by Keri Arthur
“Will she sense it?” I asked, briefly diverting my attention away from the shelving.
“Not unless she suddenly decides to appear.” Rozelle handed one of the bottles to the taller witch. “Though she will sense the destruction of the ritual table when we split it asunder.”
“You split it?” I said, surprised.
She nodded. “Once we deactivate the spells that still protect it, yes. It is the heart of the stone that holds the power; destroying it will render the stone unusable not only for her, but for future generations.”
“Good.” Especially when it meant there was one less means of dark magic and mayhem in this world.
“Risa,” Azriel said. He was studying a row of glass jars on the shelving opposite. “You might want to come and look at these. They have a very familiar resonance.”
“Familiar as in me or someone else?”
He glanced at me, expression grim. “Both.”
I walked across and stopped beside him. The jars that had caught his interest looked far newer than any of the others that sat nearby. Those were covered in a thick layer of dust and obviously hadn’t been touched for years, if not decades. Of the four jars that had caught Azriel’s interest, two had a light coating of dust that was smudged in various places, indicating more recent usage. The other two had a heavier coating, but it was nowhere near the thickness of the other jars on the shelf. Unfortunately, the glass was smoky, making it difficult to see the contents.
“The resonance from the recently used jars is an echo of your own,” Azriel said. “The other two are reminiscent of your mother.”
So she had been spelled. There could be no other reason for her resonance to linger in these jars. I blinked away the tears that were both remorse and anger, and glanced at Rozelle. “There’s no spell lingering on these things, is there? They’re safe to pick up?”
Rozelle nodded, her concentration more on the water line she was creating around the base of the stairs. “The only magic that now resides in this chamber is that within the ritual table.”
“Thanks.” I plucked the nearest bottle off the shelf and unscrewed the lid.
Inside sat a solitary earring. It was simple in design—a perfectly circular dark pearl in a gold setting. I couldn’t remember ever seeing Mom wearing something like this, but maybe Mike had stolen it when I was little more than a baby. I tipped it out into my palm and for an instant heard an echo of my mother’s warm laugh, felt the kiss of lips across my cheek. Impossible, I knew, because she’d long ago moved on.
Not so impossible, Azriel said, mental tone soft. Not when her resonance lingers.
And this solitary earring, I realized suddenly, was the only piece of her jewelry I had left. Everything else she’d left me had been stored in the safe at our apartment and was now little more than a sprinkling of dust in a hole filled with ash and destruction.
Yet I couldn’t regret my actions and certainly wouldn’t have altered them even if I had a chance to do it all again. Mom lived on in my memories and in my heart, not in material things. And she would be the first to call me foolish for mourning the loss of such unimportant things as jewelry.
Still . . .
I closed my fist around the earring, holding on to it fiercely as I reached for the next jar. This one held more personal items—hair, nail clippings, and several other bits and pieces that I couldn’t actually guess at. But these sorts of items were all used in placing a geas or spell on someone.
I swore softly and handed the jar to Azriel. He shoved Valdis’s tip into it, and in very little time, the contents were ash. Mom might be dead, but I still wasn’t about to risk leaving the things in that jar here. If it was possible for the Raziq to call me back from the dead, then it was also very possible that Lauren could do the same. She’d been hanging around Lucian long enough to learn at least enough Aedh magic to get herself onto the gray fields without his aid, so heaven only knew what else he’d taught her.
As Azriel placed the jar back on the shelf, I reached for the first of the more recently used ones—and wasn’t exactly surprised to find it contained hair, nail clippings, and whatnot. I gave it across to Azriel, then opened the second jar. Silver gleamed back at me from the bottom of it. I frowned, tipped it into my palm, and realized with a sense of shock that it was a baby’s bracelet. My baby bracelet. I’d seen pictures of it over the years and had eventually asked Mom what had happened to it. She’d shrugged and said she had no idea. And maybe she didn’t. Maybe she’d handed it over to Mike at some point and then had been prompted to forget about it.
I stared at it for a moment, then took a deep breath and released it slowly. I couldn’t keep it, as much as I might want to. Just as I couldn’t keep Mom’s earring, no matter how much I might want to. The earrings might not have any sort of spell on them, but they’d been in Lauren’s possession for a long time, and I had no idea whether she could trace me through either of them. Better to be safe than sorry. I dangled them into Valdis’s flames and watched the silver and pearl slowly disintegrate, until there was nothing left.
I resolutely turned away and inspected the rest of the shelves. I couldn’t see anything else of either mine or Mom’s.
I glanced at Azriel, and he shook his head. “Which does not mean she has nothing else of yours, just that it is not kept within this ritual room.”
I swung around and said to Rozelle, “Would she have more than one ritual room?”
“No.” She drew her athame from the second of the bags, then met my gaze. “It takes strength and time for a sorceress to attune such a table to her psyche.”
“Does that mean she can’t create spells wherever the hell she currently is, or simply that she can’t create any major spells?”
“The latter. If the spell involves blood magic, then it must be performed here, on this table. Other magic—and not necessarily minor—she can perform anywhere she can create the appropriate protection circle.”
“Damn.”
“Indeed.” Her smile was grim. “However, the destruction of the table will impinge on both her strength and her ability to perform any sort of magic. Which is why we must hasten its destruction.”
“Then we’ll get out of your way.” I hesitated. “You do remember you’re dealing with someone capable of taking on any form, don’t you?”
Her smile grew, though there was still very little in the way of amusement in it. “Which is why the very first thing we did, before we even attempted to access this room, was create a spell that was not only a barrier against evil, but would reveal the true form of anyone coming into this basement.”
“Which won’t stop a human type of assassin coming down here and shooting the lot of you.”
“It does when we are guarded against all evil—human or otherwise.” She half shrugged. “It is not dissimilar to the magic that guards the Brindle.”
“Then good luck with the table destruction.”
“Luck is not something the Brindle has ever relied on,” the taller witch commented. “It is far too fickle a beast.”
Well, that was certainly true. We headed out of the basement and went back through the warehouse, until we were once again standing outside. I stretched weary limbs, but before I could say anything, my phone rang. The tone told me it was Uncle Rhoan, and my stomach tensed again. Even if he’d said he’d track down what information the Directorate had on Lauren’s other aliases, there was something deep within me that said two calls in such a short amount of time could not be good.
I dug out my vid-phone, hit the Answer button, then said, voice holding a false note of cheer, “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon.”
“And I certainly wasn’t expecting to call again so soon.” His voice was as grim as his expression.
The tension ratcheted up several notches. “I’m gathering there’s a problem?”
“You could say that.” His expression became grimmer—fiercer—though I hadn’t thought that was possible. “Jack’s gone missing.�
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Chapter 9
Surely to god Hunter wouldn’t have . . . not to Jack. Not to her own brother. I swallowed heavily and said, “What do you mean, he’s missing?”
“Missing as in out of contact and untraceable by any known method,” Rhoan growled. “Missing as in, we can’t find either him or his tracer signal fucking anywhere.”
Holy fuck, she had. Which meant she was even more insane than I’d figured.
“I’m gathering Hunter has been contacted and asked if she knew where he was?”
“Ringing her was the first thing I ordered when it came to my attention he was missing. She doesn’t deny that he was with her but says she has no idea where he is now.”
Thank god he’d asked someone else to ring her rather than confronting her himself. “And you believe her?”
He snorted. “No, but I have no evidence to the contrary, and I’m not fool enough to make any sort of accusation until I do.”
“Is there any security footage anywhere of him? Perhaps coming in or out of her office?”
“They didn’t meet in her office; he went to her house. There’s no security footage because Hunter had all cameras removed not too long ago.”
Meaning this step had been planned for a quite a while—and yet, knowing that didn’t make me feel any better. Jack had gone to see Hunter basically because I’d pushed; if he was dead, then in some ways it was my fault.
You cannot take the blame for the actions and choices of others, Azriel said. Jack’s decision to talk to Hunter stemmed from both his desire to keep the Directorate autonomous in the battle he knew was coming and his need to protect both your uncle and the other guardians. Your comments only confirmed what his next course of action should be.
Yeah, but he might still be alive if he hadn’t actually decided to go right away.
Given Hunter’s recent cleansing of council members who oppose her, that is a debatable point.
I guessed it was. It still didn’t make me feel any better, though. I returned my attention to Rhoan. “If Hunter has either killed Jack or simply contained him somewhere to take him out of action, she can’t be too far from making her move for total control. And that puts you in a very tenuous position.”
“A point I am well aware of, believe me.”
“Then you’re going to do the sensible thing?”
He snorted again. “You ask that, and you’ve known me how long?”
“I know, but Hunter is a bigger threat—”
“I will do my job,” he cut in, “and now that Jack has disappeared, that’s running the guardian division. The only reason I’m ringing you is to let you know what has happened. Be careful, Ris. If she’s done this, she could do anything.”
I wasn’t the one who needed to be wary. She still needed me to find the key. She didn’t need him, other than as a lever to ensure my good behavior.
“Trust me, I’m totally aware of what she’s capable of. Just make sure you watch your back.”
“I’m surrounded by people I trust at this very moment. You just make sure you’re doing the same. Don’t let Azriel leave your side.”
“I won’t,” I said.
“Good,” Rhoan said. “Ring me if anything happens.”
“I will.” I hit the End button and glanced at Azriel. “Do you think it’s possible Jack is still alive?”
He hesitated, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I cannot hear his resonance, but that doesn’t mean he’s dead. It might just mean he’s being kept underground, where I cannot sense him.”
“I guess we can only hope that’s the case.” Though I personally feared it wasn’t. I thrust a hand through my still-curly hair and added silently, Do you think it’s worth contacting Markel, to see if he knows anything more?
I doubt Markel would, given he is tasked with following you around. Harry Stanford, however, might be an option.
Except that he’ll use Jack’s death as a means to entice me into his plot.
It is nevertheless worth talking to him. If someone would have any understanding of Hunter’s current moves, it would be her fiercest opponent.
I guess. But to talk to him, I had to go back to the office and get comfortable. It was the only way I could astral travel.
Azriel caught my hand, tugged me into his arms, and a second later we were back in the café’s office.
“Fucking hell,” a familiar voice said. “You could give a person warning when you’re going to drop in like that!”
I swung around. Tao stood in the doorway, his brown hair wet, a towel half slung over his right shoulder, and his expression a mix of surprise and amusement. At first glance, little appeared to have outwardly changed since I’d seen him just over nine hours ago; his face was still gaunt, his body rail thin, and heat radiated from him, the force of it so strong that I could feel its caress from where I stood in the middle of the room. But flames no longer burned uncontrolled in his eyes, and the air of desperation that had surrounded him seemed to have fled.
“You’re okay,” I said, and it was a statement rather than a question.
“I am,” he agreed. “How long it will last, I have no idea, but for now, we’re good.”
We, not I. That was a new and hopeful sign. “What happened?”
“I did what you suggested I do. I went back to the sacred site and talked to the elemental.” His brief smile was almost a grimace. “It wasn’t easy, but we got there in the end. You were right, Azriel. It doesn’t want to die. It just wants to protect the fire that gave it life.”
“So you have reached a compromise?” Azriel asked.
“We have. One I think we could both live with.”
“And that is?” I prompted, when he didn’t immediately go on.
“I have the days. It has the nights.”
“What?” I said, surprised. “I would have thought it would be the other way around, given it draws energy from heat and sunlight.”
“There may be neither at night, but there is the sacred fire. Not only is it the source of the elemental’s power, but it is also most vulnerable at night. Therefore, we’ll be there at night to protect it, and I’ll have the days.”
“So why are you here now? It’s nine thirty and nighttime.”
“I came back here to grab a shower and to leave you a note. I wanted to let you know I was okay—that we were okay. Then I was heading back out.”
“To do what?” I said. “I mean, there’s nothing up there but wilderness and the fire.”
“The elemental doesn’t need anything else,” he said, expression gentle.
“So when you’re up there, the elemental is in control?”
“Yes, but I am not unaware, just as it is not unaware during the day.” He lifted a hand. His skin briefly glowed with a deep orange fire. “I can still have a life, Ris, even if it is one that wasn’t what I’d quite imagined.”
Half a life was better than no life. Or worse, losing yourself forever in the fires of another creature. I walked over and gave him a hug. “Be careful up there, won’t you?”
He returned the hug fiercely, then brushed a kiss across the top of my head. “I will. And I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Hopefully, yes.”
He frowned and stepped back. “And what, precisely, is that supposed to mean?”
I waved a hand. “Nothing. This whole key quest thing is just getting me down.”
“If I can help in any way—”
“I know.” I squeezed his arm. His peace with the elemental was too new, too fragile, to even think about bringing him back into the quest, even if I had wanted to.
Which I didn’t.
“I have my phone with me, so if I don’t answer it immediately, leave a message,” he said. “You know I’ll be there if I can.”
“I know. And thank you.” I kissed his cheek. “Go, before the elemental starts getting antsy.”
He turned and went. I listened to the sound of his retreating steps, and though part of me rejoiced that he’d f
ound a solution that enabled him to live, part of me also felt like crying. Because nothing was ever going to be the same. The tight-knit group we’d grown up with had fractured, ever so slightly, and it couldn’t ever go back to what it was. The events of the last few weeks had changed us all, and not entirely for the better.
“I do hope I’m not included in the ‘not entirely better’ portion of that thought,” Azriel said, amusement in his voice.
“You, reaper,” I said, as I turned and headed for the sofa, “generally have a foot in both fields, depending on where my hormones are at the time.”
“Then it is your hormones that are the problem, not me.”
I kicked off my shoes and lay down. “You’re the reason the hormones are going haywire, though.”
“Hardly the only reason,” he said, the amusement stronger. “It does, after all, take two to make a life, whether in this world or in mine.”
“Yeah, but you could have warned me your rockets were such fertile little buggers.”
The amusement faded from him. “Do you regret it? The pregnancy, that is?”
I shot him a surprised look. “Hell, no. I’ve always wanted kids. I could have done with the time to get to know you better, but aside from that, no regrets.”
“Ah. Good.” His relief ran through me, bright and shiny—an indication of just how important my answer had been to him.
“Azriel, you can read my mind. Surely you knew that whatever else I might regret, the pregnancy wasn’t one of them.”
“One of the side effects of sharing my life force with you is your ability to now shield some portions of your thoughts from me.” He gave me a lopsided smile. “Your feeling on the pregnancy was one such thought.”
I frowned. “I wasn’t doing it intentionally.”
“Perhaps not, but it was nevertheless a source of tension for me.”
“Well, you should have just asked. It’s not like you haven’t been vocal about all sorts of other things.”
“But if I had, I might have received an answer I did not desire. I would rather face ten hordes of demons than the knowledge that you did not want our child.”
