Darkness Splintered

Chapter 8

Fury swept through me and the plane responded instantly; shadows crowded close and the very air began to vibrate ominously.

I flexed imaginary fingers and tried to calm down. Getting angry in a place that reacted to your every thought and emotion was damnably dangerous.

What the fuck are you playing at, Markel? I glared at him. So much for attempting to calm down. If you were following me the day I went to Hallowed Ground, you know full well I want nothing to do with this man’s schemes.

I said as much to Harry, Markel replied, voice even and expression unperturbed. But he insisted.

“Harry,” not “Stanford.” Suggesting he and Stanford were, at the very least, well known to each other.

I snorted. And a Cazador has no other choice but to give in to a nightclub manager?

When that manager is not only a trusted friend, but a former Cazador himself, then yes, I do.

My gaze shot to Stanford, who was regarding me neutrally. He was a dark-haired, dark-skinned man of indefinable age, with incandescent green eyes that glowed with an unearthly fire here on the astral plane. That he was a former Cazador certainly explained the sense of danger I’d gotten the last time I’d been in his presence.

If you’re a damn Cazador, I hardly think you’d need my help to take the bitch out.

A smiled teased the corners of his lips, but barely reached his bright eyes. You’ve now seen what Hunter is capable of. Do you really think one lone Cazador is capable of beating her?

The only way he could know I’d witnessed Hunter’s full capabilities was if Markel had told him. And that meant Markel was more than just a messenger.

But you’re not one lone Cazador, are you? I waved a hand in Markel’s direction. That he’s here very much suggests he’s on your side.

Harry definitely isn’t alone in his desire to rid the council of the stain that is Hunter. Markel’s mind voice held a touch of grimness. But she is also by no means alone. Too many vampires fear her, and will never risk going up against her.

So, I commented, the majority of council members – many of whom are hundreds of years old and very dangerous in their own right – fear to cross Hunter. And yet you’re expecting me to?

Brought down to basics, that’s precisely what we’re expecting, Stanford said. She’s now killed a former lover of yours. How many more of your loved ones will have to die before you realize she will never get her hooks out of you? She owns you, Risa, for as long as you have people you care about.

She won’t kill any more of my friends. She’s not that stupid.

If you honestly believe that, Markel commented, then you are the one who is stupid.

I wasn’t stupid. I knew it was more than a possibility, but it was one I wasn’t about to admit to in front of these two men. If I acknowledged their point, it would somehow feel like I was giving ground. And are the Cazadors behind this coup attempt?

Again he hesitated. No. Not all of them.

What about the other two who follow me about? Do they side with you, or with Hunter? Or are they the reason we’re meeting here?

We meet here because it is safer for us all. Hunter cannot astral travel.

Meaning there was something the bitch couldn’t do? Amazing. That still doesn’t answer the question about my other followers.

They are not among Hunter’s supporters, he said, but neither do they side with us. They do not, in fact, know I support Harry. If they did, they would report it to Hunter, just as they would if they knew of this meeting.

Then I guess I had to be glad they didn’t know about it. It also meant I had to be damn careful about what I said out loud from now on. I returned my gaze to Stanford. None of this changes the fact that I have no intention of helping you.

And if Hunter attacks more of your friends?

I’ll deal with it when it happens. But would I? Could I? As much as I hated Hunter, as much as I’d love to see her dead for what she’d done to Jak, I very much doubted I could ever win a fight against her. And even though I knew Azriel would take the witch out if given half the chance, he could do so only if she attacked me. She wasn’t stupid enough to do that, either. Besides, he’d made no secret of his desire to kill her – not even from her. She no doubt had plans – and protections – put in place for such an eventuality.

Stanford continued to regard me steadily, and there was something in his eyes that made me think he was neither surprised by my answers nor in any way put off by them.

Which made him very much like Hunter in some respects. The question was, just how far would he go to get what he wanted?

When she kills again – and she will kill again, trust me on that – we will be here, ready to discuss our plans further. His tone was still even, still unperturbed. Trepidation skittered down my spine. Its cause wasn’t so much fear of him or his plans, but rather his certainty that Hunter hadn’t finished her bloodshed just yet. But you should know now that we do not expect you to go up against her alone and unprepared.

Well that’s mighty big of you. I frowned. What do you mean by unprepared?

He half shrugged. There are means of – nullifying, shall we say – the more terrifying aspects of what Hunter has become.

And what, exactly, has she become? You never did explain that.

She is a Maenad, he said, and a follower of the Greek wine god Dionysus, who can on one hand bring joy and divine ecstasy to those who come in contact with him, and on the other brutal, unthinking rage.

While I was absolutely positive Hunter didn’t even know the meaning of joy, the brutal, unthinking rage certainly fit.

Stanford continued. In ancient times, Maenads roamed the mountains and forests during what was known as the orgiastic rites of Dionysus, and often tore apart and devoured any animal or human who came in contact with them. Hunter still performs those rites today, although there are none alive who could confirm it.

Does that mean she became a Maenad before she became a vampire?

Yes. The followers of Dionysus have no gain when it comes to life span.

But when you became a vampire, you certainly did. I studied him for a second, then said, If there’s no witnesses left alive, how do you know she’s still a practicing Maenad?

Because when you are touched by the magic of a god, as the Maenads are, it is not something you can cast aside.

So Hunter was imbued by the spirit of a god and warped because of it. I guess that made about as much sense as anything else right now.

How do you plan to stop her doing to me what she did to that spider spirit?

By trapping her in a place that breaks the connection to her god, thereby restraining what she is able to do in his name.

Which really didn’t tell me a lot. If you’re able to do that, why not do it now and take her out yourselves? Why do you need me involved?

Because, Markel said gravely, such a death goes against the council’s rules of hierarchy and challenges, and they would be honor bound to kill us.

Meaning what? That to kill Hunter you have to formally challenge her?

Yes, Stanford said. Such challenges must be performed in front of chosen witnesses, so that they can confirm the legitimacy of both the fight and the kill. As a fully functioning Maenad with the power of a god behind her, Hunter would wipe the floor with either myself or Markel. It is the reason she has retained her position as long as she has.

Then make sure the fight happens someplace she can’t use her powers.

It is not that simple, Markel commented. The place has to be council sanctioned, and will be guarded against any form of interference. Restricting Hunter’s Maenad nature would be seen as such.

Trust fucking vampires to make the whole stepping-up-the-ladder scenario so damn complicated.

If she’s so damn powerful, why hasn’t she tried a takeover of the high council before now?

Because as much as the majority fear her, she is aware that fear alone is not enough. She may be powerful, but the weight of numbers can overwhelm even the strongest. Stanford paused, and half shrugged. The movement spun small eddies through the astral plane near him. She has never been a fool, no matter what else she might be. But with these keys in her hand, she has hell itself behind her.

I snorted. Not even Hunter could control hell.

I never said she could control it. The threat of unleashing it – of making a hell here on Earth – would be enough. There are few who would risk such a thing.

There were at least two people I knew of who could and would risk it. Unfortunately for everyone, they were the ones who currently had both gate keys.

Look, as much as I sympathize with your desire to kill her, there’s no way in hell I’m about to be the bait in any trap to snare Hunter.

Both men studied me for a moment, then Stanford nodded. As you wish. However, if you change your mind – and I fear that you will be forced to – then you know where to find me. Or Markel.

I wouldn’t bet the blood bank on it, I replied grimly.

I only ever bet when I’m sure of a win. Stanford didn’t seem too perturbed by my refusal to fall in line with his plans, and that made me more than a little nervous. I doubted he was the type to give up easily. He added, In this case, I certainly would bet the bank – blood or otherwise.

He bowed – an old-fashioned but elegant movement – then disappeared. Swirls of gray were the only indication that anyone had ever stood there. I glanced at Markel. You should have known this would be a waste of time. You’ve been following me around long enough to get some sense of how I’d respond.

He shrugged. Reminding you of your options – and the fact we can and would do our best to make it a more even fight – can never be considered a waste of time.

Give me an army at my back and I might consider it. But one-on-one? No fucking way.

You would hardly be alone given the reaper rarely leaves your side.

And you think Hunter wouldn’t be canny enough to have a means to nullify his presence? Magic can restrain him, Markel, and I’m betting Hunter has been around long enough to know such a spell.

More than likely. He hesitated. However, if you have no intention of ever going up against her, then do nothing more to antagonize her. She walks a knife edge of sanity at the moment.

If you know this, the fucking council must. Why won’t they do something about her? Surely if they ganged up on the bitch they could defeat her.

As Harry said, we are bound by rules and conventions. It is not that simple.

I snorted. And do you think Hunter plays by the rules? Or even cares about them?

Perhaps not, but if we play her game, then we are no better than her. And she is not without her supporters. He hesitated. Be wary of what you say. We hear every word here on the plane. You would not want her other followers to realize anything untoward has happened.

I know. I studied him grimly for a moment. What happens if they do suspect anything?

Then I will have to take care of them.

Kill them, you mean.

He shrugged. There is little other choice. Besides, it is what I do.

But won’t it alert Hunter that something has happened?

If an astral traveler is killed on the plane, then they die here on Earth. It would not be the first time such a death happened, and I daresay it will not be the last. It is a risk we all take when traveling.

That didn’t actually answer the question.

Yes, she will suspect and more than likely question me. But she has no reason to question the loyalty of the Cazadors, and she will not suspect my involvement.

No, she’d suspect me.

Perhaps, but we work twelve-hour rotating shifts. If the kill is timed right, it would be at least ten hours before the body was discovered. The plane is an ever-shifting environment. There would be no evidence left to find.

There’d be a ghost. Ghosts can be questioned.

It would be a fragmented ghost, and insane. They would get no information from it.

I frowned. What the hell is a fragmented ghost?

It happens when the part of the soul that walks the field is killed. The traveler not only dies in flesh as well as spirit, but it sends the remainder of their soul mad. It is the source of the ghosts who wail. They can do little else. He bowed slightly. Until next we meet.

And with that, he disappeared. I shook my head and imagined myself back in my body. I whooshed back quickly – a little too quickly, as it turned out. My eyes sprung open as I gasped in shock.

“Whoa,” I said, swallowing heavily as my stomach leapt up into my throat. “Forgot all about the side effects of doing that.”

The bed dipped as Azriel sat beside me and held out a can of Coke. “Would this help?”

“If I was a normal person, no it wouldn’t.” I pushed upright, and ignored my rebellious stomach as I accepted the Coke. “I, however, happen to have this stuff running through my veins.”

He smiled. “And here I was thinking it was junk food that fueled you.”

“Speaking of which, where’s the pizza? If I don’t eat it, you’ll nag me.”

He nodded toward the bedside table, then added, “What did Markel want?”

“He was basically warning me to get a move on with the keys.” I leaned sideways and snagged a thick slice of pizza, then, just in case one of my astral watchers was near, silently added, And playing middleman for Stanford. It doesn’t take a genius to guess what he wanted.

You said no?

Of course. Just because I sometimes choose to ignore consequences doesn’t mean I’m not aware of them. I munched on the pizza and added, And I think the consequence of me going up against Hunter would be me getting dead.

Death in this form, maybe, but you would live on in energy form.

Sorry Azriel, but that’s not something I want right now. Especially given it meant me becoming a Mijai. I frowned. If I did happen to die, what happens to our child? Would he die, or would he also become energy?

He would also become Mijai – although obviously not a serving one. Not until he reached maturity.

So by saving me, you condemned our son to a life you hate?

Yes. His gaze met mine, blue eyes hard. Better the life of a Mijai than no life, Risa.

It would have been better to have left things as they were meant to be – both of us dead. But then, if the Raziq had the power to call my soul back into this world, what was to stop them doing the same to my son? I might not agree with what Azriel had done, but I could certainly understand his reasons. Now that he’d actually explained them, that is.

I snagged another piece of pizza. “So, I guess the next thing we have to do is go see if we can get into that warehouse near Stane’s.”

“And if we can’t?”

“Then unless dear old Dad comes through with a key to get into his quarters in the temples, I’m fresh out of ideas.”

He studied me for a moment, then said, “What of your uncle?”

I frowned. “What of him?”

“Did he not study to become a priest?”

My confusion grew. “Yes, but that’s not going to help us get into my father’s quarters.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Azriel replied. “But it is very rare for a half Aedh to undergo priest training, and that alone suggests he’s more than likely extremely powerful.”

Which was something I’d never really thought about before. I mean, sure, I knew he’d undergone training, but it had never struck me to ask why a half-breed had even been allowed near the temples. Unless, of course, the priests were in short supply even back then.

“Powerful or not, from what my father said, we won’t be getting into his and Lucian’s quarters without some sort of access code.” I finished the slice of pizza and licked a few cheese remnants off my fingers. “Besides, we don’t need Uncle Quinn to get into the temples. You can do that, can’t you?”

“I can, yes, but it is unlikely I would be able to access the inner sanctums, and that is no doubt where your father’s quarters are. Only the initiates are quartered in the outer rings, and we Mijai rarely have need to go any farther.”

So once again my father hadn’t been completely honest. What a surprise. “I really don’t want to involve Uncle Quinn, if only because it’ll drag Riley into the equation.”

“Your uncle is more than capable of keeping information from your aunt,” Azriel commented. “He is Aedh as much as vampire, remember.”

“Yeah, but she’s one hell of a telepath.” And she could spot someone keeping a secret a mile away. How the hell I’d managed to keep the fact I was working for Hunter to myself for so long, I’ll never know.

Of course, it did help that I’d recently missed our weekly cake and Coke catch-up sessions. If I hadn’t, I’d probably be locked up somewhere right now while she gathered the troops and took off after Hunter.

“I still think you should talk to him,” Azriel said. “He might also be able to offer suggestions when it comes to Hunter and Stanford.”

“Maybe.” I drained the can of Coke, smothered a loud burp, then added, “Let’s go check out that warehouse first. If we have no luck there, I’ll consider talking to Uncle Quinn.”

Azriel nodded, then rose and held out a hand. I placed my fingers in his and he tugged me upward. I grabbed my coat, then locked the front door and once again melted into the warmth of his arms. A heartbeat later we were outside the old West Street warehouse that contained the first of the cuneiform stones we’d found.

It was one of those old two-story, redbrick places inner-city renovators seemed to love. The wind rattled the rusted iron roof and whistled through the small, regularly spaced windows, many of which were broken, but overall it was in pretty good shape. Like many of the other buildings in the area, its walls were littered with graffiti and tags, and rubbish lay in drifting piles along its length.

But while it looked abandoned, there was an odd, almost watchful stillness about the place. It was a stillness that seemed to affect the immediate surrounds, which were unnervingly quiet. Even the roar of the traffic traveling along nearby Smith Street seemed muted.

I shivered, despite the heat rolling off the man standing so close. “Can you sense anything or anyone in or near the warehouse?”

He shook his head and pressed his fingers against my spine, ushering me forward. “Nothing but rats.”

“Just like last time,” I murmured. And I had to hope it was a case of second time lucky when it came to this place. I really didn’t fancy falling into a pit and I certainly didn’t want to confront more damn hellhounds.

There were two entrances here on West Street. The first one was heavily padlocked and seemed to lead into an old office area. The other was a roller door over what had once been a loading bay, and this was where we’d gotten in previously. I glanced down at the bottom-right-hand edge. Someone had obviously tried to fix the hole, because it was far smaller than it used to be. But there was still a section that provided just enough of a gap for a skinny person – which I certainly was these days – to get in.

“The real question here,” Azriel said, “is whether you’ll be able to get in this time.”

“And if I can, do I really want to?” I rubbed my arms, but it didn’t do much to chase away the gathering chill. “I haven’t even got Jak to shore up my courage this time.”

“No,” he said softly. “But you could destroy the wards. That would allow me entry.”

“And no doubt notify the sorcerer that we’ve found this place.”

“True. But I suspect that – sooner rather than later – we’re going to have to do that if we wish to find their gateway onto the field.”

I stopped in front of the door and scanned it for any additional signs of security, electronic or otherwise. “That’s if it is here. There’s no guarantee of that.”

“It has to be here somewhere, if only because of its proximity to the intersection.” He paused, then added, “I can sense no magic other than the shield.”

And I couldn’t sense anything. I took a deep, somewhat quivering breath, but it didn’t do a lot to ease the growing tide of tension. “Wish me luck.”

“I wish you safety,” he replied. “As you have noted on numerous occasions, luck is a bitch who seems to have abandoned us.”

Laughter bubbled through me as my gaze shot to his. “Azriel! Did you just swear?”

He raised his eyebrows, his expression bemused, though amusement danced in his bright eyes. “Is not a bitch a female dog? How is that swearing?”

I grinned, knowing he was teasing and trying to lighten my mood. I leaned forward and kissed him. “Thank you,” I murmured, my lips so close to his I could taste every breath.

“You are most welcome.” He gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “Just be careful in there.”

“I will.” I stepped away from the warmth of his touch, then took another of those deep breaths that did little to calm the butterflies, and stepped toward the roller door.

Energy skittered across my skin, the sensation sharp and unpleasant. I ignored it and got down on my hands and knees to squeeze through the small hole. The sensation increased, until it felt as if I was being swarmed by sand flies. My skin twitched and crawled, and I had to bite my lip against the desire to back out. However unpleasant the sensation was, it wasn’t actually stopping me. I guess that was something I had to be thankful for, even if I really didn’t want to enter this place alone.

Once inside, I stood up, dusting off my hands as I stepped away from the door. The stinging sensation eased immediately.

“I’m in,” I said, rather unnecessarily.

“Can you see or sense anything?”

I looked around. The light that filtered in through the grimy windows highlighted the dust and rubbish lying in drifting piles along the loading bay’s ramp. Three doors led off the platform that ran around the sides of the dock, and there were stairs down at the far end that led up to them. I could neither see nor smell anything or anyone out of the ordinary, but I hadn’t last time, either. But there was something here – something that crawled along the edges of my psychic senses.

Magic.

“They haven’t abandoned this place, that’s one certainty.” I drew Amaya. Flames rippled down her sides, casting a lilac glow across the nearby concrete.

“If this is where they hide the gateway onto the fields, it would be highly illogical for them to do so,” he said. “But they will more than likely have added additional security. Tread warily.”

“I did that last time, and still fell through the goddamn floor.”

“So this time don’t ignore intuition when it suggests something is wrong.”

“That would be totally logical, and you know I don’t always work that way.”

“Unfortunately, that is very true.” His voice was wry, and I smiled as I cautiously moved up the ramp. The last time we’d been here, Jak and I had chosen the middle door of the three that were situated on this upper level, and had subsequently triggered a trap. Maybe a change of entry point would change my luck.

I stopped at the first door and scanned it for anything out of place. It was one of those half-glass doors, but enough paint had peeled off the lower section that the grime had stained the wood almost black. There didn’t appear to be any sort of security – magic or otherwise – so I reached for the door handle. The damn thing was locked. Which wasn’t surprising if they wanted to direct all traffic to the middle door. But having sprung that trap once, I wasn’t about to go there again.

I bent and peered at the lock. It looked solid enough, but the same could not be said about the frame. It very much looked as if sometime in the past, someone had kicked this door good and hard and had taken some of the frame with it. And though it had been patched, I suspected it wouldn’t take much to force it open again. I clenched my hand and gave the door a thump. It sprung open instantly. I caught the edge before it could smash back against the wall, then closed it again, making sure it still looked locked.

The room itself had obviously been a small office, though it held nothing more than the remnants of a whiteboard, a broken office chair, and strings of dusty cobwebs. I moved on. The next door wasn’t locked, and it led into a room that was long and dark. Given there was no wall to my left, it also had to be the same room that held the trapdoor into the pit. I glanced down sharply, seeing bare concrete rather than wooden flooring, but didn’t immediately move. The uneasy sensation of magic crawled around me, and I wasn’t about to ignore it.

“Amaya, flare brighter.”

She did so. Her flames revealed the room was twice the size I’d imagined. The roof soared high above me, snaked with metal lines and some sort of conveyer system. Several small offices sat on the right-hand side of the building, and the concrete was stained with rust lines and grime, reminders of machines that had once stood here. To the left, there was that large square of wooden flooring Jak and I had fallen through the first time. Obviously, whoever had made that trap had repaired it after we’d left.

“Why would they set the trap over only one door?” My voice echoed in the cavernous room and something seemed to stir in the shadows down the far end. Or maybe that was simply imagination and fear.

The stairs are closest to the middle door, so most of those who use them would logically choose that door. Azriel’s voice held a hint of amusement. Why do you ask the question out loud rather than in your thoughts?

“Because I don’t feel so alone.” Which was stupid, because I was.

Not, Amaya grumbled. Am here.

Yeah, but it’s not quite the same hanging on to you as it is Azriel.

Her static filled the far reaches of my mind. I might not understand it, but I was pretty sure she was swearing at me. I ignored her and stepped forward, every muscle tense, ready to jump should the concrete show the slightest inclination to drop out from underneath me. When it didn’t, I took another step. The crawling sensation of magic grew no worse or better. I bit my lip and walked on, moving past the wooden flooring that concealed a trap and into the warehouse proper. Though I scanned high and low, I couldn’t see anything that suggested this place had been recently used in any way.

I checked out the offices to the right, but didn’t find anything more than rubbish – although in the last one there was a large rat’s nest. It had been made with shredded paper, odd strips of material and wiring, and what creepily looked like human hair. Hair that was dark and long.

I wondered if it had come from someone who’d stumbled into the pit and, unlike us, hadn’t been able to escape.

I shivered, but let the rats be and continued on. I was about halfway down when I felt it.

Not magic, but something else. Air stirred the hairs on the back of my neck, cool and almost otherworldly, sending goose bumps skittering across my skin. I stopped, my grip tightening on Amaya.

There was nothing here. Nothing but shadows in the far reaches of the building where Amaya’s flames did not reach.

I glanced toward the street. Several windows had been broken along this section, so it was logical that the air would stir. The wind might be light outside, but it was nevertheless there, and it wasn’t about to hurt me. I scanned those shadows again.

Still nothing.

“Azriel, has anything changed? Can you sense anything other than me and the rats in this place?”

No. But if you fear something, retreat. It is not worth the risk.

“I can’t retreat every time I feel threatened,” I muttered. “I’d never get anything fucking done.”

The trouble with that statement, he said, mental tone exasperated, is the fact you haven’t retreated. Not once.

“That’s an exaggeration. I have retreated, and you know it. I’m not that much of a fool.”

What sounded like a mental snort rolled down the line between us. I ignored him and continued on.

The air stirred again, this time whisking behind me, making the small hairs at the nape of my neck stand on end.

Something definitely was here.

I stopped again. Amaya, can you sense anything?

No foe, she said. No fair.

I half smiled, despite the tension running through me. She was obviously feeling a little put out. I mean, it had been hours since she’d killed anything.

Funny not, she muttered.

My smile grew. I walked on, my gaze constantly scanning the walls and the floor, looking for some clue as to what might be here, and whether it was dangerous. I couldn’t see or sense anything untoward. Even the dark caress of magic began to fade as I moved farther from the pit trap, until it was little more than a faint buzz of wrongness that scratched at the far edges of my senses.

As I moved into the end third of the building, the filth and grime began to build. The sludge was thickest where machines had once stood, and it smelled to high heaven. I kept to the center, between the outline of the machines, but even so it was hard not to slip and slide.

Air whisked past me again, and for a moment it felt like someone was trying to grab at my fingers. The fleeting sensation left them tingling. I flexed them and frowned. What the hell was going on? Was it my imagination, or something more?

I stopped again. There really was nothing to see. Nothing but the dirt and the grime and a few rusted remnants of the machines that had once dominated this space. If there was an entrance into the caverns below, then it didn’t appear to be here. The floor looked solid – although given the thickness of the grime, it was certainly possible that there was something here and I just couldn’t see it.

Although I couldn’t see evidence of anyone having walked through this place recently, either, and with the thickness of the muck, surely I would have. My footprints were pretty easy to spot.

Again, air stirred, but this time, ethereal fingers briefly entwined through mine. I yelped and jumped backward instinctively, my heart leaping into my throat even as my fingers burned with the icy touch of the dead.

Shit, I thought, suddenly realizing what was going on. It was a fucking ghost.

Maybe even the ghost of the person whose hair had become a bed for a nest of rats.

I swallowed heavily and tried to calm down. A ghost couldn’t hurt me. Well, maybe it could on the astral plane, but certainly not here on Earth. Besides, it was grabbing at my hand, which suggested it wanted to show me something.

“Okay,” I said softly. “I hear you. What do you want?”

An odd sense of excitement stirred around me, then that cool touch slid across my fingers again and tugged me to the right. Amaya flared brighter as we approached the deeper shadows crowding the corner of the building, but for once, her flames had little impact.

Because there was magic here.

It was faint, little more than a sliver of energy that barely stirred the hairs along my arm, but it was similar in feel to the shield that protected this building and kept Azriel out. And surely that meant there was something here they wanted to protect.

A door into the caverns below, perhaps?

If we were right in our guess that our sorcerers weren’t using any sort of high-level magic to protect their gateway, then perhaps this was the entrance they were using to get to it. As Azriel had noted earlier, it made sense that the gateway was here somewhere, simply because it was so close to the ley-line intersection.

I directed Amaya’s flames toward the floor, but the shadows refused to lift. But just for a moment, the vague outline of something small and round appeared – a stone. And it wasn’t alone, because there was an even fainter shadow sitting next to it. Stones weren’t something you’d expect to find in an old factory warehouse – bricks and roofing tiles maybe, but not stones the color of ink. And that could mean only one thing – there was a stone circle here – one that hid its contents as much as it protected them.

I raised a hand and pressed it closer to the screen of darkness. Energy rippled across my fingertips, its feel sharp and somehow dirty. I bit my lip and pressed harder. It felt like I was fighting glue, and the unclean sensation grew, until it felt like acid gnawed at my skin.

Eventually, I couldn’t stand it, and yanked my hand back. My fingers were red and tiny blisters were beginning to appear along their tips. The magic might not be outwardly evident, but it still was powerful. There was no way in hell I was going to risk stepping into it.

“Well, fuck,” I muttered. “Can nothing go our goddamn way for a change?”

Would it be worth bringing Ilianna here? Azriel said. She’s unraveled the threads of this sorcerer’s magic before. Perhaps she can do the same with this barrier.

“As much as I hate the thought of doing it, it might be our only chance of discovering both the sorcerers and the key before Mirri’s deadline.”

The ghost’s touch trailed across my fingers again. This time, there was a sense of urgency in the sensation.

I frowned and said, “Azriel —” at the exact same time as he said, Risa, hide. Someone just magicked into the building.

I swore. Where?

The office on the other side of the pit trap.

And there was no cover near, and nothing else but those rat-infested offices. I dove into the first one, sending rats scattering just as the far doorway opened. I twisted around, and saw a shadowed figure step out.

Amaya snarled, the sound soft but nevertheless echoing. Shut it, I told her fiercely, and flame out.

She grumbled, but obeyed. The shadow paused and seemed to be looking our way, although it was a little hard to tell given the ink around us. After a moment, he moved on, his stride long and lithe. Shifter, I thought, for no logical reason. He certainly didn’t smell like one – although that didn’t really mean that much in an age of scent-erasing soap. But he obviously didn’t smell me, either, and most shifters would have.

He strode past the pit trap, seemingly headed toward the shadowed corner. He wasn’t the sorcerer – his build was far too short and stocky – but if he was going to use whatever lay hidden by those stones, then he was someone we needed to talk to.

Do it fast, Azriel commented. He may be shorter than you, but he’ll be stronger.

Like I didn’t realize that. The shifter drew closer and tension wound through my limbs, until my legs were quivering with the need to move, to attack. I waited until he’d passed the office in which I’d hidden, then rose and ran after him, as quickly and as silently as I could.

He sensed me and pivoted, lashing out with a booted foot. The blow was so fast it was little more than a blur. I twisted away, and his heel scraped across my hip rather than burying itself in my stomach. I flipped Amaya so that I was holding blade rather than hilt, and swung her hard. The blow caught him high in the forearm and knocked him sideways. He swore, the sound guttural, almost incoherent, but caught his balance all too swiftly and launched at me. I caught a brief glimpse of his features as I spun away, and realized with a sinking sensation exactly what I was dealing with. He wasn’t a shifter, or even a Razan, but rather another of those beings who’d been twisted by magic. He just didn’t feel as wrong as his brethren. Maybe our sorcerer was getting the hang of perverting the souls of others.

I ducked under another leap but this time he anticipated the move, somehow twisting in midair to crash body-first into me. I landed on my back with a grunt, briefly winded, my arms and legs tangled in his. I swore, pulled an arm free, and chopped down with Amaya. Her hilt smashed into his shoulder and something cracked. He howled, the sound one of fury and pain combined, and lashed out with an elbow. The blow struck my chin hard enough to rattle teeth, and for a moment I saw stars.

Amaya hissed in fury, a sound I could only echo. I bucked, trying to get him off me, but I might as well have tried moving a ton of bricks. He laughed and grabbed at my arms, managing to pin one to the grimy concrete, his breath thick and fetid as it washed across my face. He may not have smelled bad on the outside, but he was definitely rotting inside.

I bucked again, this time lifting him high enough to get my knees under him. I thrust him up and over my head, then scrambled to my feet and lunged toward him. Though still on the ground, he spun, one leg sweeping out, trying to hook mine. I leapt over it and landed, knees first, in the middle of his gut. As air exploded from his lungs, I smashed my fist into his chin with as much force as I could muster. His head snapped sideways and his body went limp. He was out cold.

I blew out a relieved breath, but didn’t immediately climb to my feet. Azriel, can you read him from a distance?

Normally yes, but this creature’s soul and mind have been twisted by magic. I need contact.

Meaning I have to carry him out? Bummer.

It’s not far.

Says the man who doesn’t have to carry him, I grumbled.

You could drag him.

Not if we want any hope of our presence here to remain unknown. The fucking floor is full of grease and muck. And while my footprints would undoubtedly show, at least there was a chance of them not catching anyone’s eye, given that the twisted shifter and who knows what else came through here.

I rose, grabbed the shifter’s hands, then hauled him to his feet with a grunt of effort. After draping his arms around my neck, I knelt in front of him and let his body fall over my shoulder and back. Then I lifted him, holding on to one arm and leg to keep him in place. That done, I turned and headed for the exit.

It felt like I’d run a fucking marathon by the time I reached the loading bay. The shifter might not have been overly tall, but he was thick and muscular, and weighed a goddamn ton. I eased him from my shoulder, then propped him against the roller door and sucked in great gulps of air. When the trembling in my muscles finally eased, I shifted my grip to his arm and let him drop sideways. And, in the process, just about ripped his arm out of its socket. Not that that particularly worried me.

I shoved his upper body through the hole in the roller door, and Azriel dragged the rest of him out. I followed, relieved to be in fresh air again.

I studied the street, making sure no one was paying any particular attention to what we were doing, then knelt on the other side of the prone form. “So, can you read him?”

“Wait.” Azriel closed his eyes and placed two fingers lightly against the shifter’s high forehead. After several moments of silence, he shook his head and glanced at me. “The shifter’s mind is a maze of magic and blocks, and it feels like the work of the Aedh. It has not the feel of dark magic.”

I frowned. “But Lucian’s dead —”

“Yes,” he cut in. “But these creatures were more than likely created by our sorceress while he lived, and the Aedh was more than a little aware of my abilities. He ensured I could not get information from this mind.”

“So I carried this bastard out here for nothing?”

He smiled. “The Aedh was not as clever as he liked to think. There is more than one way to get information from a mind.”

With that, he placed his hands on either side of the shifter’s head and closed his eyes. Almost instantly Valdis’s sides began to glow, showering the immediate darkness with blue sparks. Energy surged, its feel sharp and fierce, and in the space between Azriel’s hands pictures began to flow – flickering images that moved so fast they were little more than blurs of color. The last time I’d seen him do this was when he’d tried to capture the lingering memories from a dead man’s mind. This man was very much alive, and perhaps that was why the images were sharper, faster.

I watched in silence, catching an occasional glimpse of Lauren but little else. After a few minutes, Azriel lowered his hands and leaned back on his heels.

“Well, that was interesting.”

I raised my eyebrows. “In what way?”

“He has only ever dealt with Lauren and Lucien. I could find no indication that there was another party involved in their schemes.”

“Which doesn’t mean there isn’t,” I commented. “Just that he’s been extraordinarily canny about revealing himself.”

“Perhaps.” Azriel’s gaze briefly swept the shifter, and distaste briefly touched his expression. “He was created just over a week ago. His flesh belongs to a drifter but his soul was wrenched from the fires of hell.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

His gaze came to mine. Anger burned deep in those blue depths. “When Lauren creates these creatures, she replaces the original soul with one who is bound by her magic to obey. Her source is hell itself.”

She was dragging souls back from hell? Not just demons, but souls? Holy fucking crap. “So what happens to the original soul? Do they share flesh space?”

“No. It was forced out, so it would have become one of the lost ones.”

A ghost, in other words. Anger surged through me, and Amaya burned to life, her flames shooting fierce lilac streaks through the darkness. Echoing my emotions, as Valdis sometimes echoed Azriel’s.

“How the hell could she do something like that, Azriel? I would have thought only the powers in charge of both heaven and hell were capable of such a feat.”

“It is doubtful she would have attempted drawing souls from the light path, if only because they would not have the level of corruption she seems to require. But the dark path has always allowed access to those with enough power and strength of will.”

“But why? I mean, the gates were created to prevent souls and demons escaping, weren’t they?”

“Yes, but any barrier can be breached. The portals have never been totally impervious. They cannot be, when souls must constantly traverse them.”

“We really do have to catch this bitch,” I muttered, and glanced back at our shifter. “He seemed a whole lot more rational than some of the others we’ve come across.”

“Perhaps Lauren has finally refined her technique.”

I snorted softly. Nothing like refining the way you destroyed someone’s present and future lives. “What about those stones I came across inside? Could you find anything about those?”

He nodded. “It is a minor protection circle, as you have already guessed. It hides stairs that lead down into the basement.”

“I wonder if the basement leads into the tunnels the pit falls into?”

“I don’t know. His memories seemed to imply the magic merely protects storage areas, but that does not mean that is all there is to be found down there.”

It would be typical of the sort of luck we’d been getting, though. “If it’s only minor magic, Ilianna will be able to unpick it for us.”

“Shall I go retrieve her?”

I hesitated. “I don’t think the witches would react too favorably to your presence in the Brindle.”

He frowned. “Perhaps not, but it would drain too much of your strength to transport her here in Aedh form.”

And it would take longer than we probably had to drive here. The shifter had been sent here for a reason, after all, and sooner or later someone was going to miss him. I blew out a breath. “Okay, you fetch her. I’ll wait here and knock our friend out again if he shows signs of waking.”

“No need.” Azriel briefly pressed two fingers against the shifter’s forehead, and energy caressed the air. “He will not waken until I will it.”

I frowned. “How come you could do that, and yet not access his mind telepathically?”

“Different sections of the brain. I have also adjusted his memories. He now believes he came out here to investigate a sound, and was knocked unconscious and subsequently robbed. I suggest you claim his wallet.” He touched my hand, his fingers warm against my skin. “Stay alert. I won’t be long.”

“Even I can’t get into trouble in the two minutes you’ll be gone,” I said, voice wry. But I was talking to air.

And tempting fate.

Because the words were barely out of my mouth when an odd glimmer caught my eye. It was little more than a wisp of silvery smoke that was quickly shredded as it passed under the glow of the streetlight, but my stomach nevertheless dropped.

Because it wasn’t smoke.

The Ania were back.