over a dozen different links immediately popped up, so I headed into the bedroom, plopped down on the bed, and started going through them. After trawling through nine different sites and coming up empty, I hit a U.S.-based site that listed trademarks and contact details for artists and metalsmiths, both in the U.S. and overseas. And that’s where I hit gold – or silver, given most of the smiths listed on the site appeared to deal more in that than gold. The maker was one Rubin Johnson, originally from Santa Fe, but now living and working in Sydney, Australia. It listed a shop address rather than a home one, so I checked the yellow pages and confirmed the address was still current. A search for his home address didn’t reveal anything. Maybe his listing was private.

“Do you wish to talk to him?” Azriel asked.

I glanced at my watch. “Yes, but not right now. It’s barely six. He’s not likely to be there until nine.”

“Which leaves us with three hours to fill. Unless, of course, you have something else you plan to do.”

I half smiled. “I know what I’d love to do, but I’m thinking you might veto the suggestion.”

“You’d be thinking right.” His expression was severe but amusement crinkled the corners of his blue eyes. “I would love nothing more than to be with you physically, but we cannot afford the distraction given the Raziq, your father, and Hunter all want to assure your allegiance is to them alone.”

“Yeah, but none of them can get into our home. Not with my father’s wards in place.”

“The wards will not stop Ania, and your father is as capable of enforcing his will on them as the Raziq. And Hunter will have many contract killers who are not vampires she could call on.”

I poked his chest with a stiffened finger. “You, reaper, are such a spoilsport.”

He caught my hand, raised it to his lips, and kissed it. “Trust me, if we survive all this, I intend to make love to you so often and so well that you will beg me to stop.”

I laughed and stepped close enough that my breasts were pressed against his chest. “I’m part werewolf, remember. You could be waiting a long time for me to beg off.”

“I should hope so.” He kissed me, long and slow, before finally adding, “In the meantime, you should rest.”

I sighed again. “I guess if you’re going to insist —”

“And I am.”

“Then you’d better escort me to bed, James.”

He did. And, frustratingly, did nothing more than that.

The first thing I did when I woke was ring Mike at his office. It was eight thirty, so I had no doubt he’d be there by now.

“Good morning, Risa.” The voice was plummy and feminine, and belonged to his secretary, Beatrice. “You’re calling early – hope there’s not a problem.”

“There’s not.” The vid-phone was turned off on her end, so I couldn’t see what color her hair was this month. But the last time I’d been at the office it had been pale purple, and the month before that a vibrant red. Despite her age, she loved hair color variety as much as I loved Coke and cake. “Mike left me a message to give him a call ASAP. Is he around?”

“Just a moment, and I’ll put you through.”

There was a click, a brief moment of silence, then Mike’s aristocratic features came on-screen. I didn’t actually know how old Mike was – he didn’t look old, and yet he didn’t seem young, either. His hair was black but cut short, the dark curls clinging close to his head like a helmet. His eyes – a clear, striking gray – seemed to hold eons of knowledge behind them. Given Mom had once commented that he had a genius-level IQ, I guess that was to be expected.

“Risa,” he said, his voice low and pleasant, “thank you for ringing back so promptly.”

“I thought I’d better. It sounded urgent.”

“Not so much urgent, more a warning.”

I raised my eyebrows. “About what?”

“About the tax department’s crackdown on small businesses. I just wanted to make sure you have all receipts in order, just in case RYT’s is in line to be audited.”

“Aside from the last couple of weeks, yes.” And he knew that, so why ring me? It wasn’t like the possibility of being audited was new, but as far as I knew, businesses like our café were generally only targeted when certain flags were thrown up. “Have they contacted us?”

“No, I just wanted to ensure everything was in order on the off chance we were.”

I frowned. I wasn’t sure why, but something just didn’t feel right. “Mike, is everything okay?”

One dark eyebrow rose. It made his nose look overly large. “Yes, of course it is. Why?”

“You just seem… out of sorts.” I cleared my throat. “And then there’s the dinner invitation, which basically came out of nowhere.”

“Not really. Your mother and I —”

“I’m not Mom,” I reminded him gently. “I can’t give you what she gave you.”

Something close to horror flitted across his face. “Good god, you don’t think I want to —”

“No,” I cut in hastily. “I don’t. But I do think that perhaps you’re missing her, and I’m the next best thing to being with her.”

But even as I spoke, I couldn’t help noticing that for all his outrage, his gaze remained steely. Calculating.

Something was definitely going on, and maybe I needed to find out what. And hey, what was one more problem on an already overloaded plate?

“I do miss her,” he said. “Enormously. But to imply I might wish to capture what I had with her with you is beyond —”

“I didn’t mean to offend you, Mike,” I cut in again. “The invitation surprised me, that’s all. And I’m more than happy to have dinner one night.”

“I have no desire to make you uncomfortable,” he replied, voice cool.

“Mike, it’s fine. I’m busy for the next day or so, but I’m free anytime after that.” If the Raziq, my father, or the wanna-be queen of the world didn’t have other plans for me, that is.

He sniffed. It was an oddly regal sound that stirred the edges of memory, though I wasn’t entirely sure why. “Friday then?”

“That would be lovely. Thank you.”

“I shall let you know when and where. Until then, good-bye.”

And with that, he hung up. Great. I’d managed to offend the man my mother had not only trusted financially, but apparently depended on emotionally and physically for a good part of her life. It seemed to be my lot of late to make all the wrong moves.

“You have trusted your instincts up until now,” Azriel commented. “It would be foolish to ignore them, even if the person involved was a friend of your mother’s.”

I twisted around. He was back in his usual spot, his arms crossed as he stared out the window rather than at me. The morning sunshine caressed his skin, lending it a warm golden glow.

“Which is why I agreed to meet him for dinner. It’s easier to sense when someone is lying face-to-face.” I eyed him for a moment, sensing tension even if there was no evidence of it in the way he stood. “Are you annoyed that I’m meeting him?”

“No. And you do not have to explain your motives to me.”

He might be saying he wasn’t annoyed, but the emotion swirling through the link between us suggested otherwise.

“I agree – I don’t. I just wanted to.” I flipped the bedcovers off my legs and walked over to him. He didn’t move, so I wrapped my hands around his waist and rested a cheek on his shoulder. “Misunderstanding, an unwillingness to trust, and sheer pigheadedness – all mostly on my part, granted – is no way to start a relationship. I’m trying to make up for all that, but you have to do the same, Azriel.”

“I do not understand what you mean.”

But he did. The tightening of his shoulder and arm muscles was evidence enough of that. If his hands had been visible, I very much suspected they’d be clenched.

“Why are you so annoyed that I agreed to have dinner with Mike?”

He was silent for a moment, then said, “I do not actually know. It is irrational given I know full well your reasons for doing so.”

I couldn’t help grinning. “It may be irrational, but it makes my little heart sing.”

He turned and wrapped his arms around my waist. “And why would that be?”

“Because that particular irrationality is called jealousy, and it means you really do care for me.”

He studied me for several heartbeats, a smile tugging at his lips and his expression somewhat bemused.

Then he sighed, shook his head, and said, “For a very smart woman, Risa Jones, you are sometimes extraordinarily dumb.”