Darkness Splintered

Chapter 4

For several heartbeats, I couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t even breathe.

My home was destroyed. While there were no flames, smoke drifted lazily from several sections of the building and the air was thick with its acrid scent. Firemen were rolling up long lengths of white hoses, and there were both firemen and cops picking their way through the remains of the kitchen end of the building. The other end of the building, which housed both the garage and the bedrooms, showed some evidence of scorching on the bricks and on the half-open roller door, but otherwise, it seemed to have escaped any major damage – at least from the fire. Whether it had escaped water damage was another matter entirely.

Oh, god. Tao. He’d been home. He could be hurt, injured…

I pushed through the gathered crowd, then ducked under the police tape that fenced off a wide area around our warehouse building. A cop caught me before I got three steps.

“Miss, you can’t go in there —”

“I fucking live there!” I yelled back, and brought my heel down on his foot as hard as I could. He cursed freely, but he didn’t release me. “Damn it, let me go! I need to find —”

Hands gripped me, shook me. “Ris, it’s okay. I’m okay.”

I blinked, staring up almost owlishly at the figure that held my arms so tightly. Then it registered that it was Tao, that he was here and whole, even if a little singed. I threw my arms around him and hugged him fiercely. “Oh, thank god,” I whispered. “For a moment I thought —”

“For a moment there, I almost was.” His voice was grim. He glanced at the man behind me, and added, “She’s my flatmate.”

“She’s damn lucky I don’t press assault charges,” the officer replied grimly. “Both of you, get back behind the tape and stay there until otherwise advised.”

Tao slipped his hand under my elbow and guided me across the road, finding us both a perch on the old brick fence five houses down from our place. He didn’t say anything, just sat beside me, a brooding figure that smelled of smoke and fire and fear. It was that last scent that had unease stirring through me.

I’m not sure how long we sat there, watching and not talking. Long enough that night came in, long enough for me to get colder than I’d ever thought possible, despite having a man of fire sitting beside me. Or maybe even because of it. Long enough for the fire marshals to finally declare the old building safe and the police to unwrap the tape and allow everyone back into their houses.

Even us.

Without comment, Tao rose and offered me his hand. I placed my fingers in his, and he tugged me upright. His flesh was hot, and it wasn’t the natural heat of a werewolf. It was the heat of a man who was barely controlling the fire elemental he’d consumed to save Ilianna’s life – an elemental he was now battling for control over his own body.

Of course, both he and Ilianna had been present at the sacred site where the elementals had been created only because I’d needed their help to uncover information from a book my father had left me. Which meant that the battle Tao faced now was very much my fault. I should have stopped them from coming… should have done a lot of things. But I couldn’t change the past. I could only change the future.

And hope like hell that Tao won his battle.

My gaze raked the black, broken end of our warehouse home. Was that what had happened here? Had the elemental tried to wrest control from him again?

I very much suspected it might be.

As we ducked under the scorched roller doors, I noted what looked suspiciously like a handprint melted into the side of his Ferrari. My motorbike was safely tucked away in the secure parking lot near RYT’s, our open-all-hours café, but my old SUV was here. Luckily, it appeared undamaged.

The security door at the top of the stairs was open but undamaged, and water trickled out, a steady stream that tumbled down the metal steps like a mini waterfall. I followed Tao through the door, then stopped. The main living room was a goddamn mess. The walls, floors, and furniture had all sustained both smoke and water damage. Even the industrial fans situated high in the vaulted ceiling were damaged, the big blades bent and twisted by the heat of the blaze. The ceiling itself, though scorched, appeared relatively intact overall. It was in the kitchen where the fire had obviously started, because even from where I stood, it was easy to see that there was very little left except a twisted and blackened mess of wood and metal.

Thankfully, the fire hadn’t gotten anywhere near the bedrooms, although I had no doubt that even with all the thick doors closed, everything inside would reek of smoke.

“What the hell happened, Tao?” I said softly.

He wearily scrubbed his eyes with a soot-grimed hand. “What do you think happened? I lost fucking control again.”

“How?”

I rubbed my arms in a vague attempt to warm up. The wind blustered through the broken windows, stirring the ash and making paper remnants pirouette across the floor. The room was cold, wet, and stunk to high heaven, but there was nothing more miserable in the room than the wolf who stood before me.

“I don’t really know.” He moved across to the kitchen; a long, angular figure that was far too skinny these days, even for a wolf. Even his warm brown hair looked lank and unhealthy. It was as if his body was using everything it could to fight the monster that resided within. “One minute I was getting a roast ready for our dinner, the next I was standing in the middle of an inferno.”

I picked my way through the puddles and stopped beside him. “You had no warning of any kind?”

“Not this time.” His gaze came to mine. The fear and desperation in his warm brown eyes had my stomach flip-flopping. He wasn’t only losing the battle, but very near giving up. “It’s stronger than before. Stronger than —”

“Don’t say it,” I said fiercely. “Because it’s not true. You’re the strongest man I know, and the mere fact that you’re still here, still fighting this thing, proves it.”

He snorted. “You’ve known a lot of people who’ve consumed a fire spirit, have you?”

“No, and that’s the fucking point.” I glared at him. “If it has happened before, then those people obviously haven’t survived the merger, because there’s no record of it anywhere. But you’ve not only survived, you’ve retained control. Most of the time, anyway.”

“Yeah, but it’s the times I don’t that worry me. They’re starting to happen more and more, Ris.” He waved a hand at the ruined kitchen. “I don’t want to do this to either you or Ilianna, or anyone else for that matter.”

“But even when the elemental has taken over, you’ve never hurt anyone —”

“I hurt you,” he cut in. “And if not for Azriel, you’d have lost use of your damn hand.”

“That happened because I grabbed you. My fault, not yours.” I squeezed his arm gently. “And the minute I did touch you, you regained control.” And I’d do it again in a heartbeat, even if Azriel wasn’t around to heal me. What was a ruined hand when it came to saving a friend’s life?

“Next time it may not make a difference.” He took a deep breath, then blew it out. It was a heavy, frustrated sound. “I guess I’d better ring Ilianna and tell her what happened.”

“Good idea.” I glanced around the sodden living area. “There doesn’t seem to be much in here worth salvaging.”

“No. But hopefully the bedrooms will be relatively untouched.”

Hopefully. The doors still being closed was a good sign, at least. “You planning to stay the night?”

“Yeah. The fire burned out the security system, so I’ll keep watch until we can get it fixed.” He studied me for a moment. “What about you?”

“I’ve got a key to hunt down, and a deadline to beat.”

He frowned. “What deadline?”

I briefly explained what my father had done, and he swore softly. “Shit, we can’t seem to catch a break, can we? Not from fucking anything.”

“It would certainly appear that way.”

He hesitated, then said, “You can’t do this on your own, Ris. You need help – of the reaper kind.”

“I know.” I’d known it since I’d woken up earlier this morning. It had just taken me a whole lot of angst and arguing with myself to come to the conclusion everyone else had already reached. “I’m just not sure what to say, given the way we parted.”

“It’s simple. You need to explain why you were so angry, and he needs to explain why he did what he did. And then you both need to apologize and move on.” He half smiled. “There’s a world of people who are relying on you both, even if they don’t know it.”

I sighed. “I know. Trust me, I know.”

He placed his hand over mine and squeezed lightly. “You feel hungry? The lamb I was preparing is more than a little overcooked as a result of the fire, but I can wander down the street after I ring Ilianna, and pick up some burgers and coffee.”

“That would be lovely. In the meantime, I might just bite the bullet and contact Azriel.”

“Then I shall take my time getting back. Just in case there’s fireworks.”

“I’m not intending to argue —”

“I wasn’t talking about arguing,” he replied, a cheeky smile touching his lips. He bent and kissed my cheek. “Good luck.”

“Thanks.” I was no doubt going to need it.

Tao left, closing the door behind him. I turned and retreated to my bedroom. I really didn’t want to confront Azriel in the ruins of our living room, just in case, one way or another, things did get heated.

My bedroom had a definite smoky smell, and plenty of water had crept under the door, soaking a good portion of the carpet near the door, but otherwise, everything was as I’d left it. Which meant it was messy – tidy I am not. I grabbed a bunch of towels from my en suite and dropped them over the soaked carpet in the vague hope they would sop up some of the water. Then I walked to the center of the room, my stomach twisting into knots – as much from fear that he wouldn’t respond as from anything else.

I took a deep breath – though it didn’t do a whole lot to calm my nerves – then said mentally, Rephael, we need to talk.

Rephael was Azriel’s real name, a name known and used only by those very close to him. Which meant I couldn’t say it out loud simply because, in the reaper world, names were a thing of power, and knowing someone’s true name gave you a measure of control over them. That he’d told me meant he not only trusted me, but he cared more than he’d let on. Only I’d been too damn lost in my own misery and anger to even realize it.

For several minutes, nothing happened. Sweat began to trickle down my back and my heart thumped so fast it felt as if it was about to tear out of my chest. God, what if he didn’t come back? What if he couldn’t? He might have said I only had to say his name and he’d hear me, no matter what he was doing or where he was, but he’d also warned that the powers that be might not allow him to come back once I’d sent him away.

If I had to spend the rest of eternity as a goddamn Mijai, I sure as hell didn’t want to spend it alone. Or with any other reaper, for that matter.

“There would never be another reaper in your life,” he replied quietly. “In that, also, the choice has gone.”

I spun around, a turbulent mix of relief, happiness, and fear surging through me. He appeared near the end of my bed, the electricity of his presence playing gently through my being, a sensation as intimate as the caress of fingers against skin. Longing shivered through me, but the fear sharpened. There was nothing, absolutely nothing, in his expression, and not even the slightest whisper of warmth in the mental line between us. There was no sign whatsoever that he was, in any way, happy to see me.

I swallowed heavily, but it did little to ease the sudden dryness in my throat. “Thank you for coming.”

“It is not as though I had any other choice, given you used my name.” He crossed his arms, an action that not only emphasized the muscles in his arms and shoulders, but brought into stark relief the jagged pink scar that now marred his left arm.

My fault, I thought, feeling sick. I’d sent him away, not only disgracing him but ensuring punishment in the form of being ordered into the battle being waged against escaping demons at hell’s second gate. I swept my gaze over the rest of him, searching for other signs of injury. His face – which was chiseled, almost classical in its beauty, but now possessing an even harder edge than before – was untouched. But his well-defined torso bore a new scar, one that ran from the left edge of his belly button and up under his arm, slashing through the middle of the stylized black wing tattoo that swept around from his spine, the tips brushing across the front side of his neck.

Only it wasn’t a tat. It was a Dušan – a darker, more stylized brother to the lilac one that resided on my left arm – and had been designed to protect us when we walked the gray fields. That the scar swept through the middle of the Dušan suggested that perhaps it, too, was battle scarred.

My gaze rose to his again. His blue eyes – one as vivid and bright as a sapphire, the other as dark as a storm-driven sea – gave as little away as his expression.

“Azriel, we need to talk —”

“So you said,” he interrupted coolly. “About what? I was under the impression you had no desire to see me again, let alone talk to me.”

Anger slipped through me, brief and sharp. It wasn’t like he was the only injured party here… I took a deep breath, and thrust the thought away. Calm, cool, rational. That’s what I had to remain. It was acting in anger that had gotten me into this mess in the first place.

Well, that and his actions.

“Look, I understand why you pulled me back from death. Your mission —”

“Was only part of the reason,” he cut in. There was a flicker of either fury or frustration in his eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. But a muscle along the side of his jaw pulsed, a sure sign of annoyance.

I took a deep breath and plowed on regardless. “The mission to reclaim the keys has always been first and foremost in your thoughts, and your actions have always reflected this. I should not have reacted as I did, in anger and sorrow.”

He didn’t say anything, just continued to regard me steadily.

I took another deep, steadying breath. It still wasn’t helping. “So, I apologize for reacting as I did, and for sending you away.”

“But?” It was practically growled.

“But,” I added, “I think you owe me both an apology and an explanation. Not only did your actions rob me of all my future lives, but given I am the only one who can find the keys here on Earth, my death would have meant they’d remain unfound. Both our worlds would have been safe, Azriel, and isn’t that what we’re both trying to achieve?”

“The problem,” he said, voice flinty, “is that your death would not have meant the keys were safe. If I hadn’t reacted as I did, the Raziq – and in particular, Malin – would have called you back from the path of light and, in doing so, would have had control over both you and your actions.”

I frowned. “But if my body was dead and my soul had reached heaven —”

“It would not have mattered,” he cut in. “The Aedh could have not only forced you back into this world, but into the flesh of another. It is your being, your soul, that is vital to finding the keys. The outer layer does not matter.”

“Then why couldn’t my father have just claimed another body and found the keys himself?”

“Because souls cannot be transferred at will. It can only occur at death.”

“Then why didn’t the Raziq just kill me? Wouldn’t that have been easier for them?”

“They would not have done it unless there was little other choice. And they also know I would have killed you had they chosen such a path. Once dead a second time, your soul would have become one of the lost ones – inaccessible to both them and us.”

A ghost, I thought with a shiver. At least I’d been saved from that. “So why is what you’ve done so very different?”

“Because I merged our beings rather than just pulling you back. It made you more. Made you what I am.”

“But in the process, made you less.” Because he could never again become a soul guide. He would remain a Mijai for the rest of eternity.

“I am well aware of the price,” he replied coldly. “But I had no choice – and no desire – to do otherwise.”

It was a statement that could have meant anything, but even so, something inside me leapt in hope. “So this is what you meant when you said that death was not the answer?”

“Yes.”

“Then why the fuck,” I practically exploded, “didn’t you explain that to me at the time? Why keep something like that secret? If I’d known —”

“Would telling you have made you any less angry at my actions?”

“No, but I wouldn’t have banished you.” My gaze dropped briefly to his scars, and my stomach twisted again. “And you wouldn’t have been hurt.”

He made a short, sharp movement with his hand. “It is the price I paid for foolishness.”

I frowned. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means, I was foolish enough to believe you trusted me,” he bit back, and there was no holding back his anger this time. It was evident in his voice, and it blistered through the link, strong enough that I took a step back in surprise. “Foolish enough to believe you would understand why I would never harm you.”

“But I do trust you —”

“No, you do not,” he cut in again. “Always, in everything I do, you search for a motive.”

“Because there always has been one!” My voice rose again, but I couldn’t help it. “You, the Raziq, my father, Hunter – hell, even Jak – every one of you came into my life wanting something from me. It was not about me. It was never just about me.”

“You know that was not the case with the two of us. Not in the end.”

“And how would I know that, Azriel? You fought our relationship until the bitter end and, even then, only gave in because you needed to recharge so you could heal me.”

“Because I could not bear to see you hurt like that again. It would kill me.”

His words sung through me. He might never come out and say he loved me – hell, for all I knew there was no reaper equivalent of love – but he’d finally acknowledged that he cared, deeply, and that was really all that mattered right now.

But it didn’t erase any of the problems that stood between us. The barrier of being from different worlds might now have disintegrated because of his actions, but that didn’t lessen any of the other problems. Quite the opposite, in fact.

“And you not being completely honest is killing me,” I said softly. “There’s been too many secrets and half-truths between us, Azriel. If we’re to have any hope of a long-lasting relationship, then that has to stop.”

He studied me for a moment, his expression as still as ever save for that muscle along his jawline. And it spoke volumes. “And this is what you wish? A long-lasting relationship?”

“I don’t know if it’s possible, Azriel. There’s more to our differences than just physiology.” I hesitated, and gave him a twisted half smile. “But yeah, I’d like to at least see if this thing between us could become permanent.”

“Why?” His voice was still harsh. Unforgiving. And yet, just for an instant, a turbulent mix of joy and fear surged down the link, briefly threatening to fry my mind. “Do you wish it because we are now tied through eternity and you have little other choice? Or is it merely for the sake of our son that you desire it?”

Shock coursed through me and for a moment I could do nothing more than stare at him. Then I licked my lips and said, a little hoarsely, “Our son? We’re going to have a son?”

He smiled. It was like sunshine breaking through storm clouds, and it bathed me in a heat that echoed through every part of me. “Yes. I felt his resonance when I pulled your soul back from the brink of death.”

I stared at him for a moment longer, then threw myself across the distance that divided us. His arms came around me, his hug fierce, as if he never intended to let me go again.

“You have no idea how ridiculously happy that makes me.” I pulled back a little, my gaze searching his. “But to answer your question, I don’t want a relationship because I’m stuck with you or because I carry our child. I want a relationship because I woke up this morning and realized I might just damn well love you, despite your being one of the most pigheaded, stubborn, and downright frustrating beings I’ve ever known.”

He took a deep, shuddering breath, and slowly released it. He skimmed my cheek, then my lips, leaving them tingling with warmth as he tucked his fingers under my chin and gently tilted it upward. “Those words are a music I never thought I’d hear.”

Then he kissed me. Softly, sweetly, tenderly. And there was so much warmth and caring swirling through the link it felt like I was drowning. But oh, what a way to go.

The kiss, however, ended far too swiftly for my liking. I growled softly, and he half smiled. “I know, and I’m sorry, but we still have a problem.”

“And what might that be?”

“I am no longer the Mijai assigned to this case. My task now lies with defending the gates, rather than you.”

I frowned. “Even though I carry your child?”

“It is my duty, not my desire. Believe that.”

“Well, duty can fuck off. And so can the powers that be. I want you guarding me, and no one else.”

“It is not that easy —”

“It is that easy,” I bit back. “Or they can forget any fucking hope of me giving them the keys.”

He was silent, his gaze suddenly distant, distracted. After a moment, he said quietly, “The powers that be suggest withholding the keys from them would not be wise.”

My heart just about stopped. “They’re listening in to our conversation?”

“Of course. You are now Mijai to-be, so discussions of importance, such as this, will always be monitored.”

Celestial eavesdropping. Just what we needed. I shrugged, a casual movement that belied the tension riding me. “What’s the worst they can do? Kill me again?”

“It would bring you under their control more fully,” he said. “You will, after all, become Mijai after your next death.”

“Which means squat. It’s not like they can go all autocratic on my ass and force me to do their bidding, is it?” I hesitated, frowning suddenly. “Is it?”

“No, that is not their way. They can, however, make life rather unpleasant.”

My gaze dropped briefly to his scars. If they were a result of “unpleasantness,” then it definitely wasn’t something I wanted to face. But I wasn’t about to try to find the other keys without Azriel by my side, either.

“We started this together, we finish it together. End of story, Azriel.” I took a deep breath, then added resolutely, “And if they don’t like it, then hey, they can do their worst. As I told my dad this morning, I’ve been dead, and I’ve had all my future lives ripped away from me. There’s nothing much more they can do, except take you away from me. And that will only achieve the exact opposite of what they want.”

His expression went all distracted again. I waited – though I wouldn’t say patiently – and eventually he said, “They will accede to your wishes. However, they are less than happy.”

I snorted. “Like I really care.”

“You might when you become Mijai. They have long memories.”

“And we have a whole lot of shit to face and survive before we ever get to that point.” I hesitated. “If I die, I become Mijai. What happens if you die?”

“Reapers, like Aedh, are extremely long-lived, but we are not immortal. If I die, then I will become just another celestial star awaiting rebirth.”

“So reapers don’t move through heaven and hell gates like the rest of us?”

“No. We are energy, and we return to the cosmos that gave birth to us.”

Huh. “Then I guess you’d better make sure you don’t get dead, then.”

“That would be my plan also,” he said, voice solemn, but with a smile touching his lips. He gently tucked a stray hair behind my ears. “Tao returns, and you need to eat.”

Eating wasn’t what I wanted to be doing right now. Not when Azriel and the bed were in such close proximity. But the hours of life Mirri had left were steadily counting down, and it would be selfish to waste even ten minutes of it.

“Ten minutes,” Azriel commented, placing his hand against the base of my spine and ushering me toward the door, “is hardly enough time to warm up, let alone do justice to our lovemaking.”

“You obviously have never experienced the benefits of a quickie,” I said, amused.

“No, but if we survive this, then perhaps I might.”

“If we survive this, I’ll make sure that you do.”

Tao was standing in the middle of the living room, a brown paper McDonald’s bag in each hand. “Not sure where to put these. The sofas are sodden and the dining chairs are a write-off.”

“We can sit on the table.” Which had, surprisingly, survived pretty much unscathed, despite its close proximity to the kitchen. But then, it was made from aluminosilicate glass, and therefore had a higher melt point.

He nodded almost absently and, as I drew closer, the heat radiating off him caused pinpricks of sweat to roll across my skin. Shit. The elemental was threatening his control again.

I stopped beside him and gently touched his arm. He jumped; then his gaze swung to mine. Just for a moment, his brown eyes were consumed by fire; then he swallowed heavily and the danger retreated.

“I’m okay,” he said softly. More to convince himself, I suspected, than me. His gaze slipped past me. “Azriel, glad you made it back.”

“So am I,” Azriel replied.

Tao handed me one of the bags. Inside were a couple of Angus burgers with bacon and cheese, as well as a large fries. I parked my butt on the table and happily munched them down. Tao didn’t join me, but walked around as he ate. It was almost as if he was afraid to stand still. Afraid the monster inside would seize control again if he did.

My phone rang just as I was working my way through the fries, and the tone – a somber funeral march – told me instantly who it was.

“Fuck, it’s Hunter. I forgot to ring her earlier.” Mainly because it had totally slipped my mind after coming home to find this place a half-smoldering ruin.

“And she’s only just calling you now?” Tao said. “She must be in a good mood or something, because she was in a proper snit last time she contacted me.”

“And Hunter in a snit is something I really don’t want to face – even if only on a phone.”

“If you don’t answer it,” Azriel said, “it will only antagonize her further. That would not be wise.”

No, it wouldn’t. I made to jump off the table, but Azriel motioned me to stay, then disappeared. A heartbeat later, he returned and handed me my vid-phone. I hit the Answer button and Hunter’s image appeared on the screen. Her face held no expression, but her green eyes promised death.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you sooner,” I said, before she could say anything. “But things have been kind of crazy —”

“I do not care about your current problems,” she cut in, her voice so devoid of life it sent chills down my spine. “And you certainly will be sorry. I have warned you, Risa, about the consequences of inaction.”

Fear chased the chills down my spine. I swallowed heavily, trying to ease the sudden dryness in my throat, and croaked, “What do you mean?”

“You know full well what I mean,” she replied, still in that same emotionless tone. “I’m sick not only of your manner and attitude, but of the delays when it comes to the keys. I had hoped my actions with the Jorõgumo would convince you of the need to take me seriously, but it appears that is not the case.”

The Jorõgumo had been a spider spirit stupid enough to kill Hunter’s lover. She’d tasked us with tracking it down and, when we had, she’d proceeded to kill it – by consuming it. Flesh, blood, and soul.

It had been a horrifying demonstration of just what Hunter was capable of – and how far she would go to get what she wanted.

“For fuck’s sake,” I all but exploded, despite the fact I knew anger wasn’t the best option right now, “you’re not the only one after the keys, and the others are not only not of this world, but they can do a hell of a lot more damage —”

“Perhaps,” she cut in coldly, “but I am the one who lives in this world, and I am the one in close proximity to all that you love. Only there is now one less to love.”

And with that, she was gone.

Leaving me to suddenly wonder who the hell she’d killed.