Darkness Splintered

Chapter 11

I blinked. To say I hadn’t been expecting a comment like that would be the understatement of the year – in a year that had been full of them.

“I’m gathering you have got a reason for insulting me like that. Or are insults some weird reaper way of showing affection?”

He smiled. “It is hardly an insult when it is the truth. And you have had the answer to the question you fear to ask for some time now.”

“You know, you’re not making anything any clearer.”

His amusement grew. “Why do you think you are pregnant?”

My eyebrows rose even as I wondered what the hell that had to do with anything. “I got pregnant because we had unprotected sex.”

“Yes. And as I told you once before, a reaper can only ever have a child with his Caomh.”

Caomh. The reaper term for life-mate. I could only stare as the word echoed around my brain, unimaginable and impossible.

“But nevertheless fact,” he said softly. “You carry the truth of what has lain unspoken between us since the very beginning.”

I swallowed heavily, not daring to believe that fate had, against all the odds and two very different worlds, made this man mine.

“Believe,” he said. “You are my body, my soul, the energy by which I live, and the song in my heart. It was not for our son, or the keys, or the fate of our two worlds that I pulled you back to life. I did it because I cannot live without you.”

And with that, he kissed me. It was a fierce thing, his kiss; fierce, and passionate, and joyous. It was everything I’d spent half my life searching for, everything I’d ever wanted, all wrapped up in one glorious action.

But it didn’t end there.

He touched me, caressed me, even as I ran my hands over his beautiful body, teasing him as thoroughly as he teased me, until sweat stung our skins and the smell of desire was thick in the air.

I wanted him; dear god, how I wanted him, but I didn’t immediately give in to the need. Instead, I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him again, pressing my body hard against his, until it was difficult to tell where his skin ended and mine began. Desire and heat burned through and around us, until even the very air we breathed seemed to be boiling.

He slid his hands down my back, then cupped my butt and lifted me with little effort. A heartbeat later, he was in me. It felt like heaven and, for several seconds, neither of us moved, simply enjoying the sensations and the heat that rose with this basic joining of flesh. Then the heat became too great to ignore and he thrust deeper – harder – his cock sliding in and out of me with growing urgency. Energy flickered across our skin, dancing between us, tearing through us, until the music of his being played through me, and mine through him. It was a dance, a caress, a tease. It was movement, and heat, and desire. It was crazy and electric, a firestorm that ripped through us even as we remained in flesh. It fueled the urgency and heightened the pleasure, and the desire coursing through my body built, until it was all I could do to keep hold of the pleasure that threatened to tear us both apart.

His movements became more and more urgent, until my whole body shook with the intensity of them. I burned, tightened, until I couldn’t breathe and it felt like I would shatter.

“Please,” I somehow whispered, “please.”

He responded instantly, his movements fierce. I shuddered, my control crumbling as my orgasm began to sweep through me, intense and violent. A heartbeat later, he cried out, his body stiffening against mine as he came.

For several minutes neither of us moved. He leaned his forehead against mine, his breathing harsh against my lips.

I smiled, and touched his cheek gently. “If you continue to love me like that for eternity, I will be one contented woman.”

“I do not believe I would have any complaints, either.” He lowered me gently. “As much as I would like to linger here, with you, we should continue with the key search.”

I sighed. “Yes. I’ll just grab a quick shower first.”

He nodded and stepped aside. I padded across to my wardrobe, grabbing underclothing, jeans and a T-shirt, then headed into the bathroom.

Twenty minutes later we were standing in front of Rubin Johnson’s little store, situated in McMahon’s Point, just across the bay from the opera house. The shop itself was one of those quaint, single-front two-story Victorians that were everywhere in Sydney, although this one was in the process of being renovated, if the splashes of paint across the windows were anything to go by.

“That is not paint,” Azriel said, voice grim.

I glanced at him sharply, then stepped closer. Unlike the shops on either side, the window here was only half frame rather than full. A wide shelf stretched the length of it, and was lined with necklaces, bracelets. No cuff links, but then, they’d certainly be easier to pocket than the intricate and heavy stone and silver work currently displayed.

The brown splatters I’d presumed were paint had a crusty, cracked look close up, which dried paint didn’t usually get. It was blood – old blood.

My gaze skimmed the jewelry, but none of it appeared to have been splattered. Not that I could see from this angle, anyway. But there were several globs of rusty red near the right end of the shelf and a spray of the stuff up the nearby wall. It was the sort of spray that could happen only when a major artery had been cut.

My gaze jumped to the interior of the shop. It had an open plan, with glass display cabinets lining the long wall to the left and a glass display table situated in the middle of the room. A counter stretched the length of the rear wall and, behind it to the left, a set of wooden stairs led upward. Nothing seemed out of place or disturbed, and there was no sign of anyone – dead or alive.

“That is because the body lies underneath this window. You cannot see it because of the thickness of the shelf.”

“We need to get in there.” I stepped back and scanned the walls. The place was alarmed, but there was no camera, at least out here. I hadn’t noticed one when I was peering in the window, either. I pulled my sleeve over my hand and tried opening the door. “It’s locked. We’ll probably set off the alarm when we go inside, but we should have enough time to examine the body before either the cops or the security firm get here.”

“Then let’s go.”

He caught my hand, and we reappeared just inside the door. The first thing I saw was the alarm panel. Neither the door’s nor the windows’ indicator lights were lit, meaning the system had been switched off. Suggesting, perhaps, that Rubin Johnson had not only known his killer, but had invited him in.

I turned and saw the body. He was barefoot, and wearing an old-fashioned woolen dressing gown that was so well worn the blue check was faded and patchy. He’d been shoved under the shelf like so much rubbish, his limbs at impossible angles to his body.

Azriel walked over and squatted next to him. “He has no head.”

“What?”

He glanced at me, expression neutral but his anger burning through my mind. “His head has been removed.”

“Why the hell would someone remove his head?” I scanned the rest of the room. He’d obviously been killed here – the arterial sprays across the wall and floor were evidence enough of that. “Surely no one would want a trophy that size.”

Or that macabre.

“I do not think it has anything to do with a trophy, but a means of stopping us. Or rather, me.”

“So you can’t read his thoughts.”

“Yes.”

“Which would imply whoever did this is fully aware a reaper can access the memories of the freshly dead.”

“Yes.”

Meaning Lauren had either realized she was missing the cuff link, or she was simply taking out anyone or anything that could pin down her location. And if the latter, that undoubtedly meant there had been something here that could give away her current whereabouts. Maybe she was a longtime customer.

That’s presuming our dark sorceress was the one responsible for this murder.

“If it was not Lauren, then it confirms there is another sorcerer involved. The taint of dark magic lingers in the air.”

“Meaning the bastards are still one step ahead of us.”

He pushed to his feet. “Unfortunately, yes.”

I stared down at the broken body. From this angle, I couldn’t actually see the stump of his neck, thanks to the shadows and the depth of the shelf, and of that I was glad. I’d lost the contents of my stomach far too often in the last twenty-four hours, and I had no desire to test its stability again.

“He’s wearing a dressing gown, so he obviously lived upstairs. It might be worth doing a quick search through the whole premises, just in case he keeps a record of buyers somewhere.”

“Is that likely?”

I shrugged. “Right now, we can’t afford to overlook any option. I’ll take upstairs.”

He nodded, and I headed for the stairs. The upper level consisted of a small living area, a separate bathroom and bedroom, and what could only be described as a kitchen nook. There was also a balcony off the kitchen that provided nice views over the bay.

I grabbed some gloves from under the sink and went searching. There were no filing cabinets, so I went through his drawers. I found all sorts of bills, tax records, notes, as well as various bits of design artwork, but no clientele records.

Which was pretty typical of our luck, really. I clomped down the stairs. “Anything?”

Azriel shook his head. “There is an index of names and addresses, but none of them are our sorcerers or the Gold Coast address.”

“Lauren’s sharing that place with a man, so maybe he’s one of the names listed.”

“Perhaps, but as I said, the Gold Coast address was not listed.”

“Which doesn’t mean he can’t be in there. It just means he might have a secondary address. It might be worth taking the index cards with us and getting Stane to do a check.”

“Why not your uncle? Would it not be easier for the Directorate to conduct such a search?”

“Yeah, but that would mean involving Rhoan again, and I’m not about to do that unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

“And yet you’re willing to involve Stane?”

I grimaced at the unspoken implication, even though it was perfectly true. I was more prepared to risk Stane’s life than Rhoan’s, even though, of the two, Rhoan was more capable of defending himself. “The one thing my uncle has that Stane doesn’t is Hunter as his ultimate boss.”

“You can be certain that Hunter is well aware of Stane’s participation in this quest.”

“Oh, there’s no doubt about that.” Hell, thanks to the Cazadors, she knew everything I did and everyone I talked to. Except for the last couple of hours, that was. I shivered and tried not to itch at hands that still felt bloody, even if no blood had actually been spilled. “It’s just that if I lose Rhoan, I’ll more than likely lose Riley, thanks to their twin bond. And it may be brutal, but I’d rather risk Stane’s life than two people I consider pseudo parents.”

Although I was hoping like hell it didn’t come down to that. Jak had already lost his life to this quest. I really, really, didn’t want that to happen to anyone else.

And yet the notion that others would be lost before this quest was over was one that wouldn’t go away and wouldn’t be ignored.

Azriel picked up the index cards, his expression unreadable and little emotion evident in the link. I really had no idea what he thought of my reasoning, but surely he understood. After all, reapers did what was necessary to get the job done.

“We head to Stane’s, then?” was all he said.

I hesitated, then nodded. “After that, we might go to Adeline Greenfield’s place, and ask whether our Michael Greenfield could possibly be her brother.”

Azriel frowned. “I thought you intended to see your uncle next?”

I grimaced. “I did, but after that confrontation with Rhoan, I’ve rethought the wisdom of that.”

In other words, cowardice had come to the fore. But one angry confrontation a day was really all I could handle at the moment.

“It is not cowardice to wish to avoid a confrontation that might set those you care about on a crash course with death,” Azriel said softly. “And that is what all of us involved in this quest face.”

My gaze flashed to his. “You stay alive, reaper, no matter what. I have no intention of raising our child alone.”

He smiled. “Trust me, I have no intention of going anywhere. Whether the fates give me that choice is another matter entirely.”

“Well, they fucking better,” I said, as I stepped into his arms. “Because if I survive all the chaos they’ve created, I think I deserve some sort of reward.”

He raised an eyebrow, amusement evident. “And I’m to be that reward?”

“You’ll do for starters.”

He laughed, and delight skated through me. I cupped his cheek and lightly brushed my thumb across the small laugh lines near his mouth. Lines that hadn’t been there when he’d first made an appearance in my life. “You should do that more often.”

“Once we are through this, perhaps I will.”

And with that, he swept us to Stane’s.

Only Stane wasn’t alone. Tao was with him.

I stared at him for a moment, taking in the haunted eyes, hollowed cheeks, and dusty, partially burned clothing, then all but threw myself into his arms. He caught me with a grunt and his arms wrapped around me, his grip so fierce my ribs were in danger of cracking. I didn’t care. He was here, he was whole, and that was all that mattered.

“God,” I muttered, wrapping my arms around his neck and holding him as fiercely as he held me. “I’m so glad you’re safe.”

“So am I,” he said softly. “So am I.”

I pulled back, my gaze searching his. The flames had totally retreated and there was little more than ash and desperation in his eyes.

“What happened?”

He shrugged and scraped one hand across his chin. “I don’t really know. One minute I was home, and the next I was flat on my face in a field the other side of Sunbury, near the landfill center there.”

“The elemental was heading back to where it was created again.”

“Yes.” He shook his head. “And it was close to getting there by the time I regained control. Up until that point I was —” He paused and a shudder went through him. He briefly closed his eyes, his voice breaking as he added, “I was nowhere. I was nothing. No matter what I did, no matter how hard I fought, all there was were flames and heat and endless agony. I think I’d rather be dead than go through that again.”

“Tao —”

His gaze hit mine. Fierce. Angry. “Don’t say it, Ris. Don’t you dare say it. You have no idea what it’s like to lose your entire being to another force, and until you do, don’t lecture me or feed me platitudes.”

I didn’t say anything. Couldn’t really, simply because anything I did say probably would come off sounding like one or the other.

Tao knew how I felt and what I believed. I’d told him often enough already. He knew we were there for him, no matter what. Just as I knew that, right now, he was angry and scared; who wouldn’t be, placed in the same position?

So I simply dropped a kiss on his ash-stained cheek, then stepped back, took the index cards from Azriel, and handed them to Stane. His gaze, when it met mine, was sympathetic. Maybe he’d tried comforting Tao as well, only to receive a similar response.

“Where did you get these?” He flicked through the cards with a slight frown. “It’s very old-fashioned to store information in this form these days.”

“They were stolen from the premises of a dead man. Maybe he didn’t trust computers.”

Stane snorted. “It’s far easier to steal information from these things than it is from computers.”

“Says the man who hacks for fun and profit.”

He grinned. “Well, yeah, but I’m an extraordinary individual. The common man generally isn’t as clever as me and my kind.”

His kind meaning hackers and black marketeers, not werewolves, obviously. “If we haven’t already overwhelmed you and your computers with requests, could you do a search through these and see if there’s any link – however tenuous – to Lauren Macintyre?”

“Sure. Could take a while, though. There’s a fair few names in here, by the look of it.”

“I know, and I’m sorry, but it could be the only way we’re going to track down our sorceress.” And maybe the only way to save Mirri. But there was no point adding that. Stane would do his best, as usual. “We need to know the minute you find anything.”

“Speaking of findings, I managed to get the autopsy results for the body parts and teeth the cops found at the storage place that blew up.” Stane reached over to the second of his desks and flicked a screen. Several documents flashed onto it. “Long story short, the bits did belong to Genevieve Sands. Problem is, she was dead long before this blast tore her apart. The coroner picked up evidence that the body had been frozen.”

“Just like the real John Nadler.” My voice was grim. “It’s beginning to look more and more likely that we’re dealing with not only a full-body face shifter, but one capable of taking multiple male and female forms.”

“If that is the case,” Azriel said, “then it is possible the clothes we saw in Lauren’s wardrobe might well have belonged to her alternate male identity.”

I glanced at him. “Yes. Which means that cuff link might yet lead us to her, even if a search through the index cards doesn’t.”

He raised an eyebrow. “How? It is an inanimate object, and in and of itself can provide no clues.”

“To you and me, yes. But to someone who has psychometry skills, maybe it can. We have to go see Adeline Greenfield about her apparently resurrected brother; maybe she can point us to someone who can help.”

“Why not ask the Brindle?” Tao said, voice a little strained, but overall sounding a whole lot less tense than a few moments ago. “Surely they have witches capable of that there?”

“Yes, but their first priority has to be Mirri —”

“Fuck,” he said, cutting me off. “I’d forgotten. How is she? How is Ilianna?”

“Okay for the moment. Ilianna’s mom and Kiandra are both helping to try to get the threads unraveled before the deadline.”

He hesitated. “And have they any hope?”

“Who knows?” I half shrugged. “But Ilianna did manage to unravel the magic in my father’s warding stones, so she has at least a basic level of understanding of what’s involved.”

“Fuck.” He thrust a hand through his tangled, matted hair. “We’ve made a right old cock-up of everything, haven’t we?”

“Not we,” I refuted softly. “Me.”

“Ris —”

“Don’t,” I cut in. “And for exactly the same reasons you gave me only minutes ago.”

He stared at me for several seconds; then the faintest trace of a smile touched his lips. “Fair enough. Although I will remind you that you can hardly be held to account for your father’s stupidity in losing the keys in the first place.”

“True, but that doesn’t absolve me of responsibility for everything else that has happened.” My voice broke, and I swallowed heavily. Damn it, I wouldn’t cry. Not again. There’d been enough tears shed for Jak for the time being, and I refused to cry for Tao or Mirri. It wasn’t over yet. They weren’t dead. And until it was all done and dusted and we knew… I paused, not wanting to think about the rest of that sentence, but it ran through my mind nevertheless.

… we knew who survived and who didn’t, there was no point in grieving. Hell, there was a fair chance I wouldn’t survive, let alone anyone else. And that would be the pits given the possibility of a happy ever after had been dangled in front of my nose.

I returned my gaze to Stane. “Any luck finding more information on Pénombre Manufacturing?”

He shook his head. “For all intents and purposes, it’s a shelf company, as I said. I have no idea how they can own that Maribyrnong premises given it shouldn’t be possible.”

“So there’s no connection to either Genevieve Sands or Lauren Macintyre?”

“None that I can find. Doesn’t mean there isn’t one, of course.” He leaned across to another screen. “There is, however, a link between Sands and Macintyre. It’s tenuous, and I’m trying to uncover more details, but it would seem that twenty-eight years ago, Sands invested in a property that Macintyre subsequently purchased.”

My eyebrows rose. “The Maribyrnong warehouse was purchased by the shelf company some twenty-eight years ago, too.”

“Yeah. Odd coincidence, don’t you think?” He half smiled. “Macintyre no longer owns the property. According to records, she sold it five years ago.”

“And the new owners?”

“It went through several, and ended up being one of the properties purchased by the consortium owned by John Nadler.”

“And round and round the circle goes,” Tao commented. “Only it seems to stop at exactly the same spot.”

Stane glanced at him. “Yeah. I’m currently doing a search on all the owners between Macintyre and Nadler, just to see what I come up with.”

“It’s worth a shot.” If nothing else, it might give us some home addresses to search. I mean, sooner or later, we had to hit gold. Or, in this case, a legitimate address that actually had the person registered as the former owner actually living there.

“Anything else?” Stane said.

I smiled. “That’s enough, don’t you think?”

“Well, I am becoming accustomed to my crates of top-shelf champagne. Not sure how I’ll manage once all this over.”

My smiled grew. “You could actually purchase them yourself.”

Shock claimed his expression, although his brown eyes twinkled. “Buy them myself? Good god, I don’t buy anything, dear woman. I’m a trader. Unfortunately, crates of Dom Pérignon aren’t something I often come across in the electronics market.”

“Then you need to get better contacts.” I glanced at Tao. “Are you heading home?”

He shook his head. “I have a feeling if I do, the elemental might wrest control from me again. I seem to do better when I have company.”

I hesitated, wondering if his being here was actually safe for Stane, then mentally slapped myself. Stane was probably in more danger from my actions than from any possibility that Tao would hurt him. So I simply said, “Do you need anything brought here from home?”

He shook his head. “Whatever I need, I’ll borrow from Stane. I just don’t —” he paused, and half shrugged. “Keep in contact.”

“I will.” I squeezed his arm gently, and tried to ignore the heat so evident in his flesh, even through the barrier of his clothes. The elemental was far from finished with this battle.

Fear washed through me yet again, but there was nothing I could do but ignore it. And hope that fate had a better plan for him than an eternity locked in nothing but fire. I turned to Azriel. “Let’s head to Adeline’s, and see if she can help us.”

He nodded, caught my hand, and a heartbeat later we were standing outside Adeline’s front gate. I raised an eyebrow. “Why not inside?”

“Because she would not appreciate such an unannounced intrusion, and given we wish her help, I thought this wiser.”

“Good thinking,” I said, and opened the wrought iron front gate.

“Someone in this team has to do it,” he replied evenly.

It took a moment for me to realize I’d just been insulted. By Azriel, of all people. My gaze shot to his, and I saw the amusement lurking underneath the serious expression. “I can’t believe you just said that!”

“Is not such a comment almost expected in this world?”

I grinned. “Yeah, but it’s not something I expected from you.”

The amusement grew. “Alas, the more time I spend in flesh, the more human my tendencies become.”

“So I’ve got a lifetime of insults to look forward to?”

“Only if you do something that would warrant such a comment.”

“I’ve hardly done something now.”

“No.” His smile broke free. “But it seemed an opportune moment to practice.”

He touched a hand to my spine, gently ushering me forward. I snorted softly and headed along the tiled pathway that wove its way to Adeline’s front door. Her house was one of those beautiful old Victorians filled with character and age. Two graceful old elms dominated her front lawn, but underneath them lay a riot of colorful flowers that filled the air with perfume. It should have overwhelmed my olfactory senses, but it didn’t.

I made my way up the steps and walked to the front door. A little gold bell sat on the right edge of the door frame, its rope cord swaying gently in the breeze. I rang it a couple of times, and the joyous sound it made had me smiling.

Footsteps echoed inside; then the wooden door opened. Adeline Greenfield was a short woman with close-cut gray hair, weathered features, and round figure. She reminded me of the grandmotherly types so often seen on TV sitcoms, and it wasn’t until you looked into her bright blue eyes that you began to suspect she was anything other than that. Her eyes glowed with a power that was almost unworldly.

“Risa,” she said, opening the security door with a welcoming smile. “Perfect timing.”

I raised my eyebrows. “You were expecting me?”

“Of course.” She stepped aside and waved us in. “I’m glad your reaper chose to be polite, however. I do so detest visitors popping into my home unannounced.”

“Which suggests you get more than your fair share of visitors popping in unannounced.” I stepped past her.

“Just head for the sitting room, dear,” she said. “And yes, I do. Ghosts have no sense of privacy these days, I’m afraid. It’s the new generation. No manners.”

I smiled and walked down the hall, my footsteps echoing on the old wooden floorboards. The air inside Adeline’s house generally smelled of ginger and various spices, but underneath them this time ran the warm, rich smell of coffee. She really had been expecting me, because Adeline didn’t drink it – she preferred tea to coffee. Her sitting room was cozy and dominated by a log fire. Embers glowed within the ashes and lent the room extra warmth. Two well-padded armchairs sat in front of the fireplace and, in between them, there was a small coffee table on which sat a teapot, a bone china cup and saucer, and the source of the coffee smell – a large mug of it, in fact.

“Please, sit,” Adeline said. When I did so, she handed me the mug, then glanced at Azriel. “Would you like anything, young man?”

“No, thank you,” Azriel said, amusement in his voice. I guess there were a few people who actually called him young man.

“Right, then,” she said, sitting down on the chair opposite and pouring tea for herself. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m afraid we’re here to ask your brother, Michael —”

“Michael?” she cut in, with a light frown. “He’s been dead for forty-odd years now.”

“Yes, I know, but we came across his name in our search” – I hesitated, then remembered I’d told her at least some of the story the last time we’d been here – “for the keys to heaven and hell’s gates, and were just wondering —”

“I assure you,” Adeline interrupted again. “Michael would never be involved in such a theft. Alive or dead.”

“I didn’t mean to imply that he was. It’s just that we think someone might have assumed his identity. In which case, we need to know more about Michael in order to track down the fraud.”

She studied me for a moment, then rose and walked over to the mantelpiece. She picked up a small, framed photograph and offered it to me. “That’s Michael. It was taken just before he died.”

The man in the photograph was silver haired, with blue eyes and round, kind features and a build not dissimilar to Adeline’s – although he was far thinner than she now was. “How old was he here?”

“Nearly thirty. Gray hair runs in the family, I’m afraid.”

“And do you have any contact with his friends? Was he close to anyone in particular, or did he make a new acquaintance just before he died?”

“Not that I’m aware of. Why?”

I ignored her question, asking instead, “And how did he die?”

“Accident. He was heavily into the motor cross scene, and slid off during a race and hit several trees. Unfortunately, one of the smaller ones speared him. He never recovered.”

So, an accident rather than murder, Azriel commented. Perhaps in this case, the shifter merely appropriated the name of someone with few relatives.

Sounds like it. Still, it couldn’t hurt to be sure. “And he was buried appropriately?”

Her frown grew. “Of course. I ensured he could not be raised, if that is your next question. And it isn’t as if a zombie would be much use to anyone anyway. They are very obviously dead.”

But they could still be damn dangerous if raised by the wrong person.

“True, but that wasn’t the point of the question. You see, Michael is not the only person whose identity our shifter has stolen, but up until your brother, he’s murdered all those whose lives he’s stepped into. I just wanted to make sure Michael wasn’t another of his victims.”

“Ah,” she said softly. “Then no, he isn’t. It was very much an accident – there were plenty of witnesses to the event.”

At least that was something. I handed the photograph back. “If someone is using his identity, is there any way you could trace them?”

“Magically, you mean?”

When I nodded, she grimaced. “I’m afraid not. I’d have to have something of theirs to even attempt a reading.”

I dug into my purse and retrieved the cuff link. “We found this, although we have no real idea if it belongs to our fake Michael Greenwood or someone else.”

She plucked it from my fingertips and studied it for several minutes. “I think it might be possible to trace whoever owned this item. It is not, however, something I wish to do without some form of protection.”

“Why?”

Her gaze rose to mine. “Because whoever owned this cuff link has a particularly nasty resonance.”

“We think the owner might be a dark sorceress.”

“That would certainly explain the resonance.” She paused, her expression curious. “How is the sorceress connected to whoever might be using Michael’s identity?”

“We suspect our sorceress is a face shifter who is able to not only make a full body shift, but can become male or female, too.”

“Which is an extremely rare occurrence.”

“I know.”

She glanced down at the cuff link, then rose abruptly. “Come along then.”

She bustled out of the room and didn’t look back. I hastily placed my coffee mug back on the table, the movement so sudden liquid splashed over the rim, scalding my fingers and spilling across the table. I grabbed a napkin, dropped it over the mess, then ran after Adeline. She led us into a room farther down the hall – one opposite the room in which she’d taught me to astral travel. Energy caressed my skin as I went through the doorway, a warning that wards were very active here. The décor was simple – a small round table, a half dozen thickly cushioned chairs, and warmly colored tapestries on the wall. Candles burned in the four corners of the room, their aroma filling the air with lavender and sage. They were also the only source of light. This, I suspected, was the place she did most of her business and, in very many ways, it reminded me of the room Mom had used when she had clients wanting to talk to relatives who’d moved on.

“Please, sit.” Adeline waved a hand to one of the chairs, then sat down opposite. “I’ll attempt lithomancy, which is a form of divination using stones. I think there is enough of a resonance within the sapphire to at least give me some idea as to who might have owned it. Whether I can pull current location information from it might well depend on how long they have owned it. I will need your help, however.”

I nodded. “Just tell us what to do.”

“Reaper, please sit between myself and your charge.”

Azriel obeyed without comment. She placed the cuff link on a small velvet cushion sitting in the middle of the table, then sprinkled it with sage, which I knew from Ilianna was used for cleansing or purifying. Adeline slid her chair back slightly, opened a drawer, and produced a small crystal ball. This one, unlike most, had a small indent in its base, and it was this section she placed over the cuff link.

“Now,” she said, her voice brisk and businesslike. “This will work along similar lines as a séance, only instead of spirits we will be seeking to connect to the essence of whoever owns this piece. As I said, what we see in the crystal will very much depend on how long the stone has been in the possession of its owner.”

“So we join hands and chant?”

“Join hands, yes. Chant, no. I just need you two to focus on the cuff link. I will channel our energy into drawing whatever the sapphire holds into the crystal so that you might see it.” She hesitated. “I cannot guarantee we will see anything, however. Lithomancy is generally used to ‘see’ the past, clarify the present, or predict the future. It is rarely used for what we are about to attempt.”

I nodded. She held out her hands, palms up. I placed one hand in hers, the other in Azriel’s. Her skin was warm against mine, and far softer than Azriel’s more calloused grip – naturally enough, given one was an earthbound witch and the other a gray-fields warrior. Adeline closed her eyes. After a few moments, energy began to rise, a heartbeat that seemed to fill the silence. As it grew stronger, the small crystal began to cloud over. It cleared again after a few moments, revealing a small, book-filled room. A study of some kind. The view shifted, and revealed the back of a woman. She was thickset, with almost manly shoulders and short colorless hair. It wasn’t white, wasn’t gray, wasn’t anything, really. It reminded me somewhat of an unwashed canvas, waiting for the arrival of paint.

A sorceress in her true form, perhaps? Azriel commented softly.

Perhaps.

The image shifted again. This time we got a side view of her; she had a large, almost regal-looking nose and thin lips framed by deep lines. Not someone who smiled very often. It wasn’t, however, Lauren. Or not as we knew her, anyway.

She rose and walked across the room. Our viewpoint followed her. She gathered several armloads of papers and returned, dropping them all in a suitcase and closing it. She left the room, but moments later returned, carrying another case.

She was packing up.

Which meant if we didn’t get there soon, we’d lose her. And yet there wasn’t enough information coming through the crystal to give an indication of where this was all happening.

The woman moved across the room again, her stout fingers brushing the edges of a framed painting. After a moment, the painting slid aside and revealed a wall safe. She opened this and took out four small items – three daggers and a broken bayonet.

Excitement surged through me, but it was tempered by panic. I had no doubt one of those things was the key to the second gate, and if she had it narrowed down to the four of them, then it wouldn’t take her very long to find the correct one.

Damn it, we were so close! All we needed was the where and the who…

We didn’t get it. The clouds closed over the image, then faded away. It was all I could do not to scream in frustration.

Adeline sighed and pulled her hands from ours. “I’m sorry, but that’s all I could get. As I said, this is not the usual way I use lithomancy.”

“Thanks for trying, Adeline. At least we know she’s out there.” To Azriel, I added, Could you transport us to that study?

No. There wasn’t enough information. All we saw were bookcases and a safe. It could be anywhere.

I slumped back in my chair and wearily rubbed my eyes. Damn it, why couldn’t things just go our way for a change? “How are we going to find the location of that place?”

“You could always try astrally.”

I frowned. “How could that help?”

“Well, for astral travel, you simply imagine where you want to be. It’s not the actual address that matters.”

I abruptly sat up. “Of course.” I could transport myself to that study, and from there, gather enough information for Azriel to take us there.

“It would be best, however,” Adeline continued, “if you did it here, where I can keep an eye on events and intervene if need be.”

Which Azriel could not, if something happened. It certainly made sense, but I still asked, “Why? I mean, it’s not like she could sense my astral presence, is it?”

“Many witches can, and you’ve already mentioned the possibility that this woman is a dark sorceress. And while you should be safe enough from any form of magical attack originating from this plane, if she is a dark sorceress, it would not be beyond her skill to mount an attack astrally.”

“Which I have no doubt she would do if she in any way suspected my presence.”

She’d certainly shown a propensity to cover her bases and attack so far. And while I might be doing little more than scooting out of that room to see where she was located, there was no way in hell I was going to risk getting attacked, astrally or otherwise. Been there, done that, and had no desire to do it again.

I added, “Are you available to try this right now?”

“I left the day free,” she said with a smile. “I expected you might be needing additional help.”

“I don’t know how I can ever thank you, Adeline.”

She waved the comment away and rose. “Stop these idiots, and that will be thanks enough.”

“That we can do.”

She nodded. “Let’s go, then. I suspect we don’t have much time, given she appeared to be packing up.”

I took off my shoes and padded after her. The room on the opposite side of the hall smelled faintly of lavender and chamomile, and my feet sank into a thick layer of mats and silk that covered the entire floor area.

“Lie down and make yourself comfortable,” Adeline said. “Do you need guidance?”

“No, I’ve stepped onto the plane a few times since I was last here.”

“Then I shall simply monitor.” She sat cross-legged near the door, her hands folded neatly in her lap.

I glanced at Azriel, who stood guard near the closed door – more for reassurance than anything else – then released a long, slow breath and imagined the tension within flowing out with it. Then I followed the routine Adeline had taught me. Within minutes I was not only on the astral plane but in the place we’d seen in the crystal. The woman was still in the study, although all four items from the safe were now neatly bubble wrapped and packed in the second case. Part of me wanted to move closer to the items, just to see if I was able to pick up any sort of vibration that would tell me which one was the actual key, but I resisted the temptation. I had no idea whether this woman would sense my astral presence or, if the key did react, whether she’d be able to sense that.

The last thing I needed right now was to give her any more of a head start than she already had.

Instead, I imagined myself standing outside the building that housed this room, but just as I did, the woman abruptly straightened. I hoped like hell she hadn’t sensed me – that she’d just finished her packing – but I couldn’t be certain, because the astral plane whisked me outside. The study was housed in a two-story brown brick warehouse that had been converted to a living accommodation. Unlike ours, however, this one – if the buzzers near the entrance were anything to go by – had more than one apartment within its four walls. Which wasn’t a whole lot of help given we could hardly go knocking on every door to find the right one.

I tried again, this time imagining myself standing outside the front door of the apartment that housed that study and, with very little sense of movement, I was suddenly in front of a very upmarket wooden and glass door. HARRIET MONTERREY, APARTMENT 1B, the little sign under the buzzer read.

Which was all I needed.

I imagined myself back in my body, and scrambled to my feet the minute I was. The room spun abruptly around me, and if not for the fact that Azriel grabbed my arm to steady me, I would have fallen.

“Whoa,” I muttered. “Did that way too fast, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Adeline said, voice dry. “But were you successful?”

“Yes, and I’m sorry, but we have to run. Thanks for the help and the coffee.”

She smiled. “You’re welcome to both, but perhaps when this is all over, you can actually stay and chat.”

“When this is all over, consider it a date.” It was the least I could do, after all. I glanced at Azriel. “You know where we’re going?”

“I have picked the necessary information from your memories, yes.”

I smiled. At least mind sharing sometimes saved the necessity of words. “She’s on the move, and she may have sensed me.”

“Then we go in ready to fight. Draw your sword.”

I did so, then stepped into his embrace. A second later we were in the study we’d seen in the crystal.

The woman and the cases were gone.

She had, however, left something behind for us – demons.

There were half a dozen in all, insubstantial wisps that were all teeth and claws. The bigger brothers and sisters of the Ania, I suspected.

Two of them came straight at me. I backpedaled fast and raised Amaya, sweeping her from left to right. She hissed, her flames splattering across the floorboards as her sharp point tore through one of the approaching creatures. The demon moaned – a sound abruptly cut off as its remaining fragments were swept up in Amaya’s trailing fire and burned to a crisp.

The second creature swept around to my right, attempting to attack from behind. I spun, and was confronted by the sight of a fistful of wickedly barbed teeth coming straight at my face. I swore and dropped. The demon whooshed over my head, the breeze of its passing strong enough that my hair was tugged after it. I twisted around, saw the creature’s wispy form spreading like a sail as it tried to break and turn, and I thrust upward with Amaya, twisting her steel into the creature’s tail. It screamed, the sound one of fury, then swung and bit her blade. There was enough force in the attack that her steel vibrated, and I’m not sure who was more surprised – me or Amaya. Then she made a sound suspiciously like a chuckle and her flames flared, wrapping around the creature, capturing it tight as she slowly – almost lovingly – consumed it.

I shuddered – although you’d think I’d be used to my sword’s bloodthirsty bent by now – and looked past her. Azriel stabbed Valdis through the heart of a creature, literally exploding it, then swung around. His fierce expression became one of relief as his gaze met mine. Then he turned and ran, leaving me flatfooted with surprise. I swore and galloped after him, catching a brief glimpse of his disappearing butt as he dived through a doorway farther down the hall.

I was three steps away from repeating the procedure when the goddamn room exploded.