by Keri Arthur
“We’re in luck.” He shoved his phone back into his pocket. “Jason’s in charge of the investigation.”
“And he is?”
“An old friend.” He caught my elbow and guided me across the road—and didn’t immediately let go once we were on the other side. I rather suspected he didn’t want to—that he enjoyed the contact as much as I did.
Which was just another of those little insights that at any other time—with any other man—could have been wishful thinking. It wasn’t.
“Did Mo get clearance?”
“Yes.”
“Thanks.” I pulled out my phone and sent her a quick text.
“No need to thank me.” Luc’s amusement was evident. “I rather suspect Jason is looking forward to finally meeting her.”
I glanced up curiously. “Why?”
“Because there are few enough true mages left in the world today.”
I frowned. “She’s many things, but a mage isn’t one of them.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t a mage defined as someone proficient in all forms of magic?”
“Yes, but that doesn’t apply to Gran.”
“How many De Montforts do you know that can perform the sort of magic she does?”
“None, but it’s not like I have a whole heap of kin to go by.” And I had even less now. I blinked back tears. “Besides, she’s only ever done minor magics.”
But even as I said that, I remembered the energy she’d unleashed in the vaults and had to wonder. There was so damn much she hadn’t told me, so many questions that still lay unanswered. It would actually make a great deal more sense if she were a mage.
“In this day and age,” Luc was saying, “the ability to perform multiple magics—however minor that ability might be—qualifies her as a mage. And that’s without taking into account her great knowledge of all magics.”
I wrinkled my nose, though I wasn’t really sure why I resisted the idea. Maybe it just made my lack of knowledge and power all that more … galling.
“If you doubt,” he continued, obviously noting my expression, “why don’t you simply ask her?”
“Because it’ll be just another of those damn questions she won’t answer.”
Down at the other end of the road, a silver-haired man came out of Gareth’s house, then ducked under the police tapes and strode toward us. He looked to be in his late forties, with a craggy brown face and a slim build.
“Lucas,” he greeted, holding his hand. “It’s been too long.”
Luc gripped the other man’s hand and pulled him into a fierce hug. “It has. I wish it was under better circumstances, though.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty grim inside.” Jason’s gaze switched to mine. His eyes were the same vivid shade as Luc’s, suggesting there was at least some Durant heritage in his bloodline even if he didn’t immediately feel like a witch. “And who’s your pretty partner?”
“Gwen De Montfort,” I said before Luc could.
“Ah.” All trace of amusement fled. “Sorry for your loss.”
I nodded. “Has there been any sign of Henry?”
“Not as yet, no, although there’s also no immediate indication he was home when the murder happened.”
“Have you requested a locator?” Luc asked.
Jason nodded. “She didn’t have much luck, though. Either he’s magically concealed or …”
“He’s already dead,” I finished when he hesitated.
“Yes. I’m not sure it would be wise for you—”
“Are you—or anyone else on your team—able to track witches by their tells?”
He frowned. “No, but a witch wasn’t behind this murder.”
“Are you sure of that?” Luc asked. “Because we’ve now got concrete evidence of at least two witches working with the dark realm.”
Jason swore. Vehemently. “Why did I not know this?”
“It was only confirmed today, and I did contact your office to put out a warrant.”
“Tristan Chen,” Jason said instantly. “I’d heard it had been issued, but I’ve been too busy here to follow updates.”
“So he hasn’t been found as yet?” Luc asked.
“No. He’s not at his apartment—hasn’t been for over a week, according to neighbors. We’ve got it under surveillance.” Jason’s gaze came back to mine. “Are you absolutely sure you want to go inside?”
“We’ve just come from a hecatomb,” Luc said softly. “If she got through that, she can get through anything.”
“Another one of those is the last thing we need.” Jason’s voice was grim. “Old or new?”
“Old. Older than even the last one we found.”
“Well, fuck.” Jason shook his head and then turned on his heel and led the way back. “Don’t things just keep getting better?”
“Yeah.” Luc held up the police tape and ushered me through. “Any luck with the break-in at the museum?”
“Nothing new, but we’re still following leads.”
Luc grunted but didn’t comment as a police officer came out of the house and handed us shoe protectors, hairnets, and gloves. My stomach immediately started churning; part of me really didn’t want to see what I was about to see, but I had to. Gareth might be dead, but Henry was still out there somewhere. I needed to find him. Needed to save him. I didn’t want to lose two relatives in one day.
I followed the two men into the rather opulent hallway and up a couple of steps to the raised ground floor’s reception and kitchen area. There were cops—uniformed and not—searching every inch of the room, but we didn’t stop, moving up two more flights to the top floor and what looked to be the master bedroom.
I’d barely entered when a gasp escaped and I stopped, unable to force my feet any further. There was literally no part of the bedroom that had not been visited by bloody destruction. Just like the people in that basement, Gareth had been torn apart. Blood, gore, intestines, and limbs were tossed all over the place. The scent of death and blood rode the air, accompanied by a pain so deep it seemed to invade my bones and make them ache.
I took a deep, somewhat shuddery breath and fought back my horror. I needed to maintain control, to not cry or make a scene. To think and see clearly, so that Gareth’s death might be avenged and Henry found.
“Are you okay?” Luc asked softly.
I nodded and rubbed my arms. He didn’t look convinced but after a moment, he followed Jason into the huge suite and began questioning him. I remained exactly where I was. Any closer might be tempting an already unsteady stomach.
I briefly closed my eyes and took another deep breath, gathering the courage to look beyond the gore, to look for any possible reason for this madness. Surely it couldn’t have happened because of his tenuous link to Luis Valeriun—surely there had to be a more logical reason, especially given there were direct heirs still alive and well.
The bedroom, I noted, was as big as the top two floors of our building combined. There were three huge sash windows through which the interior lights poured, highlighting the street below. All three were closed and locked. Full-size bookcases had been set into the walls either side of the bed and held more photographs and knickknacks than books; nothing immediately appeared to be missing. There was a long, built-in wardrobe to my left and, to my right, an en suite.
My gaze returned to the gore, and it suddenly struck me as over the top. No death by demon was ever pleasant but this … this was a frenzy. It was out-of-control madness—the sort of thing usually found in a random late-night encounter. It was not something you’d expect to find in what amounted to a contract killing. There were surely easier ways to kill someone without bringing the full glare of the police world down on you. Hell, if you had the right witch contacts, you could buy a spell to do the deed from a distance. By the time anyone wised up, any hope of tracking the spell would have dissipated. So why send in a demon to unleash bloody mayhem? Why advertise your connection to the dark realm like that?
Had it gott
en to the point where the witch figured his secret was out and there was no point hiding it anymore? Or was there something more practical behind the use of the demon? Had it simply been a means of quickly curtailing Gareth’s response to someone breaking past the spells protecting this place? After all, no witch—however strong—could retaliate while being torn apart …
I closed my eyes and swallowed heavily. I couldn’t stay in this room. I had to get out, to get away from the scents of death and agony, even if the retreat was only as far as the en suite.
“Jason, is it okay if I look in the bathroom?”
He glanced up. “Yes, but if you find anything, notify me immediately.”
I nodded and went in. The bloody destruction in the other room was thankfully absent in the en suite. It was huge—the shower alone was bigger than our entire bathroom at home, and the bath could have substituted for a kid’s swimming pool. I stopped in the middle of the vast space and looked around. White marble adorned the floor, the wet areas, and the long vanity unit, while the walls were gold-patterned white wallpaper. Gold tapware and twin rain showerheads completed the feeling of opulence. My gaze went to the sash window. The spell surrounding it—just like the ones that protected our place—had been designed to keep darkness out rather than in, but the fact it remained active had hope surging. Spells never lasted beyond the death of their creator, which not only meant that its source was Henry rather than Gareth but also that he was still— The thought stalled as I caught the faintest flicker of energy clinging to the window’s catch.
It was a goddamn tell. One that suggested the witch—and maybe even the demon—had both entered and exited through this window.
And while the fragment probably wouldn’t lead me to the witch who’d magically unlocked this window and unleashed untold horror onto Gareth, it would at least give me some sense of him if our paths crossed again.
I very carefully approached the window, trying not to cause any sort of draft that would fragment the tiny tell any further. Once close, I covered my nose and mouth with one hand to prevent any chance of my breath disturbing the tell and then leaned in.
The ethereal piece of DNA held no familiarity, and there was a tiny bit of me that was relieved. I’d half expected Tris to be behind this atrocity as well, but this tell wasn’t his.
There was, however, a trace of Okoro in its patterning. I carefully rolled off a glove, then reached out with one finger and gently touched the fragment’s center. Its energy wrapped around my fingertip, briefly allowing me to tap into its secrets. There was definitely Okoro in its molecular setup, but it was entwined around something that was far darker. Something that spoke of ash and death.
It was also unclear whether the tell came from a man or a woman, which wasn’t something I’d come across before.
Before I could gather anything else, the tell faded, leaving me with far more questions than I had answers.
“Mo’s just arrived” came Luc’s comment from the doorway. “Did you find anything?”
“Yeah, a tell.”
“Big enough to track?”
“No, unfortunately. But it was from whoever broke in here.”
“Not Tristan, I’m gathering?”
“No.”
“For your sake, I’m glad.”
“So am I.” It might not make any sense, given he’d already proven himself willing and able to escort an innocent woman to her death, but I just didn’t want to believe he’d betray me—betray our lifelong friendship—so easily. The man I’d grown up with was still there, even if he was now tainted by darkness. I really wanted to believe that, when push came to shove, he’d walk away from causing any actual harm to me or Max or Mo.
Which might be nothing more than a fool’s hope, but still …
Luc stopped beside me, his big, warm presence doing little to chase away the chill that seemed to have settled into my bones. “Is there anything odd about the witch who did this?”
I hesitated. “He or she is an Okoro, but there’s an odd edge of darkness woven through their magical DNA.”
“You weren’t able to define gender?”
“Oddly, no.”
He grunted. “Is it possible the darkness you sensed came simply from working with a demon?”
“This wasn’t something that had simply rubbed off. It was ingrained.”
He frowned. “Are you suggesting the murderer is part demon? Or even dark elf? Because you know that’s impossible, right?”
“I once would have said Ainslyn having an open gateway into Darkside was impossible, and look how wrong that proved to be.”
“Yes, but demons would rather eat humans than fuck them.”
“The images on that gateway suggest otherwise.”
“Only because they use it as a form of torture, and the human is generally consumed in the process.”
“What about dark elves then? They’re not only humanoid in form, but possess all the right anatomical bits.”
“Yes, but there’s never been any mention of such a cross happening—not in all history.”
“That you know of.”
“Blackbirds have spent eons protecting the crown from darkness in all its forms. If such a cross were possible, we’d surely know.”
I wanted to believe that. I certainly didn’t want to believe such an abomination could exist, let alone thrive, in this day and age. But I also couldn’t ignore what instinct and training were telling me.
I crossed my arms and lightly rubbed them. From the room behind me came Mo’s familiar voice.
“Why on earth would she—or he—be involved in destroying possible heirs?” I asked. “There’s nothing she could gain by doing so. It’s not like she can claim the sword herself, even if she is a direct descendant of the Witch King.”
“A king always needs a queen,” he commented. “The prestige and power that comes with such a title might be incentive enough.”
He carefully unlatched the window and then slid it open. The night air swirled in, thick and cold with the scent of rain, but it was the snap of several magical strings that had my heart leaping—and not in a good way.
Henry’s magic might still be protecting this place but the fact it had broken rather than bent around the window being opened said he was swiftly running out of strength.
“Mo?” I yelled. “You need to get in here.”
She appeared in the doorway. “What’s wrong?”
I stepped to one side and waved a hand toward the window. “It’s Henry’s magic protecting this room, not Gareth’s—and his magic is now fracturing.”
She narrowed her eyes, expression intent. “He’s not close … but we need to get to him, and fast.”
“Can you track him?” Jason asked.
“Via his tell, yes. We’ll ring when we find him.”
“There’s no way you’re going without us,” Jason said. “This is our investigation—”
“And my damn family,” Mo cut in. “So unless you can fly, you’re out of luck on this one.”
With that, she shifted shape and flew out the window. I swung my backpack around, pulled out my daggers, and quickly lashed them together. Then I shoved the pack at Luc and followed Mo out the window, flying hard to catch up with her.
The trail of Henry’s fading magic led us over Lord’s Cricket Ground and a large cemetery, but by the time we reached a long body of water, the delicate threads were so fragmented they were now drifting apart; we wouldn’t be able to track them for much longer.
Without warning, Mo dove. I tucked my wings in close and followed, but the trailing daggers hampered the speed of my descent. She banked and swept through treetops before shifting shape near the ground and landing. I did the same, and then lunged forward to grab her as her damn moonboot snagged in a tree root.
She patted my hand absently. “Thanks. He’s here somewhere—”
A scream rent the air, the sound one of fury more than pain. Henry, somewhere in the trees to our right.
Mo swore. “The demons have followed him here—go, Gwen. I’ll sweep in from behind.”
Demons. Plural. Fuck.
I drew Nex and Vita, threw the sheaths on the ground, and bolted across the small clearing, jumping a log and then crashing through the bushes beyond it. The demons would no doubt hear me, but that was exactly what I intended. It was far better they attacked me than finish the job on Henry. I darted around several trees and leapt thick tree roots, following the scent of ash now simply because the remaining wisps of Henry’s tell were being swept away by the breeze.
The ground rose steeply and the brush got thicker. I raced on, the fierce light from the blades both lighting my way and letting me know just how close I was to darkness.
Another scream rent the air, but this time a fierce stab of pure energy followed it.
Henry, using the De Montfort ability to take life rather than heal it.
I crested the hilltop. Saw, in a swift glance, Henry on the ground but backed up to the standing stone in the center of the clearing. Saw the ashes of two demons fluttering to the ground at his feet and three more break through the cover of the trees to our left and fly toward him.
I screamed in fury and ran at them. Though their speed barely altered, two immediately twisted around and came at me while the third continued toward Henry.
I raised the daggers, clapped the blades together, and swept the twin forks of lightning in a bright arc, ashing the first two demons before sweeping the light across the clearing to destroy the third.
Movement, behind me.
I twisted around, caught a glimpse of scaly brown hurtling through the air. Dropped and rolled, coming in underneath the demon and slashing up high with both blades. Their tips cut through scaly flesh as easily as they might butter, and blood and guts sheeted down. I swore, wiped the stinking muck from my face and eyes, and then scrambled to my feet as yet more screams rent the air.
Three more demons were charging toward Henry.
I ran, with every ounce of speed I could muster, toward them.
Mo got there first.
She shifted shape, hit the ground in a crouch, and slammed her hand into the soil. Power surged and the earth rose up in a wave, catching the demons in its swell and then sweeping them away—sweeping them down. Smothering them within the earth.
