by Keri Arthur
And with that, she hung up. I blew out a breath and tossed the phone back to Stane. “Well, if there are any councillors left after she’s done chastising them, I’ll be very surprised.”
“That would be no great loss, from what I’ve seen of them,” Stane commented. “So that search you wanted on your accountant.”
I walked across the room, grabbed a chair, and sat down. I had a bad feeling I didn’t want to be standing when Stane told me the search results. “And?”
“And, as I said, it’s not good news.” He tapped the screen in front of him, then flicked some images across to the screen nearest me. Two were birth certificates, the other a passport document. The name on one of the certificates was Michael Judd; the name on the other two was not.
“Michael Greenfield?” I glanced at Stane. “Are you saying Mike is the missing Michael Greenfield?”
“It would certainly appear that way,” Stane said, voice grim. “And if he is, he was born in London over a hundred and twenty years ago.”
“What?” I stared at him in disbelief. “Mike can’t be that old!”
“If he is our shape-shifter,” Azriel commented, “then he can make himself appear whatever age he might wish.”
“I guess.” I frowned. “Although surely the strain of holding so many different forms and creating so much magic should show.”
“The Aedh was his partner in crime, remember, and more than likely responsible for much of the magic used against us,” Azriel said. “Besides, did you not note that Mike appeared to have aged somewhat when you met him in that restaurant?”
“Yes.” I shrugged and glanced back at Stane. “What makes you think he’s Greenfield?”
“Too many coincidences.” He tapped Michael Judd’s birth certificate. “There’s nothing untoward in Judd’s records until he hit the age of twenty-four. He took a year off university to ‘find himself,’ and promptly disappeared for several months.”
“That’s not exactly unusual,” I commented. “Lots of kids have a gap year before going to uni.”
“Yeah, but Judd disappeared in the middle of his courses. And certainly not all of those who take a year off so completely disappear that they don’t use their bank accounts or credit cards for six months.”
I raised my eyebrows. “So what happened?”
“His dad was a prominent—and well-connected—businessman, so his disappearance was given widespread publicity. As was his sudden reappearance.”
“How did he explain going so completely off the grid?”
“He simply said he was living off the land with a lady friend and didn’t need to access any of his accounts.”
I glanced at Azriel. “I wonder if the lady friend was our shape-shifting sorceress?”
“It would seem likely,” Azriel said. “And I would imagine that six months would provide ample time to learn someone’s mannerisms and habits.”
“I’d imagine so.” I glanced at the date stamped on the passport image and did the math. “His disappearance happened a year and a half after Greenfield came into the country.”
“Yes, but the timing gets even more interesting,” Stane said. “Six months before Michael Judd went on a walkabout with a mysterious woman, Greenfield become acquainted with one Edward Judd—Michael’s father.”
He flicked another image across to my screen. Shock rolled through me, and for several seconds I couldn’t even speak. All I could do was stare at the screen and the all-too-familiar figure standing with the much younger Mike and two other men I didn’t recognize.
“The Aedh,” Azriel growled. “More and more I regret my decision not to kill him the very moment I met him.”
“More and more I’m regretting the very same thing,” I muttered. I glanced back at Stane. “Who is the fourth man in that picture? I take it the one with his arm around Michael’s shoulder is Edward Judd?”
Stane nodded. “The article that pic was attached to said Lucian and Judd were partners in an importing business. The other man is, according to this particular newspaper article, James Bentley.”
“Who is?”
“The article didn’t actually say, so I did a side search on the man. He was a long-term friend of the family and was also Edward’s business adviser.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Was?”
Stane nodded. “He disappeared not long after Michael Judd’s reappearance. His family had him declared dead via a court order nine years later, though his body was never found.”
“If he’d known the family for so long, maybe he suspected the Michael that reappeared was not the real deal.”
“It’s more than possible,” Stane agreed. “Especially given Michael was the last person to see James alive.”
Considering there was a very good chance Michael Greenfield had become Michael Judd, it was more than possible that not only was he the last person to see James alive, but also the reason he disappeared. “Did the police ever question him?”
“According to the newspaper articles, yes. I tried to track down the official police interview report, but I’m afraid they just don’t keep records that far back anymore. Not for people who have been declared dead, anyway.”
“When did Greenfield—via Pénombre Manufacturing—purchase that warehouse?”
“Not long after he’d arrived in Australia, apparently.”
I frowned. “Why buy it, then not use it? That makes no sense.”
“But he was using it,” Azriel commented. “He might not have had his dark altar there, but he was doing magic in the caverns under that place.”
That was certainly true. And, given that, maybe it was also true of other buildings. “Did Greenfield or Pénombre purchase any other buildings?”
Stane smiled. “Pénombre didn’t, but Greenfield certainly did.” He flicked another image over to my screen. It was a list of about half a dozen locations. “He actually bought more than these, but they’ve either been sold to legitimate people, or the buildings were razed, apartments built on the land, and then sold.”
“Legitimate meaning you’ve checked them out?” I said.
He nodded. “I’m still in the process with a couple of them, but I can’t immediately see or find a link back to any of our sorceress’s known identities.”
“And Michael Greenfield? Is he still in existence?”
“According to the tax department, yes, though it took some time to track him down, as he hasn’t actually filed a return for a few years now.”
“Define a few?”
“Eleven years.” He grinned. “He’s racking up some big fines to the tax man, I can tell you.”
They could only fine him if they could find him, and I somehow doubted they ever would. Mike had obviously ditched that persona. I waved a hand at the list of six. “And these?”
“Have all been sold, but most of them have, at one point or another, been in Lauren’s hands.”
“So definitely a connection.” I studied them for a moment, then frowned. “That place out at Altona North—who’s that registered to now?”
He glanced at his screen for a second, then said, “A Mrs. Margaret Kendrick.”
“A name I’ve seen before,” I said, voice resigned. “Mike had her folder on his desk one time when I visited him. He told me he was just updating her records.”
“He keeps paper records?”
I frowned. “Yeah, and I’ve already told you that.”
“Did you? Sorry.” He grinned. “Maybe the shock of someone doing it the old-fashioned way just erased it from my memory.”
I snorted softly. “I’m gathering the Altona North place is still a working warehouse?”
He nodded. “Kendrick is an importer, and interestingly, many of the companies she uses are the same ones Lucian and Judd used in their import business.”
“So we have a likely connection.” I glanced at Azriel. “And one possibly worth checking out.”
He nodded. “Although it would depend on whether or not we have a worka
ble list of possible key sites. Hunter’s deadline approaches far too fast, and we need to concentrate on our main quest rather than be sidetracked by a rogue sorceress.”
“That rogue sorceress has already beaten us twice . . .” I stopped and swore. If it was Myer rather than Markel who was currently on watch duty, then I’d just made a very major goof. I mentally crossed my fingers and added silently, I’d rather make sure she can’t get to the final key before we do.
With Lucian gone, she has no direct line to your activities.
That we know of. I’d still rather ensure she isn’t around when we find the next one.
“Weeding down that list of possible locations,” Stane said, obviously not noticing the fact I’d cut my sentence off midstream, “is an exasperating experience. The list is now just over fifty possible sites—which may not mean much to someone who can transport instantly, but it’s still going to take time to inspect each one, and some of them have pretty fierce security systems installed.”
“I can get us past security,” Azriel said.
Stane snorted. “Even you wouldn’t get past some of the latest motion sensors, my friend. Besides, as you said, you haven’t got enough time left to be fucking around.”
“But if you cannot contract that list any further, then we have no other choice.” Azriel’s voice was grim. “There is always the hope that we will find the key in the first half rather than the last.”
I snorted. “I think we had our one and only bit of luck when that gun blew up in the vamp’s hand.”
“What?” Stane said, confusion evident. “Since when did vampires need guns? They have speed and teeth on their side—why would they need anything else?”
“Maybe they thought a bullet would be a faster and more secure method of killing someone who could disappear into smoke.” I shrugged. “What about Michael Judd? What did he do once he’d made his reappearance?”
Stane grimaced. “Nothing out of the ordinary. He went back to university but switched courses, doing a master’s in finance with a major in accounting.”
“What was he doing previously?”
Stane smiled. “An arts degree in media and communication.”
“And no one commented on the rather sudden change of plans? I mean, that’s kinda a big jump.”
“Well, no one in the media commented. By that point, he was old news. We’ll never know what his old man might have said, given he died ten years ago.”
“Killed?”
“No, it was a regular old heart attack. Nothing suspicious. His estate, though, was left in its entirety to Michael rather than being spread between his wife and other three children. They contested, but it was settled out of court.”
No surprise there, given he wouldn’t have wanted the matter raising too much of a fuss in the press. I glanced at Azriel. “Why don’t we go check out that Altona North place? That gives Stane a little more time to whittle down the list.”
“If you wish.” He stood and held out a hand. “But after this, we must at least start searching the buildings that are on that list.”
“Deal.” I placed my hand in Azriel’s, then glanced back at Stane. “While your computers are running that list, I’d be connecting the security system up to the generators. Just in case.”
“Consider it done.” His voice was grim. “I have no intention of going back into that panic room unless absolutely necessary.”
“Good.” The words were barely out of my mouth when Azriel’s magic swirled around me, zipping us across to Altona North. We reappeared in the middle of a road. I blinked and looked around. On the left there was an open field, although in the distance I could see the lights of what looked to be some sort of chemical plant. To the right there were several large warehouses. There were a few cars in the parking lot, which was a surprise given that it was after ten at night. The one we wanted was slightly farther down the road and had a blue two-story office block running across the front of the larger warehouse building. There were lights on in several of the offices, although I couldn’t actually see anyone moving about.
“You may not see them,” Azriel commented, studying the warehouse intently, “but they are nevertheless there.”
“How many? And is one of them our sorceress?”
“Five, and no.” He paused, his gaze narrowing. “There is an odd sense of energy toward the rear of the building, however.”
I studied that section of the warehouse. I couldn’t see anything that appeared out of place, and I certainly wasn’t feeling anything that hinted at the presence of magic. “Shall we go investigate?”
“That is what we came here for, is it not?” He drew Valdis, then added, “Follow me.”
“You keep saying that,” I said, as I fell in step beside him. “I would have thought that by now, you’d have come to accept the impossibility of it ever happening.”
“Oh, I accept it.” He glanced at me, amusement touching his lips. “But I keep saying it in the hope that one day, you will actually do the sensible thing.”
“I wouldn’t hold your breath waiting.”
“Perhaps not,” he said. “Though it would not matter if I did, because as an energy being, I do not actually have to breathe.”
I nudged him lightly with my shoulder. “You’d get bored if I actually was sensible.”
“That is something unlikely to happen, as I can think of many, many things we could do to relieve the onset of boredom.”
I grinned. “So can I. And I bet mine would be a whole lot more imaginative than yours.”
“That is a bet I would not take if I were you.” His gaze went to the office portion of the warehouse. “Two people are about to leave for the night.”
I glanced ahead. There were no cars parked along this side of the warehouse, so we were safe from discovery. “And the other three?”
“Working.”
“So there’s no one in the warehouse at the moment?”
“That I’m not so certain of.” He touched my elbow, lightly guiding me forward again. “The strange energy is very definitely present at the rear of the building, and I cannot see past it.”
I frowned. “So is it magic, or something else?”
He hesitated. “I think it is magic, but it feels fouler—more corrupted—than anything we’ve come across so far.”
Considering we’d come across some pretty foul magic, that was saying something. We cautiously made our way down the driveway. There were two large loading bays down this side of the building, but both roller doors were down and locked. There was also a regular door at the far end of the building, with a wooden bench sitting under a nearby tree and a bin filled with rubbish and cigarette butts to one side of it. Obviously, a retreat for the smokers.
We walked across to the door and Azriel tested the handle. It turned. He glanced at me, one eyebrow raised in surprise, then carefully opened the door and slipped inside. I followed.
There were no lights on in this section of the warehouse and the air felt cool. There was also a feeling of vastness to the darkness; it almost felt as if it were one big, empty space. And yet there were shelves nearby, most of which held stock, if the odd-shaped shadows were anything to go by.
I’m not feeling anyone close by, I said. And I still can’t feel the magic. Where is it?
Ahead and down.
His fingers clasped mine; then he tugged me forward. Though our steps were whisper quiet, they nevertheless seemed to echo. Or maybe it just seemed that way because of the tension that was beginning to build within me.
Down? Meaning we’re dealing with yet another basement?
It would appear our sorceress has a penchant for them.
Well, let’s hope this one doesn’t contain any nasty surprises.
He glanced over his shoulder, his blue eyes bright in the cover of night. That is another thing I would not bet on.
I certainly wasn’t. She’d been one step ahead of us all along, so it would be stupid to think that she’d be unprepare
d when it came to her remaining bolt-holes. She had to be aware by now that we’d already destroyed—or otherwise made unusable—at least three of her ceremony and storage sites.
We continued across the vast space. As my eyes got used to the deeper darkness of this place, I realized that most of the shelves held a mix of tableware, home décor, and glassware, from all over the world. Some of the names stamped on the crates I recognized, and they were definitely upmarket. If Margaret Kendrick was another identity of Lauren’s—or Mike’s, given that we had no idea which form or sex our shape-shifter actually preferred—then she was obviously doing rather well. There was a fortune’s worth of stock sitting in this warehouse alone.
About three-quarters of the way across the warehouse, Azriel made a sharp turn left. The laden shelving towered above us and made it seem like we were walking through a canyon. Ahead a green exit sign glowed brightly at the top of a single doorway.
I frowned. That’s the rear wall of the warehouse—are we heading back out again?
I doubt it, given the energy I feel is below, not aboveground. He stopped at the doorway and lightly pressed his fingertips against the sturdy metal door. Nothing happened. Be wary. Whatever it is I feel, it lies beyond this door.
I nodded and drew Amaya. Her hiss was a sound of displeasure. Draw sooner, she muttered. Safer.
Not when there’s nothing attacking, I replied. Don’t tell me you’re bored back there, Amaya.
Not, she replied, somewhat huffily. Concerned am.
I grinned and stepped back a little as Azriel raised Valdis and shoved her point into the door’s deadlock. With very little fuss, her flames melted both the lock and the bolt, and the door swung silently open.
It looked altogether too much like an invitation for my liking.
The door didn’t open to the outside world, but, as Azriel had suspected, into a basement area. The stairs leading down into deeper darkness were concrete, and the air smelled reasonably fresh. But it was too black to be ordinary darkness, even if there was no immediate sense of danger. I certainly couldn’t smell anything that represented any sort of threat.
