by Keri Arthur
Beatrice was Mike’s secretary and had been with him from the very beginning. If Mike was holding any secrets, then surely she would be aware of them—and that meant maybe she was someone Azriel should use his skills on.
“That would be great. Thanks, Mike.”
“See you at seven,” he said, and hung up.
I blew out a breath and wondered if I’d done the right thing. Time really was tight—did I really need to be wasting it on the slight chance that Mike might just lead us to the sorceress?
But what other choice was there?
Every single time we’d found a clue that led us to one of the keys, the sorceress had gotten there before us, stealing the thing from under our noses. I couldn’t let her get this last one—not when all that stood between us and hell was that one remaining gate. And it was all well and good for the remnants to suggest that new ones could be built, but how long would that take?
We needed the key and we needed to place it somewhere safe—not just safe from the likes of Hunter and the sorceress, but safe from anyone else who might fancy themselves as the king or queen of hell, now or in the future.
But maybe before we did any of that, it would be better to track down and take out the sorceress. At least then there would be one less nutter for us to worry about.
I swung away from the window and ordered some food from the kitchen downstairs, then began to pace. There wasn’t a whole lot else I could do, not until Azriel got back or Stane came up with a list of possible locations for us to check out.
I’d finished a second can of Coke and was just scooping up a last bit of chocolate cake by the time energy and heat stirred the air, signifying Azriel’s return. I dumped the plate on the desk and swung around to face him, my gaze sweeping him to make sure he was okay.
“I am whole and unhurt,” he said immediately, amusement in his voice and his expression warm. “But I do thank you for the concern, even if it was not really required in this instance.”
“Hey, when you’re dealing with a dark sorceress, even the most innocent of quests could turn deadly.” I tugged him closer and dropped a kiss on his lips. “Did anything untoward happen?”
“Unfortunately, no.” He wrapped his arms loosely around my waist. “He didn’t call anyone, nor did he appear overly anxious after your call. He certainly didn’t leave.”
“Damn.”
“Yes. I did try to read the secretary’s thoughts, but she is another of those rare people I cannot access.”
“We seem to be striking more than our fair share of those types of people in this quest,” I grouched.
“Yes, but remember, the Aedh had been on this earth for a very long time before you came along. He had the time to gather those necessary to his cause, and—given his knowledge of who and what would be involved in any search for the key before he was sent back in time—that would include people a Mijai could not read.”
I smiled up at him. “You do know Lucian’s dead, right?”
He frowned, his confusion evident. “I cannot see the point of that question.”
Of course he couldn’t, because reapers supposedly didn’t do emotion, particularly jealousy. “Well, being dead, he’s no longer a rival or a threat. Surely that means you can actually say his name now.”
Amusement briefly flirted with his lips. “Actually, I don’t believe I can. Or, at least, I have no desire to grace the air with his foul presence, even if it is something as simple as giving him the courtesy of a name.”
Since I couldn’t really argue with that sentiment, I said, “Do you think I should still meet with Mike for dinner tonight, as planned? I mean, if he’s shown no concern over my questions, maybe his links with Sands and the others are innocent.”
“They possibly are, but we cannot afford to ignore any link right now, no matter how tenuous.” He shrugged. “Unless you wish to arrange for someone to watch him twenty-four hours a day, there is little else we can do but meet him tonight and see if his files lead anywhere else.”
“They won’t if he’s involved.” Or they’d take us off on some wild-goose chase.
“Either way, unless Stane comes through with a short list of key locations, we must pursue every possible lead we can. Especially given we have no idea which lead could take us to our dark sorceress—and as you noted, it would be far better to deal with her before we found the key than after.”
“Finding her is the whole problem,” I muttered. “It’s a shame hell did not seem to impede her in any way.”
“She is a dark sorceress,” Azriel noted, with a trace of amusement. “It gives her a far greater understanding of that place than even we reapers have.”
I guessed it did—but it still didn’t stop me from wishing that hell had provided at least some impediment. Even a few weeks could have made the difference for us. I sighed and stepped away. “So what next?”
Just as Azriel opened his mouth to reply, my phone rang sharply.
“Answering that, obviously.”
I smiled and hit the Answer button. Kiandra’s image came up on the vid-screen. “Risa,” she said, by way of hello. “I’ve spoken to a witch capable of psychometry, and she is willing to attempt a trace of the cuff link’s owner.”
“That’s brilliant! Thank you.”
Kiandra nodded. “Her name is Maggie Stiller, and she runs Found Treasures, a small lost-and-found business in the city. You can visit her anytime you desire during normal business hours.”
“I have to say, that’s a perfect occupation for someone with a finding skill.”
“Yes,” Kiandra said, with a smile. “She does make a very decent living out of it, too. However, there is no guarantee she will be able to help you with the cuff link’s owner. Given we are dealing with a dark sorceress, she more than likely would be aware of such an eventuality and have measures in place to take care of it.”
I frowned. “And is Maggie aware of this?”
“Yes. I would not ask this task of anyone without providing full disclosure of who and what might be involved.”
Fair enough. “I’ll head down there now. We seem to be at something of a standstill at the moment.”
“That,” Kiandra said, her expression grim, “will not last.”
A chill ran through me. I knew well enough that sooner or later we’d be up to our necks in deadlines and trouble, but hearing Kiandra say it—or rather, hearing the heaviness and perhaps even the touch of fear in her voice—was as scary as all hell breaking loose.
“The next nineteen hours will make or break your cause, and our world,” she continued softly. “Be wary, both of you, or all will be lost.”
I nodded. I couldn’t do anything else right at that moment—fear and panic and an almost overwhelming sense of doom had my throat locked so tight, words just couldn’t get through.
“And while I think about it,” she added, “Rozelle mentioned that you’d found a second barrier in the basement of that warehouse that she didn’t have the skill to counter.”
Rozelle was one the Brindle’s trainee witches, and the woman who’d helped weave an exception into the magic protecting that warehouse so that Azriel could enter it without harm. “We did, but it’s undoubtedly dangerous—”
“Which only means,” she cut in, “that it is also undoubtedly vital. No sorceress would waste energy creating such a strong barrier if there was nothing worthy of protection within. I have assigned a team to it.”
“Did Rozelle also tell you that our sorceress is a multishifter who can take on any form she desires? She could approach them as me, or even you, and they’d never know until it was too late.”
Kiandra smiled, and it was a dangerous thing to behold. “Trust me, she would not want to try. She is not the only one with a trick or two up her sleeve.”
And that, I thought with a shiver, was the reason why Kiandra was the head of the Brindle.
“I just don’t want anyone else in the line of fire because of me—”
“It is not b
ecause of you, but rather this quest. You fail, and it will not go well for the rest of us.”
I swallowed heavily. Nothing like having your fears so boldly out in the open. “Then I guess I’d better not fail.”
“That sounds like a rather good plan.” She smiled a good-bye—though it did little to break the concern in her eyes—and hung up. I stared at the black screen for several seconds before slowly shoving it back in my pocket.
“Well,” I said eventually. “That sucks.”
“Yes,” Azriel commented. “But it might well be worth uncovering what lies behind that wall.”
“I know.” I waved a hand. “I was referring to her confirmation of our time-frame limitations.”
He shrugged. “Think of the shorter time frame as a benefit rather than a curse. At least it means we can move on with a life together once we survive it.”
“Yeah, but it’s the whole ‘surviving it’ bit that has me worried.” I eyed him for a moment. “It’s not like you’ve been overly effusive about the possibility, now, is it?”
“That’s because, as you say in this world, I refuse to count my chickens before they hatch.”
“Or because you’re more intimate with fate’s plans than what you’re saying, and even you’re not sure we’ll both survive.”
“There is also that possibility,” he agreed. “But you can be certain that I will not only do all in my power to ensure you survive, but that I am here to enjoy the oncoming years beside you.”
Yeah, but would the fates come to the party as well? That was the question that worried the hell out of me. Especially given that Azriel wasn’t giving any ironclad guarantees.
“Because no life, either here or on the fields, ever comes with an ironclad guarantee,” he said softly, “simply because life is a series of intersections and alternate pathways. What path you take not only depends on your actions and decisions, but also on every action and decision of all those who come into your life—however peripherally.”
“Meaning our future lies in the hands of a mad sorceress set on unleashing hell on earth, and the bloodsucking disciple of a god getting orgasmic at the thought of ultimate power?” I muttered. “Fabulous not, as Amaya would say.”
Just kill, Amaya commented. Fix problem.
I couldn’t help laughing, even as I wished the answer was that simple. I Googled Found Treasures to get the address and realized it was on Therry Street, just near the organics section of the Victoria Market. I raised my gaze to Azriel. “Can you take us there?”
He nodded. “The image of the market is clear enough in your mind to allow transport.”
“Good.” I grabbed my handbag, then stepped into his waiting arms. “Onward, dear reaper.”
He zapped us out of there. Therry Street wasn’t all that crowded, thanks to the fact that the market closed at two on Thursdays and it was close to that now. I stepped away from Azriel and scanned the nearby buildings, looking for building numbers. After a moment I spotted one; Found Treasures was closer to the Elizabeth Street end. We headed there in silence, our shoulders occasionally brushing and the sounds of the stallholders packing up for the day ringing all around us. Normal, everyday sounds in a life that had become far from normal. And in many ways, it was never going to be normal again—not only was I in love with a reaper, but I also carried his child.
“What are we going to do once this is over?” I said abruptly.
He glanced at me, one eyebrow raised. “Live and love and raise our child.”
“But you’re a reaper—a Mijai. You can’t walk away from that, can you?”
“No, I can’t, especially now, when there is only one portal remaining between hell, the fields, and here.”
“So how can you live here and yet be there? You may be an extraordinary being, Azriel, but you cannot be in two places at once.”
He half smiled, but there was a seriousness in his eyes that suggested he’d been thinking about this very question for some time. I guess it was pretty typical that it had only just occurred to me.
“Being a Mijai simply means that when there is trouble, I will be called away. I am a warrior, and like the soldiers of this world, I will answer the call to arms when it comes.”
“So when there is no such call, you can be here?”
His smile grew, crinkling the corners of his bright eyes. “This is where both my Caomh and my son will be—do you really expect me to be anywhere else?”
“Well, you do have a family—”
“Who, aside from my sister’s appearance when Jak died, I have not seen in aeons.”
“Who,” I added, ignoring him, “I would very much like to meet. You once told me that family means everything to reapers, Azriel. I want our son to be a part of not just my family, but yours as well.”
“Using our son like that,” he said, voice even despite the flash of annoyance in his eyes, “is what I would believe you’d call playing dirty.”
“Hey, if it overcomes your stubborn determination to set yourself apart from your family—a decision you made because you were ashamed of your fall from grace more than they were—then it’s worth it.”
“You have no idea what my family does and doesn’t think—”
“Neither do you,” I cut in. “But if your family was so ashamed, I very much doubt your sister would have answered your plea for someone to come and collect Jak’s soul. Especially if stubbornness runs in the family.”
“I can see it running in our family,” he all but muttered. “And may the fates help me if our son has acquired even a portion of yours, not to mention your determination to stick your nose into the business of others.”
I grinned. “Ah, but your business is now my business. That’s what being a couple means here on good old Earth.” I stopped as we reached a pretty, purple painted sign that said, in a whimsical sort of font, “Found Treasures.” The shop itself was a tiny space squeezed in between two larger shops. It had a small window barely two feet wide and an ornate wooden door that was currently open. A gaily colored string curtain hung in the doorway, swaying softly in the slight breeze. “And here we are.”
He brushed aside the curtain and ushered me inside. The air in the small shop was rich with the scents of sandalwood—a scent from my childhood, as Mom had used it to help calm the minds of her clients—as well as bergamot and clove, both of which provided protection from negative or harmful forces. In this case, however, I doubted they’d be of much help, given we were dealing with the ultimate of negative forces—a dark practitioner.
The shop itself consisted of little more than a cloth-covered round table and several comfortable chairs. The walls were painted in a soothing green but otherwise bare, and the floor was a mix of old rugs and polished floorboards. Again, it very much reminded me of my mother’s workroom, and a pang of regret and sorrow ran through me. Her soul might have moved on to be reborn, but—because I was destined to become a dark angel—mine would not. Which meant that I’d never have the chance to see her again—unless, of course, sometime in the future, when my life here had ended and my life as a Mijai had begun, I could find her. Maybe even talk to her.
That wasn’t too much to hope for, was it?
Azriel, unsurprisingly, remained mute on that particular subject.
The curtain at the far end of the room was pushed aside, and a pretty blond woman in her midthirties entered. Though she gave us a welcoming smile, her brown eyes scanned us both somewhat critically. I very much suspected that she knew in that instant who we were and why we were there. She didn’t look the type to miss much.
“And how can I help you this lovely afternoon?” she said, her voice warm and mellow.
“Maggie Stiller?” When she nodded, I smiled and held out my hand. “I’m Risa Jones. I believe Kiandra has been in contact with you about helping me locate the owner of a cuff link.”
“Ah yes.” She waved a hand at the small table. “Please, be seated.”
I did, but Azriel remained standin
g behind me. Maggie closed and locked the door, slipped an “Open Again Soon” sign in the window, then lit four white candles, each one centered in a corner and surrounded by a series of black stones. Warding stones. That there were so many meant she’d taken Kiandra’s warning seriously. As any sensible witch would, I guess.
When she was finally seated opposite me, I said, “Is that going to be enough to protect us?”
She shrugged. “Under normal circumstances, yes, but we are dealing with a dark sorceress, and I daresay she is far more capable in the art of magic than I am. I am a seeker of the lost, not a witch of any true power.”
I frowned. “Then why put yourself at risk like this? I’m sure we could—”
“Psychometry is not an everyday skill,” she cut in, her expression as gentle as her voice. “And there is no one else in this city who has both the skill and the knowledge to at least provide some means of protection against any possible attack.”
I bit my lip and studied her worriedly. I didn’t want to get anyone else either hurt or dead because of this damn quest, but, by the same token, we really didn’t have another option. If there had been, Kiandra would have given it to us.
Maggie reached across the table and pressed her hand over mine. “This is important, is it not?”
“It could be, but—”
“Then we shall proceed,” she cut in again. “Please, give me the cuff link.”
I hesitated, then slowly retrieved it from my handbag and placed it in her waiting hand. Her fingers closed around it, and she frowned. “This piece has a very nasty feel to it—though I guess that isn’t really surprising given who it may belong to.” She rolled it around in her fingers for a minute; then she glanced up at Azriel. “Be on guard. There is undoubtedly a spell on this item, but I cannot sense what type it is. If the wards fail, you will need to protect us all.”
Azriel nodded, something I sensed rather than saw. Maggie took a deep breath, then pressed the cuff link between the palms of both hands and closed her eyes. For a long time, nothing seemed to happen. Then she twitched and frowned. “I see . . . many people. Men and women, all different, all the same.” Maggie hesitated, her agitation increasing. “Her soul is bitter, dark. I see . . . I see a connection to you, one that goes back to your very birth and beyond.”
