Darkness Splintered

Page 19

There were two dead creatures at Azriel’s feet, and a heartbeat later a third joined them. He spun, Valdis blazing in his hand, his gaze sweeping the room. There were bloody rents across his right shoulder and thigh, but neither wound looked particularly deep.
His gaze met mine, and the tension in his shoulders eased. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.” I hesitated, eyes widening a little as my stomach rose. “Make that a no.”
I bolted for the sink. Azriel was beside me in an instant, and though he offered no comfort, his closeness was enough.
“To repeat my earlier question,” he said, once I’d finished throwing up. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.” I turned on the tap, scooped up some water, and rinsed out my mouth. “But if I’m going to spend the next nine months throwing up my dinner every time a bad guy carks it, I’m going to be royally pissed.”
“So this is a result of the pregnancy?” He tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ears, his touch warm against my skin.
“Probably.” I gave him a twisted half smile. “I can remember Mom saying she did nothing but throw up in the first trimester. And given that I’ve generally managed to hold on to my stomach when a bad guy has gone splat, it’s a good bet that being pregnant is the problem.”
“And is this” – he motioned toward the sink, his expression bemused – “a common problem with nonhuman females? Because it does not seem very efficient to me.”
I grinned. “Is that how reapers go through pregnancy? Efficiently?”
“Of course. It benefits the mother and the child to do so.”
“Well, this mother has always had problems with efficiency.”
“I know.” He raised my chin with one gentle finger and dropped a kiss on my nose. “It is one of the reasons I find you fascinating.”
I raised my eyebrows. “I’m not entirely sure I’m happy to be called ‘fascinating.’ Especially when there are lots of other adjectives I’d much rather hear.”
His warm smile crinkled the corners of his eyes, and made my heart do happy little tumbles. “Would ‘enthralling’ be better? Or ‘captivating’?”
“They’re a start,” I said primly. Then I waved a hand at the creatures. “What were they?”
“Some form of lower demon, though not one I’ve come across before.” His smile faded, and the room seemed cooler for its loss. “The fact they were here and waiting suggests our sorceress has fled. It is doubtful we will find anything of use.”
“Probably, but we should still look.”
“I wasn’t suggesting otherwise.” He paused and sheathed Valdis. “Perhaps we should start upstairs, in her bedroom. That is where she kept her tools of trade.”
I pushed away from the bench and led the way to the stairs. “Which she’ll undoubtedly have taken if she has fled.”
“Undoubtedly. But she might have left in a rush, so it is always possible she has forgotten something.”
“She had a three-day head start, thanks to the fact I was drowning my sorrows rather than doing what I should have been.” My voice was heavy with annoyance – at myself, at my stupidity for acting without thinking. It’s what had allowed Hunter to get her claws in me, and it’s the reason Azriel had been scarred —
“Risa, enough.” He caught my hand and tugged me toward him. “Neither of us can change what has already happened. We can only affect the future. As for acting without thinking —” He paused, and his sudden smile just about melted my heart. “It is one of the things I adore about you. Please never lose it, because there has been far too little spontaneity in my life until you came along.”
Tears stung my eyes. I blinked them away and hugged him fiercely. “Thank you,” I whispered, my breath stirring his dark hair.
He gently kissed the nape of my neck. “For what?”
“For just being you. And for coming back.”
“It is not logical to thank me for being me. I can hardly be anyone else.”
Laughter rolled through me. I pulled back, dropped a quick kiss on his lips, and said, “That’s not exactly true given you can look like anyone you wish.”
“Ah, but you only ever see my true form, and I’m extremely thankful you happen to desire it. I’d hate to spend eternity attempting to look like someone else.”
“But it could certainly put a new spin on sexual dress-ups.” I turned and headed up the stairs. “And don’t ask why anyone would want to dress up for sex, because this is neither the time nor the place to explain.”
“I agree, but the concept is intriguing.”
“And much fun.”
The master bedroom was twice the size of mine and, like the rest of the place, pin-neat – almost sterile. The first time I’d been in here there’d been little evidence that anyone actually used this room, despite the clothes in the vast walk-in wardrobe and the pair of intricately carved Chinese sideboards that had sat in the middle of the wardrobe and radiated magic. A magic I had not wanted to go near.
My gaze swept the bedroom but little had changed other than the faint layer of dust now coating most of the shiny surfaces. It was obviously the maid’s week off.
I walked across to the wardrobe, pushed open the double doors, and discovered emptiness. All the designer shoes and dresses, all the expensive but old-fashioned men’s suits and shirts, everything was gone. As were the sideboards. Only the magic they’d held lingered, skittering across my skin like mites, stinging lightly.
“Well, shit.” I stopped several feet inside the room and thrust my hands on my hips. “Looks like we’re late to the party again.”
And while Azriel might have told me to stop with the self-recrimination, this was definitely my fault. If I’d pulled my finger out instead of wallowing in self-pity, Lauren might not have escaped us so easily.
“She may have fled this place, but she will not have gone too far. She is too involved in whatever the other dark sorcerer has planned to run.”
I glanced at him. “You read her mind?”
“No. But she obviously held Lucian’s full confidence, and the standing stone we found in that storage locker ultimately led here. That suggests deep involvement.”
“I guess it’s unfortunate the locker is destroyed.” As was the woman who’d rented it. She’d been caught in the blast that had razed the entire building and killed at least a half dozen other people.
Of course, while I had no doubt that the body found in the smoking ruins of that storage locker did belong to Genevieve Sands, the question that had to be answered was, was it the same Genevieve Sands we’d seen exiting the place, or had we interviewed someone who’d assumed her identity?
“The stone at the storage place might have been destroyed, but it is possible the one at the Razan’s place remains,” Azriel commented.
I frowned. “Would the Razan still be alive given Lucian is dead?”
“If they were Lucian’s Razan, then no, they would not.”
“We should check.”
“Yes.” His gaze met mine, his expression holding an echo of the frustration that ran through me. “It is also possible Stane was able to get surveillance in here.”
“Possibly. I want to see him anyway, because I want to check the surveillance tapes for the storage unit.”
Azriel frowned. “Why?”
“Something the receptionist said before she died strikes me as odd.”
“She didn’t say much before she died.”
“She might not have said much, but she did say, ‘You changed again.’” I met his gaze. “Why would she say that? The only other time she saw me was when we went in there to check out the storage locker that first time, and I’d face-shifted, so it wasn’t even me she was seeing.”
“That is true,” Azriel said. “But you are not the only face shifter in Melbourne. And remember, the sorcerer is more than likely a face shifter.”
“Yeah, but he’s male. He shouldn’t be able to take on the form of a female.”
“‘Shouldn’t’ doesn’t mean he can’t.”
Unfortunately, that was all too true. I scanned the room a final time, and caught sight of something glinting at the base of the wardrobe that had held all the men’s clothing.
Frown deepening, I walked over and bent to pick it up. It was an elongated, hexagon-shaped cuff link, the setting thick gold that bore intricate scrollwork with a huge sapphire dominating its center. I didn’t know much about cuff links, but I knew my stones, and this one was worth a fortune. It wasn’t new, either, because the fixed back showed signs of wear. I turned it around. Two initials – RJ – and underneath the letters sat what looked like a half-moon. I held it up so Azriel could see it.
He raised an eyebrow. “And this will help us how?”
“It’s handmade, and there’s a maker’s mark on the back.” I tucked it into my purse. “If we can track the maker down, then maybe they could give us the details of the person they sold them to.”
It was a long shot, but long shots were all we really had.
“Shall we head to the Razans’ place next?”
“I guess.” I walked back across the room. “What will we do if the Razan are alive, though?”
“We question them.” Azriel wrapped his arms around me again. “If they are alive, then someone else made them. And that might imply there is another Aedh involved, one we have not yet sighted.”
I glanced up and met his gaze. “Do you really think that’s possible?”
“No. But I am not about to discount the possibility given – as you have often noted – the lack of help coming from the fates’ hands.”
His energy whirled through us, snapping us through the fields so fast I almost felt out of breath when we re-formed.