Darkness Devours
Page 44
He studied me for a moment, clearly trying to decide if I was pulling his leg or not. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
I tore off my shirtsleeve and used it to bandage the worst of his wounds. “Does that mean you didn’t believe me when I mentioned them before?”
“To be honest, I had no idea what to think. I mean, ghosts and demons I can accept, because there’s been enough evidence of both over the years. But reapers? And winged beings that no one has ever seen except in the pages of religious books?” He shook his head. “I’m an investigative reporter. We tend not to believe anything unless there’s some form of proof.”
I snorted softly. “And when there’s no proof, you make it up from half-truths or outright lies.”
His black eyes glimmered with sudden anger. “I have never concocted a story. You of all people should know that.”
I did. I was just being petty and baiting him—not that I was about to admit it. “The secretary obviously knew enough to identify our face-shifter. It’s bloody frustrating that his people got here before us.”
“Yeah. He seems to know exactly what we’re up to. I mean, first Logan, then the photographer, now the secretary—surely it can’t be a coincidence that he’s killing them in the same damn sequence that we’re seeing them.”
“We’re talking about someone who has shown no hesitation about sending a soul stealer against anyone who opposes his plans to buy up the area around the ley-line intersection. Who knows what other type of dark magic he has at his beck and call?”
“Magic wouldn’t reveal our intentions. Not from what I know of it, anyway,” Jak said.
I shrugged. I didn’t know enough about magic to say whether it was possible or not, but there was definitely some force at work here—even if it was human based. Jak was right—the sequence of the murders very likely wasn’t a coincidence.
Awareness surged across my skin, and I twisted around. Azriel appeared with two men in tow. Both of them were pale and wide-eyed with terror. Obviously, the journey through the gray fields had shocked them.
He dropped them unceremoniously on the floor. They stayed where they fell, breathing but unmoving, meaning he’d restrained them in some way, even if the restraints weren’t visible.
His gaze moved from me to Jak. Do you wish me to render him unconscious?
No. I’ve told him about you. It’s easier. Out loud I added, “Did either of the men tell you anything?”
“They’re not men—they’re Razan.”
I blinked. That was something I hadn’t expected. Razan belonged to the Aedh—did that mean our face-shifter was either Aedh or in league with one?
“Can’t be,” I said automatically, even as instinct suggested it very likely was.
“Hate to interrupt,” Jak said dryly, “but what the hell is a Razan?”
“Basically, it’s the long-lived human slave of an Aedh,” I answered, almost absently. To Azriel, I added, “Are they wearing the tattoo?”
In reply, he leaned down and tore the shirt away from the back of one of his captives. Two tattoos were revealed—one of a dragon with two swords crossed above it and, on the right shoulder, a ring of barbed wire.
Confusion swirled through me, and I frowned. “That barbed-wire tat is the same one the rat-shifter saw on the fellow who’d paid him to deliver the note and the book from my father.”
“First,” Jak said, exasperation in his voice, “you really need to introduce me to the seminaked, sword-bearing reaper. And second, I thought you didn’t know your father.”
“I didn’t know my father until recently,” I said. “And Jak, meet Azriel.”
The two men nodded at each other. Azriel said, “The fact that these men are Razan suggests your father could be in league with our fake Nadler—if these men were sent here by Nadler, that is.”
“There’s no one else who would gain any benefit from the death of Logan, the photographer, and now his secretary, so it has to be Nadler.” I paused, chewing absently on my lip. “And it makes no sense for my father to be involved with someone like him. Even if he can no longer attain human form, he’s probably more powerful than any human could ever hope to be.”
Azriel nodded in agreement. “Even a human involved in dark magic who has control of a ley-line intersection would not be as powerful as your father.”
It should have been one hell of a scary thought, but maybe I was simply too damn tired and sore to feel any more scared than I already was. I rubbed my aching head wearily, and said, “None of this is making any sense, is it?”
“Especially not to me,” Jak muttered.
I gave him a half smile, but it faded quickly at the sound of approaching steps. I almost reached for Amaya, then relaxed as a voice said, “Risa, it’s Harris West from the Directorate of Other Races.”
“We’re in the kitchen,” I answered, a little surprised that Rhoan hadn’t come. But then, he was head guardian these days, and I guess I couldn’t always expect him to show up when I called.
But he’d still sent one of the daytime division’s best. While most vamps weren’t able to traverse the daylight hours, other nasties could, which meant these days the Directorate had a full complement of specialized non-humans in its ranks. From what Aunt Riley had told me, I knew that Harris wasn’t only a powerful werewolf; he was also an extremely strong telekinetic.
He appeared several seconds later, a tall, dark-haired man with handsome features. His eyes were the blue of the ocean, his shoulders broad, and his body lithe as a wolf. He scanned the room quickly, his gaze pausing on Azriel and briefly narrowing—which made me wonder just whom he saw—before finally coming to rest on me. “Up to your neck in it again, I see.”
“Afraid so. I gather Rhoan updated you on what has been going on?”
“Yes. He also suggested that I wring your scrawny neck,” he said in a wry voice. “But I’ll settle for an update.”
I gave it to him, suddenly grateful that Rhoan hadn’t shown up. Harris took statements from Jak and Azriel—although Azriel merely backed up what I’d already said—then, as the cleanup team arrived, told us to leave.
I helped Jak rise and we walked outside. I, for one, was more than a little relieved to have gotten off so lightly.
“What now?” Jak said, still cradling his bleeding arm.
I grimaced. “I’m going home to catch some sleep. I think you need to stop that arm from bleeding.”
“I meant case-wise.”
“I know, but I’m all out of ideas right now.”
“What about those photo disks you gave your uncle?”
God, I thought irritably, he was like a rat with a tasty morsel—he just wouldn’t let it go. “I have copies in the hands of a computer geek who’ll contact me the minute he gets any relevant information out of them. Until he does, we’re basically at a standstill.”
“I’d love to know how you managed to get those photo disks to your friend without me or your uncle realizing it.” Jak paused, his gaze moving past me. “Or did your reaper friend have a hand in that? I’m thinking if he can pop into existence to chase bad guys, it probably means he can transport himself around invisibly.”
“He can.”
The fact that I could—when I was fit enough, anyway—was something I kept to myself. I trusted Jak, but only to a point. If this whole scenario with Nadler didn’t pan out into a decent story, I didn’t want him suddenly deciding to do a follow-up piece on me.
“So until your friend comes through, we have nothing, as I said.” He rubbed a somewhat bloodied hand across his bristly chin. “I hate it when a story stalls. I might contact a few people and see if there’s any whispers on the streets about these murders.”
“Let me know me if you uncover anything interesting.”
He gave me a wry sort of grin. “I’m hardly likely to do anything else, given the threat your uncle has left hanging over our heads.”
If that threat prevented Jak from chasing leads without first informing me, then I couldn’t be sorry about it—even if I wasn’t exactly intending to obey it myself.
“I’ll ring you tomorrow if I don’t hear anything before then.”
He nodded, gave me a sketchy wave good-bye with his good hand, then headed off down the street, dripping blood as he went. Obviously he had no intention of shifting shape to heal himself just yet. But then, he’d always been somewhat reluctant to shift shape in public—mainly, I think, because he never liked to remind people he was a werewolf. Humans might have accepted non-humans as a whole, but that didn’t mean there weren’t pockets who feared all things supernatural—especially at the very low levels of society, where suspicion of anything bigger and stronger tended to be entrenched. Jak might have the skill to relax people and make them talk, but that skill couldn’t always override a base-level apprehension of non-humans.
I watched him walk away for several seconds, then turned to face Azriel. “I need to sleep.”
He snorted softly. “I believe I suggested that some time ago.”
“Well, I’m finally giving in to the inevitable—if you’ll zap me back home, that is.”
“You’re abandoning the hotel?”
I nodded. “I want to sleep in my own bed, seeing as the Raziq aren’t such an immediate threat.”
“And the things you left at the hotel?”
“I can get them later.” When I was rested and able to think logically again.
“Then home we shall go.”
He stepped close and wrapped his arms around me once more. I rested my head against his shoulder and closed my eyes, enjoying the sensation of his physical presence as his heat and energy tore through me like a storm, sweeping me from that place to mine in a heartbeat.
As my feet touched the wooden floors of our building, I sighed in pleasure. The huge industrial fans hanging from the vaulted ceilings whirled, gently moving air that was cool and still smelled faintly of roses and lilac—the scents lingering from potions Ilianna had been making earlier in the week. But there was dust on the dining table and over all the other bits and pieces scattered about, and there was an odd sense of abandonment in the way everything lay where it had last fallen. But I guess that was to be expected, since Tao was still unconscious and Ilianna was dividing her time between the Brindle and Mirri’s.
I tore off my shirtsleeve and used it to bandage the worst of his wounds. “Does that mean you didn’t believe me when I mentioned them before?”
“To be honest, I had no idea what to think. I mean, ghosts and demons I can accept, because there’s been enough evidence of both over the years. But reapers? And winged beings that no one has ever seen except in the pages of religious books?” He shook his head. “I’m an investigative reporter. We tend not to believe anything unless there’s some form of proof.”
I snorted softly. “And when there’s no proof, you make it up from half-truths or outright lies.”
His black eyes glimmered with sudden anger. “I have never concocted a story. You of all people should know that.”
I did. I was just being petty and baiting him—not that I was about to admit it. “The secretary obviously knew enough to identify our face-shifter. It’s bloody frustrating that his people got here before us.”
“Yeah. He seems to know exactly what we’re up to. I mean, first Logan, then the photographer, now the secretary—surely it can’t be a coincidence that he’s killing them in the same damn sequence that we’re seeing them.”
“We’re talking about someone who has shown no hesitation about sending a soul stealer against anyone who opposes his plans to buy up the area around the ley-line intersection. Who knows what other type of dark magic he has at his beck and call?”
“Magic wouldn’t reveal our intentions. Not from what I know of it, anyway,” Jak said.
I shrugged. I didn’t know enough about magic to say whether it was possible or not, but there was definitely some force at work here—even if it was human based. Jak was right—the sequence of the murders very likely wasn’t a coincidence.
Awareness surged across my skin, and I twisted around. Azriel appeared with two men in tow. Both of them were pale and wide-eyed with terror. Obviously, the journey through the gray fields had shocked them.
He dropped them unceremoniously on the floor. They stayed where they fell, breathing but unmoving, meaning he’d restrained them in some way, even if the restraints weren’t visible.
His gaze moved from me to Jak. Do you wish me to render him unconscious?
No. I’ve told him about you. It’s easier. Out loud I added, “Did either of the men tell you anything?”
“They’re not men—they’re Razan.”
I blinked. That was something I hadn’t expected. Razan belonged to the Aedh—did that mean our face-shifter was either Aedh or in league with one?
“Can’t be,” I said automatically, even as instinct suggested it very likely was.
“Hate to interrupt,” Jak said dryly, “but what the hell is a Razan?”
“Basically, it’s the long-lived human slave of an Aedh,” I answered, almost absently. To Azriel, I added, “Are they wearing the tattoo?”
In reply, he leaned down and tore the shirt away from the back of one of his captives. Two tattoos were revealed—one of a dragon with two swords crossed above it and, on the right shoulder, a ring of barbed wire.
Confusion swirled through me, and I frowned. “That barbed-wire tat is the same one the rat-shifter saw on the fellow who’d paid him to deliver the note and the book from my father.”
“First,” Jak said, exasperation in his voice, “you really need to introduce me to the seminaked, sword-bearing reaper. And second, I thought you didn’t know your father.”
“I didn’t know my father until recently,” I said. “And Jak, meet Azriel.”
The two men nodded at each other. Azriel said, “The fact that these men are Razan suggests your father could be in league with our fake Nadler—if these men were sent here by Nadler, that is.”
“There’s no one else who would gain any benefit from the death of Logan, the photographer, and now his secretary, so it has to be Nadler.” I paused, chewing absently on my lip. “And it makes no sense for my father to be involved with someone like him. Even if he can no longer attain human form, he’s probably more powerful than any human could ever hope to be.”
Azriel nodded in agreement. “Even a human involved in dark magic who has control of a ley-line intersection would not be as powerful as your father.”
It should have been one hell of a scary thought, but maybe I was simply too damn tired and sore to feel any more scared than I already was. I rubbed my aching head wearily, and said, “None of this is making any sense, is it?”
“Especially not to me,” Jak muttered.
I gave him a half smile, but it faded quickly at the sound of approaching steps. I almost reached for Amaya, then relaxed as a voice said, “Risa, it’s Harris West from the Directorate of Other Races.”
“We’re in the kitchen,” I answered, a little surprised that Rhoan hadn’t come. But then, he was head guardian these days, and I guess I couldn’t always expect him to show up when I called.
But he’d still sent one of the daytime division’s best. While most vamps weren’t able to traverse the daylight hours, other nasties could, which meant these days the Directorate had a full complement of specialized non-humans in its ranks. From what Aunt Riley had told me, I knew that Harris wasn’t only a powerful werewolf; he was also an extremely strong telekinetic.
He appeared several seconds later, a tall, dark-haired man with handsome features. His eyes were the blue of the ocean, his shoulders broad, and his body lithe as a wolf. He scanned the room quickly, his gaze pausing on Azriel and briefly narrowing—which made me wonder just whom he saw—before finally coming to rest on me. “Up to your neck in it again, I see.”
“Afraid so. I gather Rhoan updated you on what has been going on?”
“Yes. He also suggested that I wring your scrawny neck,” he said in a wry voice. “But I’ll settle for an update.”
I gave it to him, suddenly grateful that Rhoan hadn’t shown up. Harris took statements from Jak and Azriel—although Azriel merely backed up what I’d already said—then, as the cleanup team arrived, told us to leave.
I helped Jak rise and we walked outside. I, for one, was more than a little relieved to have gotten off so lightly.
“What now?” Jak said, still cradling his bleeding arm.
I grimaced. “I’m going home to catch some sleep. I think you need to stop that arm from bleeding.”
“I meant case-wise.”
“I know, but I’m all out of ideas right now.”
“What about those photo disks you gave your uncle?”
God, I thought irritably, he was like a rat with a tasty morsel—he just wouldn’t let it go. “I have copies in the hands of a computer geek who’ll contact me the minute he gets any relevant information out of them. Until he does, we’re basically at a standstill.”
“I’d love to know how you managed to get those photo disks to your friend without me or your uncle realizing it.” Jak paused, his gaze moving past me. “Or did your reaper friend have a hand in that? I’m thinking if he can pop into existence to chase bad guys, it probably means he can transport himself around invisibly.”
“He can.”
The fact that I could—when I was fit enough, anyway—was something I kept to myself. I trusted Jak, but only to a point. If this whole scenario with Nadler didn’t pan out into a decent story, I didn’t want him suddenly deciding to do a follow-up piece on me.
“So until your friend comes through, we have nothing, as I said.” He rubbed a somewhat bloodied hand across his bristly chin. “I hate it when a story stalls. I might contact a few people and see if there’s any whispers on the streets about these murders.”
“Let me know me if you uncover anything interesting.”
He gave me a wry sort of grin. “I’m hardly likely to do anything else, given the threat your uncle has left hanging over our heads.”
If that threat prevented Jak from chasing leads without first informing me, then I couldn’t be sorry about it—even if I wasn’t exactly intending to obey it myself.
“I’ll ring you tomorrow if I don’t hear anything before then.”
He nodded, gave me a sketchy wave good-bye with his good hand, then headed off down the street, dripping blood as he went. Obviously he had no intention of shifting shape to heal himself just yet. But then, he’d always been somewhat reluctant to shift shape in public—mainly, I think, because he never liked to remind people he was a werewolf. Humans might have accepted non-humans as a whole, but that didn’t mean there weren’t pockets who feared all things supernatural—especially at the very low levels of society, where suspicion of anything bigger and stronger tended to be entrenched. Jak might have the skill to relax people and make them talk, but that skill couldn’t always override a base-level apprehension of non-humans.
I watched him walk away for several seconds, then turned to face Azriel. “I need to sleep.”
He snorted softly. “I believe I suggested that some time ago.”
“Well, I’m finally giving in to the inevitable—if you’ll zap me back home, that is.”
“You’re abandoning the hotel?”
I nodded. “I want to sleep in my own bed, seeing as the Raziq aren’t such an immediate threat.”
“And the things you left at the hotel?”
“I can get them later.” When I was rested and able to think logically again.
“Then home we shall go.”
He stepped close and wrapped his arms around me once more. I rested my head against his shoulder and closed my eyes, enjoying the sensation of his physical presence as his heat and energy tore through me like a storm, sweeping me from that place to mine in a heartbeat.
As my feet touched the wooden floors of our building, I sighed in pleasure. The huge industrial fans hanging from the vaulted ceilings whirled, gently moving air that was cool and still smelled faintly of roses and lilac—the scents lingering from potions Ilianna had been making earlier in the week. But there was dust on the dining table and over all the other bits and pieces scattered about, and there was an odd sense of abandonment in the way everything lay where it had last fallen. But I guess that was to be expected, since Tao was still unconscious and Ilianna was dividing her time between the Brindle and Mirri’s.
