by Keri Arthur
Azriel nodded. “It is troubling that I might not be able to get into this ritual ground.”
“It just means I’ll have to stay out of trouble.” Or run like hell when it hit. “It would take some serious magic to stop you or an Aedh, though, wouldn’t it?”
“From the sound of it, this place is steeped in magic.”
I frowned. “Then it just might be the perfect spot to read the Dušan’s book.”
He eyed me for a moment. “Do you think the Brindle witches would approve of that?”
I remembered Kiandra’s statement in the hallway and smiled. “I think they already have.”
“Then it would be safer than attempting to read it elsewhere. But I recommend using the void regardless.”
“You bet your sweet ass I’ll be using it. Even if we are safe inside that place, that won’t stop the Raziq from surrounding it and snatching us the minute we leave.”
The ghost of a smile flitted over his face. “And why would you bet my ass on something like that?”
I snorted softly. “Now you’re just teasing me.”
“Perhaps,” he agreed. “And I would hazard a guess that this is the first time you’ve called any reaper’s ass sweet. Should I be honored?”
He was looking at me intently again, and again heat stole through my cheeks. Which was really, really weird. “Maybe.”
“Then I shall have to work on said ass, because I’d really prefer a firm yes to an unconvincing maybe.”
And with that, he winked out of existence again, leaving me wondering if—in his own weird way—he’d actually been flirting with me.
“No,” I muttered. “You’re imagining it.”
No rebuttal came out of the air. If he was still following my thoughts, he was keeping his answers to himself. No surprise there.
I climbed onto my bike and started her up, firing out of the parking lot and into the traffic. But I didn’t head immediately to Mount Macedon—not only because I needed to know what was happening with the void, but because I wasn’t about to go up there without taking one or two precautions. And while that meant I should be talking to Uncle Quinn—who probably knew as much about demons and whatnot as Azriel—talking to him would no doubt result in me being chained to a chair unable to move for the next week or so. Neither he nor Aunt Riley had been overly impressed with the results of my last encounter with one of hell’s minions.
I made my way to Mirri’s and parked in a lot a few buildings down. After slinging my bag across my shoulder, I walked back, taking the stairs two at a time until I reached the third floor.
I pressed the doorbell and, in the distance, the tinny melody of “Witchy Woman” rang out. Sadness swirled; I’d used that same tune as Mom’s ring tone. I blinked rapidly and forced a smile as the door was opened.
“Risa,” Mirri said, her cheeks flushed and her clothing more than a little disordered. “We weren’t expecting you.”
“Clearly,” I said, amused. “Do you want me to come back in half an hour or so?”
Her cheeks grew warmer. “No, no, of course not. Come in.”
She stepped back and opened the door wider. I stepped through, my gaze sweeping the neat but small living area, admiring the comfortable old couches and the lovely old rugs that dotted the worn floorboards.
Mirri peered past me. “Reaper, if you’re there, please materialize. We have a no-ghost policy in this apartment.”
“I am hardly a ghost,” Azriel commented as he gained flesh inside the room.
“When you’re here but not here, you might as well be. And it’s rude, you know. Sort of like eavesdropping.”
He didn’t comment as Ilianna came out of the bedroom, her expression exasperated as she tied the sash of her dressing gown.
“You really do have an impeccable sense of timing,” she said. “What the hell do you want that couldn’t wait?”
I grinned. “I did offer to come back in half an hour.”
She snorted disparagingly. “You may like it rushed, but I don’t. To repeat, what do you want?”
“What do you have on hand that I can use to ward off hellhounds and other possible nasties?”
She blinked. “And why would you be needing that?”
“Because I’m off to Mount Macedon to track down the witch who possibly raised the Maniae. The Brindle warned me that she might use dark magic to protect herself.”
This time her surprise was more evident. “The Brindle helped you?”
“Yes. Kiandra herself gave me the information.”
“That’s one way of dealing with a problem without getting a threefold backlash.”
I raised my eyebrows. “It was more than just a grab at a golden opportunity. They were actually helpful.”
“Wow.” Ilianna thrust a hand through her blond mane. “The Brindle actually helping an outsider? Things have changed. However, back to the problem at hand. Azriel’s armed with a super-duper shiny sword. Why can’t he take care of any potential threat?”
“Because I may not be able to get inside the sacred site in which the witch shelters. Have you made any progress on creating this void the Aedh spoke of?”
Ilianna’s gaze ran past me, and her green eyes glinted with sudden amusement. “You just can’t say his name, can you?”
“I could, if I wanted to, and if he was important enough.” Even I was surprised at that. His voice might have been even, but there was definitely an undertone of antagonism. He added, “But that is neither here nor there. The void?”
“Is a work in progress. Unfortunately, there’s no way to test its working without actually using it.”
Azriel glanced at me. “Then the witch’s solution could prove to be perfect.”
“What solution?” Ilianna asked, before I could say anything.
“Kiandra basically gave us permission to use the old Mount Macedon site as a bolt-hole.”
Mirri whistled. “Even I know that letting outsiders use a sacred site like that is a rather big deal.”
“It totally is,” Ilianna breathed, then shook her head, her expression concerned. “And it makes me wonder just what the hell the Brindle has seen coming. Although maybe we’re better off not knowing.”
I hadn’t actually thought about Kiandra’s sudden generosity, but now that Ilianna had mentioned it, it did seem strange. Trepidation stepped through me—and it spoke ill of what was to come.
I rubbed my arms and said, “Weapons for demons?”
“Oh. Yeah.” She turned and walked back into the bedroom, reappearing a few moments later with her bag of tricks—one that I knew from long experience she never went anywhere without. “I don’t have a whole lot on hand. Demons aren’t something I generally have to worry about.” She hesitated, frowning at Azriel. “Well, not until a certain sword-bearing reaper stepped into our lives.”
“If I hadn’t stepped into your lives, at least one of you would now be dead,” he said softly.
I shot him a glance. He returned my gaze evenly, giving little away as per usual. But I knew who he meant—Tao. I shivered and watched Ilianna rummage through her case.
“Ah, here we go,” she said, pulling out several items, then rising. She handed me three small smoky amber vials and a rather nasty-looking sharpened stake.
“I doubt vampires are going to be a problem at a witch ritual site,” I said, studying the stake dubiously. It actually felt good in my hand—well-balanced and not too heavy.
“Stakes are good for more than just vampires,” Ilianna said sarcastically, “and you of all people should know that.”
I gave her a look and she made an annoyed noise. “It’s white ash, which is not only a very strong wood, but also holds magical properties that make it dangerous to all creatures not of natural creation. And this one has been soaked in holy water, just to give it a little extra kick.”
I frowned. “But vampires are of natural creation. Most of them were once human.” Mainly because humans tended to hunger for eternal life, and vampir
ism offered that. Which didn’t mean there weren’t nonhumans who became vamps, just that there tended to be less of them.
“Were being the operative word. The process that makes them vampire is an unnatural creation. As are the creatures from hell—who may or may not have also once been human.”
“What about Aedh and reapers? Is the wood dangerous to them?”
A grin teased her lips. “No creature, flesh or energy, would be too pleased about being staked. But I don’t know if it will affect them magically or not. I certainly didn’t read anything about it during my time at the Brindle.”
I glanced at Azriel. He merely shrugged and said, “The only way to know is to try it, and you’ll have to forgive my reluctance to volunteer. I do prefer my flesh as it currently is.”
So did I, I thought, and felt heat touch my cheeks as he glanced my way. Damn my recalcitrant thoughts to hell. I cleared my throat and glanced at the three amber vials. “And these?”
“Holy water. Use it sparingly—you don’t need a lot for it to be effective.”
“Okay.” I shoved the stake in my belt, then carefully placed the little vials in various pockets. “I’m not sure how long this is going to take, but if you don’t hear from me by midnight, contact the Brindle for directions, then call Aunt Riley and let her know what’s happening.”
Ilianna nodded and gave me a quick hug. “Be careful, okay?”
I nodded, although it wasn’t like I deliberately threw myself into danger. It just happened. Sort of like night following day, I suppose.
I gave Mirri a quick kiss on the cheek, then added, “Sorry for the interruption. Next time I’ll call ahead.”
She snorted. “I’ve been a part of this little family for long enough to know that you never phone ahead. There is an imp inside you, Risa Jones, that occasionally loves to upset the apple cart.”
I grinned, but I couldn’t deny the fact that I sometimes did take great delight in doing the unexpected.
“And that,” Azriel said, his voice clear and bemused as we headed down the stairs, “might be more than a little frustrating, but it could also be your one saving grace.”
I glanced at him. “Meaning?”
“Meaning that doing the unexpected has so far kept us one step ahead of the Raziq. Here’s hoping it continues to work.”
“Amen to that,” I muttered. But even as I said it, I couldn’t help thinking that, sooner or later, our luck would run out.
Mount Macedon was about forty miles outside Melbourne, so it took me a little under an hour to get up there. Dusk was settling in by the time I turned onto the rough-looking dirt road that apparently led to the sacred site—although to call it a road was something of a misnomer. Goat track was more apt.
I slowed considerably, avoiding the worst of the ruts and gunning through the ones I couldn’t, splashing muddy water all over the bike and myself. The steep, tree-lined mountainside seemed to close in around me, filled with shadows and an odd sense of watchfulness, almost as if the trees were sentient.
I suppressed a shiver and rode on, the Ducati’s lights coming on automatically as the dusk and shadows gave way to darkness. It wasn’t the best time to be going hunting, especially in unfamiliar territory. I might have the keen nose of a wolf, but that wouldn’t help me against the sort of traps a witch might conjure. And Selwin had had plenty of time to do just that.
A set of old wrought-iron gates came into view. I stopped, kicking out the bike stand but leaving the motor running and the lights on as I walked over to the gates—which, unsurprisingly, were padlocked. The lock was ancient and heavy, the chain as thick as my arm. It wasn’t something I had any hope of breaking.
“Azriel, are you here?”
“Always,” he said from behind me. He stepped forward, his arm brushing mine, sending little tremors of electricity scampering across my skin.
“Can you break the lock?” I said, oddly torn between wanting to press closer to him and needing to create space. In the end, I did neither.
“I can, but the lock is wrapped in magic. If I smash it, there is no telling how this place will react.” He paused, his gaze on the heavy darkness beyond the gates. “There is much power here, and some of it is very old. And it is not quite as benign as you might presume.”
“Great,” I muttered, stepping back to first study the gates, then the old chain fence that disappeared into the darkness to either side of the main gate. I could jump over it no problem, but that would leave me without a fast getaway option should things go bad.
“You could always become Aedh.”
“If the magic inside that place can stop both you and the Raziq from entering, what chance have I got?”
He shrugged. “You are part wolf—a flesh-and-blood being as well as an energy one. It could be a vital difference.”
Could be. Could not be, too.
I returned to my bike and switched her off, then picked up my phone, checking to see whether I had service up here. I didn’t, so I shoved it and my wallet into the under-seat storage before walking to the fence. I leapt up, grabbed the top of the fence, and hauled my ass—rather inelegantly—over.
Once I’d dropped down on the other side, I turned and glanced at Azriel. “Well?”
He shook his head. “I can go no farther.”
“Naturally,” I muttered. Then I mentally smacked myself for being annoyed. It wasn’t his fault, after all.
But as I resolutely turned and followed the faint path through the trees and the darkness, I couldn’t help my trepidation. There were some things that even I—trained as I was by two of the best guardians the Directorate had ever produced—couldn’t fight alone. And I had a bad feeling that I was walking toward one of them now.
As my eyes became adjusted to the darkness, I became aware of shapes looming through the trees. Small buildings that smelled of incense, smoke, and ancient magic, as well as various silent, unmoving figures who hunched in the shadows—concrete monoliths hung with moss and lichens.
It wasn’t really what I’d imagined a witch’s ritual site would look like, but then this place was supposedly far older than even the coven that no longer used it.
The path meandered its way through the trees, sometimes widening into broader clearings but generally remaining little more than a goat track.
The wind was cool and fresh, smelling faintly of decomposing forest matter, eucalyptus, and the musky hint of animal. Probably kangaroo, given they were considered a pest in the Macedon region.
But the farther I walked into the mountain’s heart, the stronger another scent became—humanity, accompanied by the faint hint of roses. The scent of a woman rather than a man.
I slowed my steps and proceeded more cautiously. Ahead, through the trees, the darkness was lifted by a fierce orange glow that sent sparks cascading into the air and filled the night with the raw aroma of burning greenwood.
My fingers twitched with the need to reach for the stake, but as yet nothing and no one had threatened me. To walk in there expecting trouble might just encourage it.
The light of the fire grew stronger, until the shadows and the night were banished and the air rode with warmth and electricity.
It wasn’t a normal fire. Not completely. The flames moved and danced in a manner that seemed almost controlled—as if there was a being inside them that stirred them to life.
And yet I could feel no life other than myself and the woman who stood so close to the fire.
Fear tripped lightly down my spine, but I ignored it, pausing in the cover of the trees to study the clearing beyond.
The fire dominated the center of the rough circle, the wood piled high and burning fiercely. The witch stood so close to the flames that her skin had an orange glow and her hair seemed to flicker. There was no one else in the clearing. My gaze swept the grass. I couldn’t even see a protection circle, which seemed unusual.
“I know you’re there,” she said, her voice clear and untroubled. “The magic of this place war
ned me the minute you breached its boundaries.”
I walked into the lighted clearing but stopped halfway to the fire. The heat of the blaze scalded my skin, and I had no idea how she was managing to stand so close.
Her clear blue gaze swept me before rising again. “You’re not what I expected.”
“I daresay I’m not who you were expecting, either.”
“I daresay,” she agreed. “What is it you want?”
“Answers.”
She smiled. It was a real smile, a warm smile—the sort of smile that would have normally tugged a response from my lips. But there was something off-kilter about her, about the look in her eyes. Not to mention the edge of wariness that swirled across the clearing, mingling with the wood sparks and stirring the leaves of the nearby trees.
“The vampire council sent you?”
I hesitated. “In a sense. But I am not an assassin.”
“If I thought you were, you would already be dead.” She cocked her head and studied me for a moment. “I must admit, you intrigue me. I cannot determine exactly what you are.”
“I’m a half-breed, but that’s neither here nor there. And its not what I’m here to discuss.”
“Obviously,” she said. “I suppose you want to know whether I am responsible for the rise of the Maniae?”
“I do.”
She nodded and returned her gaze to the flames again. “I did not expect the Brindle to help the council, I must admit.”
“They’re not helping the council. They’re helping me.”
“A minor difference when you are here as a representative of the council.”
She might have considered it minor, but I doubted the Brindle would. “So you did raise the Maniae?”
“Of course.” She glanced at me. “Why else would I access the spell?”
She was, I thought uneasily, extremely chatty about her deeds. And that was never a good thing when it came to bad guys—or so Aunt Riley claimed—because it usually meant they had something devious planned. “Then my next question has to be, why?”
“Ah, that is far more complex.”
“I have all night.”
She smiled again—and this time there was nothing real or warm about it. “Perhaps. Perhaps not.”
