Chapter Seven

WAKING WAS A SLOW AND UGLY PROCESS. MY head ached like a bitch, and every muscle in my body throbbed in sympathy. It felt like I’d been caught in some gigantic shaker and thrown about viciously.

Which I guess I had, I thought, suddenly remembering the accident.

That I was no longer in the cab was immediately obvious. The vinyl seat that had been pressed against my side had been replaced by cold concrete, and the air reeked of damp, rubbish, and excrement rather than orange freshener.

Which no doubt meant I was down in the goddamn sewer tunnels again. What the hell was it with these tunnels and bad guys? And why was I even here? Why hadn’t Azriel come riding to the rescue?

No answer came out of the darkness and no half-naked, sword-wielding fury strode forward to rescue me. Obviously, for whatever reason, I was alone. Fear rose, but I thrust it aside and tried not to think about the last time I’d been trapped in the sewers by myself.

But I’d escaped that prison on my own, and I’d damn well escape this one, too.

As my eyes adjusted to the inky blackness, the rough-hewn dirt walls and a high arched ceiling became evident. I frowned. This wasn’t a sewer tunnel—although there had to be one close by given the stench in the air—and it certainly seemed a whole lot larger than the last cell I’d found myself in.

Not that it mattered what the hell this place actually was. All that did matter was getting the hell out of here before whoever had snatched me returned. I took a slow, steadying breath, and then reached for my Aedh form. But as the magic within me surged, a rainbow shimmer flared across the arched ceiling and pain—dark, familiar, and as sharp as a knife—speared into my flesh, right into my soul. I gasped and jackknifed into a fetal position, recognizing the magic, knowing what it could do. It was the magic the Aedh had used to stop the shift and break my connection with Azriel.

But this felt slightly different from that earlier version. It was darker. More bloody. Which didn’t exactly make sense.

“Ah,” a voice behind me said, just about giving me a heart attack in the process. “You’re awake. Excellent.”

I twisted around sharply—too sharply, if the needles of pain driving into my ribs were any indication—and saw him. Or rather, saw his outline, which appeared tall and wiry. The rest of him was difficult to make out, simply because he seemed to merge with the shadows, though I had no sense of a vampire. But I had no sense of humanity, either.

In fact, I still had no sense of anything living. It was as if he weren’t even here.

I frowned and flared my nostrils, dragging in the foul air, sorting through the various stenches. There was definitely no indication that there was anyone else in this underground room besides myself.

So if he wasn’t here, where the hell was he?

And just how well could he see me?

“Who the hell are you?” I asked, wincing a little at my loudness but, at the same time, glad the shakiness that still afflicted my muscles wasn’t apparent in my voice.

“I actually believe you’ve been looking for me,” he said, his voice jovial and plummy. “I’m—”

“Ike Forman,” I finished for him as I scanned the walls again. I couldn’t see any cameras or microphones anywhere in the room, and rather doubted he’d have access to the sort of nanotechnology that Stane would—or that he’d risk such expensive equipment in a place like this. So even if the figure in front of me was a projection rather than a reality, he still had to be somewhere close by. If only because most projections had distance limits. “You’re the man who has taken over Handberry’s team—not that there’s any of them left right now.”

“No,” he said sadly, as if he really did regret losing them though I suspected quite the opposite. “They rather underestimated your capabilities. But rest assured that I will not.”

Men had been underestimating me my entire life. I was hoping it wasn’t going to stop now, despite Forman’s statement. “What do you want with me?”

I pushed upright, only to discover my legs were tied together and my feet somewhat numb. I fell back down, my knees hitting the concrete so hard it jarred my already aching body.

I swore and his mirth swam around me. “Your legs are tied together with wire. I was tempted to use silver, but that might cause more damage than I wish just yet. We may need to leave this bolt-hole in a hurry if your dark protector breaks the outer barriers.”

Meaning Azriel was somewhere close by? Part of me hoped so, and part of me refused to rely on that hope, preferring to depend on my own instincts and abilities.

Then the words just yet registered. I licked my lips and tried not to think about the underlying threat. I tried to think with some degree of clarity. It wasn’t easy when my head felt like someone was trying to claw their way out of it.

So why was he using ordinary wire when silver was a much safer option for werewolves? If he knew enough about me to construct a barrier capable of preventing me becoming Aedh, then he’d obviously know I was also part were. What was he planning?

It was a thought that niggled as I said, “To repeat my earlier question, what the hell do you want with me?”

“I want what my predecessor wanted. The keys, or the book that tells us how to find them. I’m not fussed either way.”

“But why do you want them? You’re neither Aedh nor reaper, so gaining the keys to heaven or hell would be useless to you.”

“Who said I wanted the keys?”

I carefully shifted position until I could see both him and the wire that was holding me hostage. It was a fine gray line that snaked away into deeper shadows. I had no idea what I was attached to, but I had no doubt it would be secure. I tested it anyway, and got the result I expected. No give, and no indication that it would readily pull free of whatever waited at the other end.

Interestingly, Forman didn’t comment. Which maybe meant that, if I kept my actions small enough, he wouldn’t see them.

“So it’s Harlen who actually wants the keys?” I said.

He paused. “I don’t know a Harlen.”

“Well, you certainly did when you were talking to Handberry the night he died. In fact, Handberry was going to meet him. I guess it’s lucky that Harlen didn’t actually turn up, or he might have become the soul stealer’s dessert.”

I shifted back onto my butt and hugged my knees close to my chest. Fire ran up my bruised legs, but I ignored that. The position got me closer to the wire tying my legs together. But there was no knot to undo. The damn thing had been soldered on.

“Ah yes, I do recall that conversation now,” he said, clearly amused if the note in his voice was anything to go by. “But Harlen is of no interest to either of us right now.”

And yet his casual dismissal had instinct suggesting that the very opposite was true. “I hate to break this to you, but anyone involved in the attempted murder of my friends is of interest to me right now.”

“Harlen didn’t order any attacks on your friends.”

“Indeed?” I shifted my arms a little so that they pressed against my sides. I still had my phone. I still had my knife. This man might not be underestimating me, but he sure as hell hadn’t searched me very well. “Then Harlen isn’t the man behind the buyout of premises on West Street?”

“No, he’s not behind the buyout, although he will definitely benefit from it.” Once again it sounded like it was all one big joke only he could understand. “You really must tell us your sources.”

“The Directorate,” I said, crossing my arms to hide my hands. Slowly, carefully, I grabbed my jacket and pulled it around until the pocket holding the knife was at the front of my body. “They did capture one of your boys and they do so enjoy the odd routine-breaking bit of interrogation … as you will experience yourself once I hand you over to them.”

He laughed. “My dear, I’d start worrying about your future rather than mine.”

I reached into the pocket and wrapped my hands around the hilt of the knife. “Look, I don’t know where the goddamn book is. I don’t know where my father is. Those facts cannot be changed, no matter how much you might wish otherwise.”

“We shall see.”

He moved, and his shadowy form wavered briefly—the first real indication that I was indeed watching a projection rather than a real person. I quickly scanned the wall behind his image, and for the first time noticed the faint outline of a doorway.

Then his image flicked a nonexistent switch—or at least it was nonexistent in this room—and something hit me with the force of a sledgehammer. I was thrown backward, my spine hitting a wall with bone-crunching force and my body shaking, trembling, and tingling. The assault stopped almost as soon as it had began, but the skin underneath the wire felt like it was burning, and my whole body felt weird. Numb, almost.

“Now that you’ve had a taste of what I can do, please answer the question.”

I licked my lips and somehow croaked, “What fucking question?” God, there were spots dancing before my eyes, and my ears were ringing. What the hell had he done to me?

“Where is the book?”

“I don’t know—”

I didn’t get any further. The force hit again, and only the wall at my back prevented me from being thrown. But it didn’t stop my limbs from shaking and dancing, and it didn’t stop the energy that was flowing through me.

Electricity. He was using electricity on me. God, the wire. It was coming through the wire around my legs.

The energy snapped off again, leaving me a trembling, twitching mess. And yet my mind was suddenly clear. I had to get the wire off before he hit me a third time. Had to.

I closed my eyes and once again forced shaking fingers toward my pocket. The knife was still there. Relief surged.

“Answer the questions,” Forman said, in that same dispassionate voice, “and the electrocution will stop.”

I groaned in response and curled into a tight ball, my knees drawn up close to my chest. With my hands once again hidden, I slowly wrapped my fingers around the knife and drew it from the sheath.

“Risa,” he said, an edge of sympathy in his voice. “I really have no desire to cause you such pain. All you have to do is answer my questions.”

I slipped the knife from my pocket then flipped it back along my forearm so that it was hidden from view as I moved my arm down toward my curled-up legs.

“The book,” I said, forcing my eyes open to watch for any indication that he realized what I was up to. Though what I would do if he did realize, I had no idea. I wasn’t exactly in an ideal position right now. “It’s on the gray fields.”

He tsked. “That is most unfortunate, as neither I nor my employer has access to those fields.”

His employer. Not Harlen, then; otherwise he would have simply said it. That was a name I already knew. Although maybe he simply thought I was fishing and was just being careful.

I flicked the knife around and caught the wire in the notch at the top of the blade. Slowly, carefully, I began to bend it back and forth.

“That,” I said, my whole arm shaking with the effort to break the wire, “is not my problem.”

“But I’m afraid it is,” he said, “because it means you’ll just have to fetch it for us.”

Not on your fucking life. The wire snapped, and I quickly squeezed my calves together, stopping it from snaking away. If he flicked that switch now, I was still a goner, but that was a risk I had to take.

I sheathed the knife then reached down and caught the end of the wire, holding it gingerly.

Now what?

I glanced over to the silhouetted figure. I had to get up and over there fast. Really fast—because God knew what other traps he had waiting for me.

“Look,” I said, keeping my voice croaky and weak—which wasn’t really all that hard given I’d just been zapped. “I didn’t hide the book on the gray fields. The reaper did. And he doesn’t want the book found or used, trust me.”

“Well, that is not helpful,” he said. “I shall have to consult with my employer to see what he wants done.” He paused, then added softly, “Please behave yourself. I am watching and—trust me—I can get to the switch far faster than you could ever hope to escape the wire or pull it free from the wall.”

He turned away, giving me the only chance I was ever likely to get.

I released the wire. It made little sound as it snaked backward along the concrete. With my eyes on my captor’s back, I pushed carefully upright. My limbs protested the movement and lights did a crazy dance in front of my eyes, but I bit my tongue, using one pain to ignore the others.

Then I ran—as hard and as fast as I could—for the door behind the figure.

He sensed me—he was always going to sense me—but I crashed through the projection of his body and then into the door, hitting it so hard I broke it off its hinges, sending me and the door spilling into the small room beyond.

He was already up and running. I scrambled to my feet and gave chase, launching myself at him as he fled through a second door. We both went down in a tangle of arms and legs, rolling along the concrete before we dropped off a ledge and splashed into some foul-smelling water.

Forman swore, his body twisting and bucking, his blows raining across my shoulders and back. It was all I could do to hold on. I didn’t have the strength to fight back—not right now. Not when I was still suffering the aftereffects of both the electricity and the accident.

Then one of his knees hit my ribs and, for a moment, everything went red. I gasped and my grip loosened a fraction. He was up in an instant, and running yet again.

“Stop, or I’ll shoot,” a voice boomed out behind me. A voice I recognized but wasn’t expecting.

Lucian.

Forman slowed and turned around. Surprise registered then his features disintegrated as the gun boomed and the bullet exploded his head, sending bits of blood and bone and brain matter splattering across the wet, slimy walls behind him.

As he slumped—lifeless and headless—to the ground, I battled the bile that rose up my throat. No reaper came to collect his soul, and that could only mean his death wasn’t supposed to happen now.

I closed my eyes and attempted to keep my breathing even as footsteps approached. Then Lucian was bending over me, his warm fingers lightly brushing damp hair away from my face. “Are you okay?”

I nodded, swallowed again, then said, “Why the hell did you shoot to kill?”

“He had a gun.”

“He did?” I hadn’t felt it when I was grappling with him. And if he’d been armed, why didn’t he just shoot me rather than running?

“Yes. Wait here.”

He rose and walked forward. I took a deep, shuddering breath and regretted it almost instantly as the stench of the muck I was lying in made my already unstable stomach twist harder.

I pushed to my hands and knees and clambered from the water to the concrete walkway lining it. After a moment, Lucian returned. This time he was holding two guns.

“Told you,” he said, handing me the smaller of the two.

I accepted it somewhat reluctantly. “And why would I want this?”

He offered me a hand. “Because I don’t know who—or what—else might be down here, and another gun might come in handy.”

I nodded and placed my hand in his. He pulled me up easily, but the minute I got close to him, his nose wrinkled. “You, my girl, stink to high heaven. Are you okay to walk, or do you need a shoulder to lean on?”

I let go of his hand. “I’m fine.” Which was a total lie, but if there were other people down here, he needed to be able to react fast, and he couldn’t do that if I was hanging off him. “How did you find me?”

“Remember that telepathic connection you were bitching about only this afternoon?”

I raised my eyebrows. “I would hardly call what I said bitching. I was just a little unimpressed that you were wandering through my mind uninvited.”

“It is a by-product of sex,” he said, “and can’t be helped.”

“I know.” I stepped over Forman’s body and tried not to look at him. Tried not to think that my ability to question him had been annihilated as thoroughly as his head. “But what does that have to do with finding me?”

Lucian glanced over his shoulder, his green eyes shining fiercely in the shadows of the tunnel. “I was on the phone with you when the accident happened, remember?”

“Sort of.” I frowned and retrieved my phone from my pocket. It informed me that the connection had been severed. No surprise there, given the man I’d been talking to was now walking several feet in front of me. “So you used my phone to track me?”

“No,” he said patiently, obviously realizing he was speaking to someone with a slightly addled brain. “I followed the connection sex has given us. I knew roughly where you were when the accident happened, so it was simply a matter of driving hell-for-leather down here and then walking around until I felt you.”

“So the connection isn’t a long-distance thing?”

“Yes and no.” He shrugged. “Sometimes I do get tantalizing fragments, but it’s really nothing clear or concise unless I’m close.”

Which was a whole lot more than what he’d admitted earlier and made me wonder if this was actually the truth, or whether it was yet another misdirection.

“How did you get down here?”

“Sewer entrance. There should be another one coming up.”

“And you didn’t spot anyone else down here?”

“No.” He glanced at me again. “Why?”

“I don’t know.” I paused. “It just seems odd. I mean, he was asking about the book, but surely if he were so desperate for it, he would have ensured that I was more secure.”

“There was magic in the room. I could feel it even when I was standing outside the door.”

“Yeah, I know. It prevented me from becoming Aedh—”

“That is some pretty serious magical mojo,” Lucian interrupted grimly. “He may have thought that was all he needed.”

Maybe. And yet, something still felt off to me. I couldn’t explain it—particularly given that Forman had been pretty convincing in his desire to get the information out of me. It was just an odd, niggling feeling—and I’d long learned to listen to my feelings, no matter how weird they might seem.

“How long have I been missing?”

“Not long. A couple of hours.” He shrugged. “I doubt anyone has even realized you’re gone yet.”

Azriel would have. He’d have felt it, even if—thanks to the magic barrier—he’d been incapable of doing anything about it.

As his name ran through my mind, I felt the heat of his presence surge across the foul-smelling darkness. Lucian stopped abruptly. “I think your reaper just arrived.”

“I think you might be right.” I paused beside him. “Azriel?”

He stepped out of the shadows, Valdis held by his left side, her blade flickering with blue fire. The flames spun through the darkness like brief flashes of lightning.

His stormy gaze ran from me to Lucian then back again, but all he said was, “Are you all right?”

“No, actually, I feel like shit and I smell like it, too. Right now I just want to get somewhere safe and take a bath.”

“I can take—”

“No,” Lucian said forcibly. “I will take her to my apartment. She’ll be safe—”

“I think it highly unlikely she would be safe with the likes of you,” Azriel commented, his tone even but his grip on Valdis seeming to tighten. The fire along her blade flared.

“And yet it was me who rescued her, not you, reaper.”

“Oh for God’s sake, enough with this macho bullshit!” I all but exploded. “I’ll fucking take care of myself, thank you very much.”

Lucian swung around. “I did not mean that you couldn’t—”

I placed a hand on his arm, stopping him. “I know, and thank you for both the concern and the rescue, but right now I need to be away from people I care about.”

“I, like you, am more than able to take care of myself,” he retorted. “And not just with a gun—”

“I know,” I repeated, then rose up on my toes and kissed him lightly. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Right now I think it’s better I get the hell out of here, just in case Forman’s boss decides to come investigate.”

“Then perhaps,” he said slowly, “I should remain here, just in case. At the very least, I can study the magic and see if there’s a clue as to its origin.”

I frowned. “I really don’t think you should be putting yourself in danger like that—”

“Danger?” he snorted softly. “Trust me, one lone practitioner does not represent a danger to me.”

“But—”

He briefly placed a finger against my lips. “I will be fine. Besides, it’s a good chance to flex some muscle. The life of an accountant is somewhat boring.”

I chuckled softly, then kissed him again. This time his arm snaked around my waist, and he kissed me more fully. It hurt my ribs but, right then, I couldn’t have cared less.

“You still stink,” he said eventually.

I grinned. “I promise I won’t tomorrow.”

“Hey, as long as you’re warm, willing, and able, I honestly won’t care what you smell like.”

I laughed, touched a hand to his cheek, then wrapped my hands around my phone and wallet, avoiding Azriel’s steely gaze as I called to the Aedh. Her energy surged through my body, numbing sensation as it broke down every muscle, every cell, until my flesh no longer existed and I became one with the air.

In that form, I fled down the tunnel until I found a storm drain and was able to escape into the cold night air. I had no idea where Azriel was—he couldn’t follow me when I was in this form—and half wondered if I should have warned him to leave Lucian alone. If Valdis was—as I was beginning to suspect—something of an indicator of her master’s emotions, then Azriel had not been happy to discover Lucian beside me.

But had he been angry enough to attack?

I doubted it, if only because Azriel seemed to operate off some grand master plan. And if Lucian’s death had been part of that plan, then it would have happened long ago.

I whisked along the city streets, heading for the café. While I could slide into the Langham unseen in this form, my clothes were rank and there was no way I was stepping back into them after a shower. I still couldn’t go home, so the week’s worth of clothes I’d left in my locker at the café was the next best option. I certainly couldn’t go shopping in this state.

The place was relatively quiet for a change. Tao was in the kitchen, humming happily as he worked, and several waitresses were clearing tables, readying for the next rush of people. I flowed up the stairs and into the changing room, ensuring no one was about before I shifted back to human shape. I released my grip on my phone and purse a second before I hit the tiled floor, then stayed there for several minutes, battling for breath and waiting for the pain in my head and the shaking in my body to ease. It had been one hell of a night, and I just had to hope the surprises were done with. I really couldn’t take much more right now.

“You need to eat,” a soft voice said behind me.

I jumped instinctively, then swore as I recognized the familiar wash of heat when he stepped into existence.

“Damn it, Azriel,” I said, pushing up onto my knees. The pain in my head sharpened briefly then eased off, but the ache in my ribs remained at a barely bearable level. “You really have to stop scaring me like that.”

“And if you’d been more attuned to your instincts, you’d have felt me coming long before I actually arrived.”

And if any other man had said that, I might have been tempted to grin and tease him about double meanings. But Azriel wasn’t any other man.

His legs appeared in front of me. I glanced up the length of him, unable to help admiring his lean, muscular body, then met his gaze. His expression was as neutral as ever, but his eyes, like the sword strapped to his back, were filled with energy. I sighed. “Azriel, I’m really not up to an argument about Lucian right now.”

Surprise flickered briefly across his face before neutrality clamped in again. “I wasn’t looking for an argument.”

He offered me a hand and I accepted it gratefully, allowing him to pull me to my feet.

“And the Aedh is right,” he added, not releasing me immediately. “You stink.”

“Thanks.” I glanced down at our hands and he took the hint, letting go. I flexed my fingers, unable to escape the warmth of his touch, and tried to ignore the feeling that he’d wanted to say more than he had. I stepped back. “Did you and Lucian investigate the room I’d been held in?”

“The Aedh did. I examined the body in the sewer.”

I turned around and began stripping off as I walked toward the shower. Azriel’s gaze was a weight that pressed against my spine, and despite the fact that I was werewolf—and more than used to parading around naked before all and sundry—embarrassment began to swirl through me.

Because he wasn’t all and sundry.

And that, I thought in annoyance, was the stupidest thought I’d ever had. He wasn’t all and sundry because he was a reaper, and he didn’t care if I was clothed or naked, upside down or inside out. The only thing that mattered to him was achieving his mission. Nothing more, and nothing less.

“That is not entirely true,” he said softly.

I closed my eyes as I turned on the water. Damn it, why couldn’t I just stop thinking such stupid thoughts? “Why isn’t it?”

“I care for your safety. I care that you are not looking after yourself properly.”

“Only because my carelessness could affect your mission.” I stepped into the shower and simply stood there for a moment, letting the hot water sluice down my body, washing away the worst of the sewer grime as well as the remnants of my clothing. Then I took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “You know, we’ve had this argument before. I really need to get over it, don’t I?”

“Yes.”

I grinned and glanced at him over my shoulder. He was leaning against the far wall, his arms crossed and his expression dispassionate. Valdis sat in her sheath, yet little amber fireflies of energy flew around her hilt. Not indicating his anger, I thought, but something else—though what that something else might be, I had no idea.

I grabbed the shampoo and tried to concentrate on the mundane task of washing my hair rather than the very unmundane man behind me. “Did you find anything on the body?”

“Nothing at all.”

“What do you mean, nothing?” I said, a little confused.

“No wallet, no identification, no phone, nothing.”

I frowned. “What about a holster?”

“No.”

“Why would he have a gun and not a holster?”

I was thinking out loud rather than asking an actual question, but Azriel answered anyway.

“Maybe he doesn’t normally carry a gun and only grabbed it once he was running from you.”

“He didn’t have time to grab anything. He simply ran.”

“Then logically, he was carrying it all along.”

Logically, yes. But I still couldn’t escape the itch that something about the whole situation was off.

“Then you need to listen to instinct,” Azriel commented.

I sighed. “The trouble with that is that instinct isn’t giving me a whole lot more than vague feelings of unease.”

“You’ll get more, if you give it time.”

And time was something we didn’t seem to have a lot of. “Was his soul collected by a reaper?”

“No. His death did not follow the ordained order, so his soul will roam the wilderness between this world and the gray fields.”

“Could you find it? Question it?”

“No. He is in the lost lands. I can see the lost ones, but I am not able—nor am I allowed—to communicate with them in any way.” He paused. “But you might be able to. Adeline Greenfield said you had more of your mother’s talents than you were aware, and your mother communicated with both the dead and the lost ones.”

“I might be able to see ghosts, but I’ve never known how to communicate with them. And right now we haven’t got the time for me to learn.” Although if things kept going against us, I might just have to find the time. “Did Ilianna get her books and equipment okay?”

“Yes.”

“So why didn’t you come riding to my rescue when I had the car accident?”

“Because the Raziq attacked us at the house.”

I spun around. “What? Is Ilianna okay?”

“Of course. They attacked in force, which meant I had to flee rather than fight.”

I studied him for a moment, hearing the annoyance in his voice even though it didn’t show in his features, then turned around and squirted some soap into my hand. “And you would rather have fought?”

“Of course. The more Raziq I destroy, the fewer there are to find and use the keys.”

“So why not gather together a group of Mijai and hunt them down?”

“Because,” he said patiently, “that is against—”

“—the rules,” I finished for him. “Whoever made these rules of yours really sucks, you know that?”

“There are times when I think a certain amount of absurdity has been added to the whole process,” he agreed solemnly.

I glanced at him again and saw the brief twinkle in his bright eyes. “It’s hard to believe that, when I first met you, I thought you were devoid of humor.”

“I’m afraid it’s merely a side effect of holding this form.”

“How can holding human form affect whether or not you have a sense of humor?”

“It’s not just a sense of humor we gain.” He hesitated. “We are not without emotions, as I have said, but holding this shape for any length of time sharpens certain emotions, and that is often inconvenient.”

“Meaning it makes you more like us?”

“No.” Again he hesitated. “It simply makes us more … susceptible … to certain types of emotion.”

“What types of emotion?”

He shrugged and his game face came back down. “That very much depends on the situation we find ourselves in.”

“So if you find yourself guarding a totally annoying woman who won’t listen to reason and who insists on seeing an Aedh you distrust intensely, you’re liable to become more angry and more unreasonable the longer you hold this form?”

Amusement briefly touched his lips. “More than likely. Luckily for us both, I am not stuck guarding a woman who totally ignores reason. She just ignores it when it suits her best.”

A smile twitched my lips. “Ah, but she is seeing a fallen Aedh.”

“I didn’t say she was perfect.”

I laughed and he smiled. It made his whole face seem warmer, more alive. More handsome. And I shouldn’t be noticing. I turned around and finished washing myself.

“Did you discover anything else about Forman when you examined him?” I asked as I turned off the taps then reached for a towel.

“No. And there certainly wasn’t enough of his brains left to enter his mind and read the lingering shadows of his thoughts and life.”

“Yeah, Lucian did get a little trigger-happy.” I walked across to my locker and began dressing. “I would have loved to have questioned him about his boss.”

“So Forman did not set the magic?”

“No, and it wasn’t an Aedh, either, because the magic had a different feel. It was darker.”

“Suggesting a sorcerer or Charna, perhaps?”

“Perhaps.” I finger-combed my hair. “But why would either of those want control of the gates?”

“Power,” he said simply. “Especially if we’re dealing with a dark sorcerer.”

“And if the dark sorcerer is also behind the buy-up of the businesses around Stane?”

He shrugged. “West Street sits on a major ley line junction. That would be a huge draw to someone after power—especially if he cannot naturally walk the gray fields.”

I raised my eyebrows as I grabbed my bag of clothes and closed the locker. “How could a junction of ley lines help a sorcerer walk the grey fields?”

“As I have said, these intersections are places of such power that they can be used to manipulate time, reality, or fate. But they can also be used to create rifts between this world and the next.”

I frowned. “So a powerful enough sorcerer could enter the gray fields and presumably find the gates, even though he doesn’t have that ability naturally?”

Azriel nodded. “Although it is not so easy to find the gates in the fields. We are attuned to them; the sorcerer would not be.”

“But that might not matter if he finds the keys.”

“Which is why we must find the keys first.”

“Well, we won’t be able to do that until Ilianna creates the void for the book.” I hesitated. “But there’s one thing I don’t get. What was the point of buying up all the businesses around the ley lines? Why not just buy the building where they intersect?”

“Potions and spells do not require protection circles, but real magic—be it big or small—does. When it comes to an intersection this large, a prudent practitioner would want to build something rather more substantial than just a normal protection spell.”

“Something more permanent?”

“If they intend to use it more than once, yes.”

Then I guess the buyout made some sort of sense. “I think I’ll head to my hotel room to grab some sleep.”

“Get something to eat before you do,” he said, his tone indicating it was an order more than a suggestion.

“Are you always this bossy?” I said, exasperation in my voice as I headed for the door.

His lips once more twitched. “Only when the person I am supposed to be guarding is less than cautious about her own well-being.”

“And do you guard such people often?”

“This is the first and—more than likely—the last time I will undertake such an endeavor.”

I stopped next to him and met his gaze. “If you don’t like the mission, why not ask for a transfer?”

“It is my duty, and no one else’s.” His gaze didn’t waver, and yet something in those blue depths—something fierce and raw—made my stomach quiver. “And I never said I didn’t like it.”

“You’ve a funny way of showing it then, my friend.”

“That is because,” he said softly, “I fear it more than I like it.”

And with that, he winked out of existence, leaving me with dozens of questions I knew would probably never find an answer.

“Damn you to hell, Azriel,” I muttered, and clomped down the stairs.

Tao raised an eyebrow as I entered the kitchen. His brown hair was covered by an old baseball cap worn backward, and his white chef’s jacket was splattered with a colorful array of the evening’s cooking.

“You don’t look happy,” he commented. “Do you need a shoulder, drink, or food?”

“Mostly the last option, but a little of the others wouldn’t go astray right now, either.”

He caught my elbow and led me over to a chair in the far corner. “Sit,” he ordered, “while I rustle up a meal and a drink.”

I did as ordered. Tao, like most wolves, tended to be on the lean side, but he worked out religiously and, as a result, had not only wonderful shoulders and arms but a nice V-shape to his body as well. And he moved with a grace that belied his height.

“So,” he said, coming back ten minutes later with a thick steak sandwich and a huge glass of Coke, “what’s been going on?”

I updated him on everything that had happened over the day as I ate, and when I’d finished talking, he frowned. “So the first priority now has to be tracking down this Harlen fellow.”

“Stane’s not going to make much headway until we can get a full name,” I commented, grabbing a tea towel and wiping my hands on it. “I think we’re better off trying to find the man in charge. I mean, how many dark sorcerers can there be in this city?”

“Probably more than you or I are aware of,” he said grimly, crossing his arms as he leaned a shoulder against the wall. “And Ilianna is probably getting close to using up all her goodwill at the Brindle.”

“Which is why I’m going over there myself tomorrow to talk to them.” I wanted to see their reactions when I told them someone had raised a Maniae and had sent it after members of the high vampire council.

“You want company?” Tao asked.

I hesitated, then shook my head. I had Azriel and, at this point, it seemed wiser to keep contact with those I cared about to a minimum. At least until we sorted out the Aedh problem. They’d already gone after Ilianna—they might try Tao next.

Which only meant it was all the more urgent that Ilianna find the wards my father had set and try to reuse them around our place.

Of course, as Azriel had already pointed out, I was probably endangering both Ilianna and Tao just by being here at the café. I finished my Coke and stood up with a sigh. “I’ll be staying at the Langham for the next few days. You’ll need to find someplace else to stay, too.”

He grinned. “Finding a place to bunk down will not be a problem, let me assure you.”

I eyed him for a minute, then said, “How are you and Candy doing?”

“Sadly, it was just a fling, and now she’s moved on to greener pastures.”

I blinked. “You almost sound upset.”

“I am. It’s usually me doing the dumping, not the other way around.”

I leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “Well, I can’t say I’m sad she’s out of your life, but I doubt she’ll find a better lover than you.”

He smiled and touched my chin lightly. “Damn right,” he said, a smile teasing his lips. Then it faded a little. “Be careful, okay?”

“I will.” I kissed him again then headed out of the café, catching a passing cab and heading to the Langham. Once in my suite, I crawled into bed and went straight to sleep.

The sharp trilling of my phone woke me. I groped for it blindly and croaked, “Hello?”

“Risa? It’s Mike.”

It said a lot about my state that it took me several moments to remember that Mike was our accountant. He’d also been Mom’s accountant and, I suspected, a whole lot more—although that was something neither he nor she had confirmed.

“Mike,” I said, rolling over onto my back and wiping the sleep from my eyes. “What’s up?”

I glanced at the clock as I said it and discovered it was nearly midday. I’d slept a whole lot longer than I’d intended.

“I need you to come in and sign some documents so we can complete the transfer of several of your mom’s assets,” he said. “I’m free at three—does that suit?”

I somehow restrained a yawn and said, “I guess.”

“Good. I’ll see you then.” He hung up, but the phone rang again almost immediately. This time, the vid-screen opened up, revealing Stane.

“Hey,” he said, sounding far too cheerful for someone who spent his entire life sitting behind com-screens. “How’s it going?”

“I’ve had better weeks,” I replied honestly enough. “What’s up?”

“I’ve done a sweep of your place and removed several bugs. You’ll be pleased to know there were no monitors.” He paused, then added a little dramatically, “And I’ve had a minor breakthrough.”

My heart skipped several beats. “You’ve found the missing man behind the consortium?”

“Nope.”

“You’ve discovered who our mystery man known only as Harlen really is?”

“Remember, I used the word minor,” he said drily. “So no.”

“Then what?”

“Remember that rat-faced guy you were looking for? The one who delivered the Dušan’s book and the first letter from your father?”

“You’ve discovered who he is?”

“Better than that. I know where you can find him. And he’s there right now if you want to talk to him.”