by Keri Arthur
“I’m afraid it’s a rather tedious one.”
“Which is precisely what computers are designed for. Give.”
I hesitated, my gaze sweeping the room. “You have checked for bugs recently, haven’t you?”
He snorted. “Daily, my dear. And I have several of the latest noise screens up and running, just in case the Directorate or some other government department decides to get long-distance nosy about my activities.”
“Good.” Because I wouldn’t put it past Hunter to have this place wired for sound. Of course, I guess she really didn’t need to, given that she still had at least two Cazadors following me about astrally, and at least one of those was still reporting back truthfully. I supposed I just had to hope it was Markel on duty right now, not the other one. I took a deep breath in an effort to calm the tension running through me, then added, “According to the bastard who was my father, the third key lies in the southeast, on a palace whose coat of arms lies the wrong way around.”
Stane blinked. “Well, that’s not exactly an expansive clue, is it?”
“No. I’ve done a search and come up with thousands of possibilities. I need you to pin it down—and, if possible, within the next six hours.”
He clasped his hands, then stretched them out in front of his body, cracked his knuckles. “Well, we’d better get down to it, then, hadn’t we? You waiting around, or checking out Jantz’s address?”
“The latter.”
“Then come back in six hours if I haven’t contacted you sooner.”
“Will do.” I gulped down the remainder of my coffee, put the cup in the sink—which was already half-filled with unwashed dishes—then walked back over and dropped a kiss on Stane’s cheek. “Thank you.”
His grin was decidedly impudent. “You do know that another crate of bubbles would be far more appreciated than a kiss—as lovely as a kiss is, obviously.”
“Consider it done.” I got out my phone and ordered him two. Who knew when I’d get the chance otherwise.
“Thank you, my dear. My liver appreciates it.”
“So does your wallet, no doubt,” I said, voice dry, “especially considering you’re undoubtedly making a nice profit on them.”
“On some of them, definitely. But me and the liver have acquired quite a taste for bubbles.”
I stepped toward Azriel, then hesitated and glanced back at Stane. “Get the rest of those screens up. Now.”
His smile faded. “On it, boss. You take care yourself.”
“We will.”
With that, Azriel wrapped his arms around my waist, tugged me closer, then whisked us out of there. We reappeared in the middle of a park. A pretty park, but still a park rather than the expected apartment. I blinked and looked around, then caught sight of the golden turret atop the Sydney Tower and realized what had happened. Azriel couldn’t actually take us to anyplace neither of us had been. We were here rather than Jantz’s apartment simply because I’d been through Hyde Park, and this was the closest we could get to the Elizabeth Street building.
“I can use static images as reference points,” he commented, “as long as they’re detailed enough.”
“Which is something we’ll undoubtedly have to do later.” I stepped away, then caught his hand and led the way. “A building in this part of town is going to have high-level security. You might have to influence the guard to get us in.”
“That will not be a problem.”
It never was. We walked down to the streetlights—dashing through Sydney traffic was never a good idea; not if you valued your life, that was, and I hardly wanted to survive the Raziq only to get sideswiped by a mad Sydney motorist—then back to the building. The entrance was discreet and the foyer plush—a palette of golds mingling with dark woods and clever lighting. A guard—also clad in muted gold—looked up from his desk and gave us a smile.
“And how may I help you folks today?” His voice was as smooth and welcoming as his smile, despite the fact that we certainly didn’t look like the type of folks who would know anyone wealthy enough to own a place like this, let alone be able to afford it ourselves. Which, of course, was rather deceptive, given that I could. Hell, I could buy the whole damn building had I wanted to. Mom certainly hadn’t left me poor, in any way, shape, or form.
“We have a meeting with Harrison Jantz in”—I hesitated, making a show of looking at my watch—“precisely five minutes.”
The guard frowned. “I’m afraid that’s impossible, because Mr. Jantz—”
“Mr. Jantz said it was urgent,” Azriel cut in, and waved a hand, doing his thought-altering bit.
The guard’s expression didn’t change. “Of course, but I’ll have to speak with Mr. Jantz first.”
“Fine,” I said, but raised my eyebrows at Azriel. How is that going to get us in when Jantz isn’t there?
He might not be, but our guard will nevertheless hear the expected response, and we will be cleared to go upstairs.
You’re a man of never-ending talents.
And I haven’t even begun to unveil the full depths of some talents yet. His mental tones were bland, but there was a hint of amusement running through the background of his thoughts, and a decidedly cheeky smile creasing the corners of his blue eyes. But it will be my great pleasure to reveal one particular talent over our years together, if the fates so allow.
I grinned. And I, dear reaper, cannot wait. Especially if that so-called talent was what I suspected it was. And really? If what we’d shared was but a taste of what he could do to me, then I was going to be happier—and far more contented—than a pig in shit.
I cannot see why you would equate a pig to your own future happiness. That makes no sense. His reply was distracted. The guard had made the call and was currently have a conversation with the nonexistent Jantz.
You’ve obviously never witnessed the joy of a pig rolling in mud and shit.
Nor do I want to.
How about if I roll around in mud?
That I would definitely watch. He glanced at the guard, who froze instantly, the phone still held to his ear, then added softly, “But then, my idea of heaven is being with you, no matter what you do or where you are.”
I smiled, twined one hand through his, then rose on tiptoes and kissed him, long and tender. Eventually, I added, “Who knew you were such a romantic, reaper.”
He raised a hand and brushed my cheek gently. “Who knew I would have so much to live for. Certainly not me. Not before I met you.”
“And who knew everything I was looking for would come wrapped up in such a stoic, stubborn, frustrating, and absolutely wonderful being who isn’t even of this world.”
He laughed, the sound warm and rich. “There’s a compliment in there somewhere, I’m sure.”
“Maybe. Maybe not,” I replied, amused.
He smiled, then glanced at the guard and released him. The guard placed the phone receiver down, then said, “Mr. Jantz has cleared your entry into the building.”
“Excellent,” Azriel said. “Thank you very much.”
“No problems.” The guard put a couple of security cards on the table, followed by a sign-in book. “ID?”
I showed him my driver’s license, then signed for both of us. He added, “These will get you into the elevator area, and through security screens on the seventh floor.”
“And Mr. Jantz is apartment A?” Azriel said.
“He certainly is.” The guard smiled again. “Just return the passes as you’re exiting.”
“Thank you,” Azriel repeated, then tugged me forward, leading the way to the lift area.
I swiped the card through the slot, then pressed the button for the seventh floor. As the doors closed and the lift began to move smoothly upward, I said, “Given Lauren has a habit of setting traps or blowing shit up, it might be wise if we presume the worst and reconnoiter in energy form before we physically enter Jantz’s apartment.”
“There is also the apartment’s security system to deal with.
It is activated, so even if there are no sorcery surprises, we would need to disconnect that.”
I glanced at him. “How did the police get in if the place was alarmed?”
“Building security has an override. I retrieved it from the guard’s thoughts.” He glanced at the floor indicator. “You had better become Aedh. We’re almost there.”
I wrapped my fingers around my phone, then took a deep, steadying breath and reached for that part of me that was Aedh. Energy surged in response, sweeping through me like a heated tide, numbing pain and dulling sensation as it invaded every muscle, every cell, breaking them down and tearing them apart, until my flesh no longer existed and I became one with the air. Until I held no substance, no form, and could not be seen or heard or felt by anyone or anything who wasn’t reaper or Aedh.
The lift came to a halt and the doors opened. Azriel led the way, his reaper form bright and golden in the warm light of the corridor. We swept under the glass security doors, then headed toward the apartments. There were only two on this floor, and Jantz’s was the one on the Hyde Park side of the building. I slithered in through the small gap between the door and the floor, then paused and looked around. The apartment was absolutely beautiful. It was minimalist in design and one vast open space, the kitchen, dining, and living areas flowing into one another seamlessly. The wall facing the park was all glass doors that could fold back completely, allowing entry onto the gently curving balcony from wherever you were in the main room. Chairs, tables, and mats were the same white as the walls, and the floor was white marble. The only color in the place was the dark wood of the kitchen cabinets and the long entertainment unit that lined one internal wall. There was nothing out of place, and nothing, as far as I could see or sense, that spoke of our sorceress or any of her nasty spells or creatures.
Not yet, anyway.
I moved into the bedroom. There was more color here—splashes of red among the bed furnishings and deeper gold in the en suite. Still no magic, and no obvious bombs.
If she has set such a trap, Azriel commented, she would hardly make it obvious.
True. I drifted back into the main room and headed left, past the entrance door and into the three rear rooms. One was a laundry, one was a bathroom, and the final one a spare bedroom. I still couldn’t feel any magic, and there certainly wasn’t hell spawn of any kind waiting for us. I went back to the main living area and stopped. You know, this doesn’t feel right. At every other place she has had something prepared for us, so why not here?
It could just be that, in these forms, we are unable to sense whatever it is she has waiting.
Maybe. I spun around and headed for the security pad near the front door. What’s the override code?
Seven-four-nine-one.
I called to the Aedh again but siphoned the power into my arm, down into my fingertips, imagining them alone gaining flesh rather than the rest of me. The energy surged and, in an instant, fingers appeared, seemingly floating in midair. I typed in the override code and watched the light stop flashing and turn green.
We should be all right, I said, half turning around.
And in that very instant, the apartment exploded into a million different pieces.
Chapter 5
Heat hit me, a wave so fierce and strong that I was little more than dust before it, tumbling and twisting and burning as it blew me through the apartment, then out the window. Concrete and metal, glass and wood, and god knows what else surrounded me as I was flung from the building, the force of the blast throwing me over the street and into the park.
I hit the ground hard enough to bounce even in energy form, and tumbled several feet farther before I came to a halt. I lay where I fell for several seconds, winded and shocked. Every part of me burned with the force and the heat of the blast, and yet, incredibly, I was alive and not hurt. Being in energy form had undoubtedly saved my life.
Azriel? My mental tones were little more than a croak.
Here. His energy briefly ran across the edges of me, as if he were reaching out with one hand and clasping mine. I think that is what you would call a lucky break.
Yeah. But it also means Lauren was here after the police had investigated Jantz’s apartment—otherwise, it would have taken them out rather than almost getting us. And that meant it might be worth pulling up the security tapes to see who had entered Jantz’s apartment after he’d been reported missing. Unless, of course, Lauren had used magic to get in and out of the apartment. If she’d known Jantz well enough to either use his name and identity or employ him to pick up her parcels, then she would have been familiar with his place. Magicking in and out in that case certainly wouldn’t have proved a problem.
I shifted my still-tingling particles enough to see the building. On the seventh floor, where Jantz’s apartment had been, there was now a huge, gaping hole. The apartments above and below had sustained some damage, but not as much as I’d expected from the force of the explosion. Or maybe it just seemed huge because we’d been energy ourselves. Smoke and dust billowed through the shattered remains of the glass doors, though from where I was, I couldn’t see flames. Sirens were going off everywhere, and people were evacuating both Jantz’s building and the buildings on either side, running down the pavement, away from the destruction.
If that is the case, there might not be anything in that apartment to find. Maybe it was Jantz himself who was the danger.
Possibly. But we should—
—check what is left of that apartment, just in case any fires within destroy what the blast did not, he finished, resignation heavy in his mental tones. Are you sure you’re feeling up to it? It has not been an easy few days and your energy levels are yet to recover, despite both our revive session and the sleep you’ve had.
Revive session—what a nondescript way of putting great sex.
Amusement ran through his thoughts. Economy of words is always best when even the most descriptive of sentences could never do justice to what we share.
And if there’s one thing that’s been a constant since you arrived on the scene, it’s your economy with words. I forced myself upward. Pain slivered through my particles, but it was distant, dull. No major damage, I gathered, though I suspected I might have one hell of a headache when I finally regained human form.
We went back to the apartment, slipping quickly through the smoke and into the ruins of the once beautiful main living area. Everything that had survived was little more than broken, scorched bits. Even the marble floors were blackened and cracked. There wasn’t much hope of finding anything here.
I drifted into the bedroom. Though this room had sustained less damage than the living room, a fire was beginning to burn here, and it was catching fast. I did a quick look around but didn’t see anything more than the last time. I retreated and moved to the rear of the apartment.
There’s less damage here, Azriel commented. It does look as if the bomb had been positioned to take out whoever disarmed the security system.
And that suggests maybe Jantz disappeared of his own accord and this bomb was a security measure on Lauren’s part, just in case he came back.
Possibly.
I still think there has to be something here. Something we’ve missed.
If there was something to be found in the living area, then there is little chance of recovering it.
I know. Just as I knew the only way I might be able to feel something was to regain human form. I swung around, studying the floors and walls. There were no gaping holes and, aside from a few cracks, nothing to indicate that any of the walls in this area was in immediate danger of collapse. The smoke and the fire were both a threat, but if I was quick, it should be okay.
Let me re-form first, Azriel said, and immediately did so. I watched, body tense—or as tense as energy particles could be—waiting for something to happen. For the broken building to react in some way or for some spell or demon to materialize.
Nothing did.
He glanced at me and nodded. I
called to the Aedh, felt her sweep through me, and in very little time I was standing beside Azriel. A heartbeat after that, the air—thick with dust and smoke and heat—caught in my throat and sent me into a coughing fit. But as I half bent over, trying to get clean air into my lungs, I felt it—a sliver of dark energy. One I’d felt before, and which belonged to our sorceress.
“This is insane,” Azriel growled. “You shouldn’t—”
“There is something here,” I cut in hoarsely. “Some sort of magic.”
He frowned. “I cannot feel anything beyond your discomfort.”
“That doesn’t make it any less here.” I stood upright, but the minute I did, the sensation went away. All I could feel was the thick dust; all I could hear was the crackle of fire, the groan of broken walls, and the wail of sirens drawing close. I frowned, bent over again, and the sensation reappeared. “This way.”
I followed the tenuous trail out of the bedroom, stepping over chunks of marble and concrete, trying not to breathe in too much of the dust and smoke. My throat burned, and I needed water badly, but there was no way I’d leave this place until I found whatever that slight tease of magic was.
The trail led into the small laundry, of all places. I paused, looking around, trying to pinpoint the sliver of darkness. After a moment, I moved to the cupboard near the washer/dryer. When I opened the door, a laundry hamper slid out, half-filled with shirts, undies, and socks. Somewhat reluctantly, wishing I had some gloves so I didn’t have to touch used undies with bare hands, I fished around. My fingertips soon brushed something solid near the bottom. I caught it and pulled it out.
“As dark magic goes, that pair of trousers looks particularly unthreatening,” Azriel commented.
“Don’t they just.” They also felt rather heavy. I explored each of the pockets and, from the last one, pulled out a phone. Its surface crawled with the dark sensation of magic. I handed it to Azriel, then tossed the pants back into the hamper. “Can you feel it?”
He nodded and turned the vid-phone over, studying it. “I do not believe it is spelled, as such. It simply feels as if magic has leached into its surface.”
