Darkness Rising

by Keri Arthur

  “So you’ve never actually tried?”

  “I’ve never even really thought about it.”

  There was censure in Azriel’s gaze, but he simply nodded toward the panther. “Are you going to call the Directorate about these two?”

  “So you did run interference with the other one?”

  “Yes. He had an unfortunate collision with a fist.”

  He said it so matter-of-factly that I actually stared at him for several seconds, wondering if I’d heard him right. But then his lips twitched, ever so slightly, and amusement bubbled through me—although I had a suspicion if I let it loose, it might hold a slightly hysterical edge.

  “Wasn’t there some sort of reaper rule that said you couldn’t interfere in matters of the flesh?”

  “No, I said I couldn’t dispense justice to those wearing flesh unless they stepped into the realms of the gray fields, as the witch had. Which does not preclude the possibility of interaction with humans should the need arise.”

  “Well, I’m glad you decided to step in. I’m not really sure I could have coped with two of them myself.”

  He nodded in acknowledgment, then said, “I will guard the door and keep people out while you phone your uncle.”

  I watched him walk away, my gaze dropping from the broadness of his shoulders to the stylized tattoos decorating his well-defined back. While the biggest of these was the Dušan, there were others. One was rose-like, another like an eye with a comet tail, and still others nothing more than random swirls. They were his tribal signatures, apparently, although I had no idea what that meant.

  And I wasn’t likely to find out anytime soon, I thought wryly, as I pushed to my knees and leaned over to feel the cat shifter’s pulse.

  It was steady enough, meaning I couldn’t have done too much damage. I got my phone out, hit the VID-SCREEN button, and said, “Uncle Rhoan.”

  The screen went into psychedelic mode as the voice-recognition program swung into gear and dialed Rhoan’s number. A couple of seconds later, he appeared. “Hey, Ris,” he said, the corners of his gray eyes crinkling with warmth as he smiled. “How are you this morning?”

  “Not as good as you, by the looks of it.”

  He laughed. “Liana and Ronan are home from the academy for the weekend. It’s just nice to have the whole family in one place again.”

  Lianna and Ronan were the eldest of the Jenson children and had—against Riley’s wishes—enlisted in the Victorian Police Force. “They’re nearing graduation soon, aren’t they?”

  From what they’d told me, the course ran for about six weeks; after that, there was a two-year probationary period.

  “Yeah, only a couple of weeks to go. Riley’s trying to convince them to go for a country posting. She reckons it will be safer.”

  I grinned. “Bad guys do make it into the country, you know.”

  “I know, but convincing her is another matter. What can I do for you, my sweet?”

  “Well,” I said, my smile fading a little, “you know those half-shifters that attacked me once before?”

  His whole demeanor changed in an instant. Gone was the man I knew and loved. The countenance now on the screen was one of the best guardians the Directorate had ever produced.

  “They’ve attacked again?”

  “The other two have, yeah. They’re both unconscious at the moment, but if you could get some help down here, I’d appreciate it.”

  “Where are you?”

  I told him, and he nodded. “I’ll be down in ten.”

  “Wait—”

  He didn’t, just clicked off. I swore softly. Riley was going to kill me. She didn’t often have her entire family together for a weekend, and now I had to go spoil things by calling Rhoan away.

  Although, to be fair, she’d always considered me part of her extended pack, and she would have killed me if I’d called anyone else.

  A steady stream of curses began flowing from the far side of the lockers. Obviously, the other shifter was now awake. I checked the panther’s pulse again, then rose, wincing a little and holding my side as I walked around to the back of the lockers. The second shifter lay on his stomach, and his hands and feet hog-tied behind his back. The rope used to bind him was nothing I’d ever seen before. It looked ethereal, as if it had been pulled from the gray fields themselves.

  He twisted his head around and glared up at me. “This is fucking uncomfortable!”

  “Good,” I said, a little amused that he’d actually think I’d care. “Who sent you?”

  I’d already had the answer from the panther, but it never hurt to double check.

  “What’s in it for me if I tell you?”

  “I’ll consider releasing you before the Directorate gets here. Now answer the question.”

  He studied me for a moment, obviously weighing his options.

  “Handberry,” he said eventually. “Or whoever it is that has taken his place.”

  “Does that mean someone has taken over ownership of the Phoenix?” The Phoenix was a downmarket bar situated on a street that just happened to be at the intersection of several major ley lines. We’d all but stopped the consortium that had been attempting—through any means necessary—to buy all the properties along the street in an effort to control the ley-intersection, but not all of the consortium’s owners had been caught.

  “Like I fucking know or care,” he said. “Handberry was just using the Phoenix as a base of operations, as far as I knew. I doubt this new guy will even go near the place. He sounds way too posh for that.”

  Posh or not, that didn’t preclude the possibility that he was there. It was certainly worth checking. “And you’ve never seen the new handler?”

  “Nah, he always has his vid-screen off, and we’ve never met him in person.”

  “And you don’t find this strange? I mean, Handberry worked alongside you, didn’t he?”

  “Yeah, but Handberry was one of us.”

  “Meaning a Razan, or a human twisted by magic?”

  “Both.”

  “So which Aedh do you belong to?”

  Something flickered in his eyes. “I can’t say.”

  “Can’t or won’t?”

  “Can’t,” he said. “The information was burned away when the magic happened.”

  And that sounded a little too convenient. “So who gave you the ability to shift shape?”

  He shrugged. “We weren’t allowed to see the practitioner.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “And how, pray tell, did they achieve that miracle?”

  “We were knocked out. Apparently it would have been too painful otherwise.”

  Well, given the fact that the magic had twisted their beings at a cellular level, I’d guess that was something of an understatement. It was pointless asking where and when—apparently one of the benefits of being a Razan was a very long life, and though these men looked to be little more than midthirties, they could have been hundreds of years old. And I doubted the shifting ability was new. They were too good at controlling it for it to be a recent event.

  Although it seemed odd that these Razan wouldn’t have a stronger connection to their masters than just a telephone number.

  But maybe the Razan ranks had levels. Maybe it was only the ones like Handberry who had a direct connection to their master. Maybe the grunts were kept ignorant for safety reasons.

  “There’s nothing else you can tell me about the ceremony or the people who performed it?”

  “It was a man. Other than that, your guess is as good as mine. How about releasing me now? My arms are going fucking numb.”

  “Can’t say I’m sorry about that, considering what you were intending to do to me.” I swung around and left.

  “Hey,” he shouted after me. “You said you’d release me before the Directorate got here!”

  “No, I said I’d consider it,” I flung over my shoulder. “Which I have. Consider the request denied.”

  He swore, long and viciously, but I ignored h
im and walked around to check out my other prisoner. He was also beginning to wake. But I didn’t really have anything to tie him up with, so I did the next best thing—I knocked him out again.

  Rhoan appeared ten minutes later, and he wasn’t alone. The man who accompanied him had dark hair and well-defined, handsome features. His eyes were the blue of the ocean, his shoulders broad, and his body lithe. He was also a werewolf. Vamps might not be able to traverse the daylight hours well, but other nasties certainly could, so it was logical for the Directorate to have more than just vamps on their team.

  “Ris,” Rhoan said, his gaze sweeping from me to the man at my feet and then back again. Humor glinted in the cool depths of his eyes, but died quickly as his nostrils flared. “You’re hurt.”

  I shrugged. “It’s a scratch.”

  He eyed me, demeanor disbelieving—undoubtedly because he could smell the blood. “This is Harris. Riley’s threatened me with death if I spend more than an hour away, so Harris will ensure these two are taken back for questioning. And it doesn’t smell like a scratch.”

  “Honestly, it’s okay. I’m okay.”

  If my reply sounded halfhearted, it was only because I was racking my brains trying to remember where I’d heard Harris’s name before. Then it hit me—Harris was the cop who’d helped Aunt Riley out the time she’d been kidnapped and brainwashed.

  The man in question nodded my way, then continued on past us, heading for the other side of the lockers, moving with an economy that spoke of both grace and understated power. As he disappeared around the corner, the shifter’s swearing abruptly ceased.

  I glanced at Rhoan. “I asked the other man who his maker was, but he said the information had been burned from his mind. Can you check that out?”

  Rhoan nodded. “What did they want?”

  “The letter my father left in the locker.”

  His gaze narrowed. “Why would your father leave a letter in a locker in the middle of a train station?”

  “Because that’s just the way he does things.”

  “What does it say?”

  I shrugged. “It’s instructions on how to read the Dušan’s book, which is pretty useless given the Aedh have the book, not me.”

  He grunted, accepting the half lie. “That could be a good thing. If you don’t have the book, you can’t chase keys. And that means Hunter might just leave you alone.”

  Given Hunter was all that stood between me and the high vampire council, I was actually hoping she didn’t. And I had hell’s chance of the Aedh giving up. But I didn’t say that. I simply shrugged.

  He eyed me for a moment, obviously suspecting there was a reason behind my silence, but thankfully Harris chose that moment to reappear. He was dragging the second man along behind him by the ethereal webbing.

  “A very interesting rope you’ve got here,” he said, his gaze meeting mine. The blue depths were cool and distant—not a man who trusted easily, I thought. “What is it made of?”

  “I couldn’t say, because it isn’t my rope.”

  He raised a dark eyebrow. “Whose rope is it? And can you remove it?”

  “It’s Azriel’s. And yes, he probably can.”

  “Who’s Azriel? The cop at the door?” Harris asked.

  “That’s no cop,” Rhoan said. “That is a reaper.”

  “He is a reaper,” I corrected gently.

  Rhoan glanced at me, bemusement crinkling the corners of his eyes, but all he said was, “Can he remove it so that transporting our prisoner is a little easier?”

  Even as he made the request, the webbing disintegrated. The shifter groaned when his legs and arms were released, but it was a sound that became another curse as Harris quickly replaced the webbing with cuffs.

  “Thanks, Azriel,” Rhoan said, then frowned. “Have you been the victim of any other recent attacks that you haven’t told us about?”

  I shook my head and lied. “This is the first.”

  “If there are any more, you will tell us, won’t you?”

  “Of course.” It would have been stupid to do say anything else.

  He relaxed a little, bending to cuff the shifter at my feet before glancing at Harris. “Let me know how the questioning goes.”

  Harris nodded, then dragged the second shifter to his feet. He shoved him forward, then looked at me. “You okay there while I get this bit of scum out to the van?”

  “Of course.”

  “Good. I won’t be long.”

  As he headed out, Rhoan kissed my cheek. “Be careful. And if you’re free tomorrow night, come around for dinner. The twins would love to see you.”

  “I’ll try, but the café’s fully booked and it could be a long night.”

  “I’ll let them know. They might even drop by on the way to the Blue Moon.”

  “Tell them drinks are on me if they do.”

  Rhoan snorted. “You could regret that.”

  I grinned. Ronan—the older of the twins by a mere three minutes—and I had a long history of trying to drink each other under the table. Of course, both of us had nonhuman constitutions, so getting drunk took not only a long time, but a whole lot of patience and money.

  “Take care of that wound, Ris, or Riley will have my hide.” He touched my shoulder lightly then jogged out of the room. Harris returned soon after. I watched him drag the second shifter to his feet.

  “I don’t suppose you could let me know if you uncover anything about his employer?”

  His gaze met mine, blue eyes glinting. “I don’t suppose you’ve double-checked with your uncle first?”

  I half smiled. “I don’t suppose I have.”

  “Then I’ll give him the information, and you can attempt to get it from him.”

  “Fair enough. Have fun with the interrogation.”

  “I always do,” he said cheerfully, then swung the panther around and pushed him toward the exit.

  Azriel appeared almost immediately. “What does the note actually say?”

  “I don’t know.” I pulled it from my pocket and opened it up. I quickly scanned the spidery writing, then read it out loud. “The Dušan’s book is being held by the Raziq at the underground lair where they interrogated you. At one o’clock tonight, I will arrange a diversion and draw them out. Be there to get the book.” I snorted softly and looked up at Azriel. “Like it’s going to be that easy.”

  “No,” he said, obviously taking my words at face value, “it won’t. Just because the Raziq have gone doesn’t mean there won’t be Razan. And I presume our window for getting in and out will be extremely small.”

  More than likely. I glanced down at the note again, then folded it up and shoved it back into my pocket. “I have no idea where the Raziq were holding me, so I hope you can find your way back there.”

  “I can.”

  I studied him for a moment, then said, “I’m a little surprised that you haven’t suggested you retrieve it while I remain behind.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “And what would that achieve? According to your father, the Raziq have the book veiled, and only one of the blood can see it. I am not of the blood.”

  “No, but you’re Mijai, and surely if anyone would be able to see through a veil, it would be you.”

  “The veil could be magical rather than connected to the gray fields. And if it is, it would work on me as effectively as on anyone else.”

  “Really? You saw the spell on the elevator clearly.”

  “That was human magic. The Aedh are more adept at concealing their magic from us.” He shrugged. “We will have little enough time as it is, and attempting to find something that I might or might not be able to see would be foolish.”

  Point taken. A glance at my watch revealed it was nearly two thirty. I wasn’t going to make Stane’s this afternoon, given I started work at three.

  “Isn’t the nanowire more important at this juncture?” Azriel commented.

  “Yes, but I doubt Hunter is going to come waltzing into the restaurant anytime
soon. Plus, we’d never get anyone to step in for me this late.”

  “Then what time do you finish this evening?”

  “Eleven. Or thereabouts, depending on how busy we are. Why?”

  “Because while you are working, I will scout out the tunnels the Raziq hide in.”

  “Won’t they sense you?”

  “Yes, but one of their Razan is allotted to die this evening. I will use that to our advantage.”

  Meaning he’d follow him around like a regular reaper until the moment his death occurred. As plans went, it was pretty good. At least we’d know the lay of the land before we went in. “But won’t that piss off whatever reaper has already been assigned the job?”

  He frowned. “Piss off means ‘annoy,’ does it not?” And when I nodded, he continued, “Why would you think it would annoy whoever was his previously allotted guide?”

  “Well, you’re usurping his position.”

  “That’s not the way it works for us. And this investigation would get priority even if it was.”

  “And here I was thinking you were stuck like glue to my ass until everything was done and dusted.”

  “Well, at least it is a most suitable ass to be following,” he said, and winked out of existence.

  Leaving me a little speechless. What sort of compliment was “suitable”? And why the hell was he even noticing my ass anyway? Especially given his stated disinterest in the human race as a whole, and the human body in particular?

  I shook my head, beginning to suspect I was never going to understand him. Then I left the locker room and made my way back to my bike, pausing only to place my promised call to Ilianna, assuring her all was okay.

  The streets were crowded, so it took me longer than usual to get over to Lygon Street—and of course that meant I was late.

  I jogged up the stairs to wash and change, thankful that I’d made a habit of keeping several changes of clothes at work. After grabbing an apron, I pitched in, taking orders, working the till, clearing tables— basically, just being where I was needed the most. We were busy the entire shift, and my side wasn’t the only thing aching by the time we neared the end. Of course, doing this job in stilettos was never a good idea, but the shoes were new and pretty, and sometimes that won out over sensible.