Darkness Unbound
Page 16
“Risa,” he said, the Irish lilt in his voice holding a hint of surprise. “Why are you calling at this hour? Is anything wrong?”
“I’m not entirely sure. Hang on.” I walked across to the door and pressed the control screen. As the door slid aside, I said into the phone, “There’s a woman outside my door claiming to be Director Hunter. Is this really her?”
I turned the phone around so he could see. Again, amusement flirted with Hunter’s lips—and again, the look in her eyes suggested she was anything but amused.
“Madeline,” Quinn said immediately, his voice cool and the soft lilt gone. “Do not try anything on her. Do not tamper with her mind. I’ll know.”
She snorted softly—almost elegantly—as her gaze moved to me. “You have some mighty powerful allies, Risa, but I’m no threat to you.”
Not yet.
The unspoken words hung in the air between us. I turned the phone back around. Uncle Quinn’s dark eyes glittered like black diamonds in the small screen. “If you don’t call back within the hour, I’m coming after you.”
“Thanks.” I hung up, then slipped the phone into my jeans pocket. Uncle Quinn might be one step down the ladder from this woman in the vampire hierarchy, but he was something the older ones weren’t. He was part Aedh, and he’d once been an assassin for the vampire council. And they feared him. I knew that tidbit from Riley herself.
I looked Madeline Hunter square in the eyes. “What do you want?”
With a long, slender hand, she motioned past me to the apartment’s interior. “A bit of common courtesy would be a nice start.”
“If you want to talk to me, we can go elsewhere. McDonald’s is around the corner and open twenty-four hours.” I smiled tightly. “I’m sorry, but you’re not getting permission to waltz into my house.”
Her lip curled ever so slightly. Obviously, Director Hunter and McDonald’s were not compatible. Or maybe it was my attitude she wasn’t compatible with. After all, she’d been running the Directorate since its inception, and I doubted she’d heard the word no very often.
“If you insist,” she said flatly. “Let us go there now.”
“Just let me grab my coat.” I didn’t wait for her answer, just jogged to my bedroom to fetch my leather coat and shove on some shoes. “Azriel,” I said softly, “You might want to listen in on this conversation.”
There was no answer, but then I didn’t really expect any.
“Are you sure this is safe?” Ilianna whispered as she and Tao came into my bedroom. “I mean, why the hell would the Director be visiting you at this hour?”
I snorted softly. “Who’s betting it has something to do with my father?”
After all, almost everything else that had gone wrong so far did.
“You want me to come along?” Tao asked, flexing fingers that danced with little jets of flames.
“No.” I squeezed his arm in appreciation of the offer, then added, “But it might be handy to see if Stane can get us the latest in nanowires. If the Directorate is getting involved, we might just need them.”
He frowned. “Will they stop someone as powerful as Hunter?”
“Probably not—but they sure as hell will make reading or controlling our minds a bit more difficult.”
He nodded. “I’ll get on it right away.”
“Get three.”
“Ris—” Ilianna said.
I cut her off with a sharp movement of my hand. “You’re wearing one, Ilianna. I don’t care if it goes against some witch rule. I want you protected.”
She didn’t look happy, but she didn’t argue, either. I squeezed Tao’s arm again and headed out. Hunter was still standing where I’d left her. I guess it had been too much to hope that she’d given up and left.
I waved her forward. She turned around and walked down the stairs, her black stilettos making little sound on the metal stairs. A woman who walked so lightly in heels that high was, in my estimation, extremely dangerous. But then, the mere fact that she was the head of the Directorate suggested that. You couldn’t maintain control for as long as she had by being anything but.
“McDonald’s is one street over,” I said as we hit the pavement. “On the corner of Swan and Botherambo streets.”
She glanced at me. “Botherambo?”
“Yeah. Odd name.” I shrugged. “They do good coffee.”
Or rather, it was far better than the stuff the old bar they’d ripped down and replaced used to produce. The older folk in the area were still boycotting McDonald’s to protest losing their local watering hole, but I couldn’t see the point. Especially since those of us who liked to party late could get something to eat at all hours.
Hunter didn’t say anything else and neither did I. Her scent rolled across the night—a faint mix of jasmine, bergamot, and sandalwood that was surprisingly pleasant, even for a nose as sensitive as a werewolf’s. Or a half-were’s, as was the case.
The chrome-and-glass building that housed McDonald’s soon came into sight. The big golden M dominated the rooftop and spread warmth through the darkness. Nearby, Swan Street was surprisingly busy, especially considering the early hour and the fact it was a weekday morning. The constant rumble of noise was regularly punctuated by the clatter of trains scooting across the old brick bridge, the bright light coming from the carriage interiors creating crazed patterns on the streets below.
Hunter held the side door open by her fingertips until I was through.
“What would you like?” I asked.
She somehow managed to look down her nose at me, even though she was several inches shorter. “I’d like not to be here, but I suppose a skinny latte will do.”
A skinny latte? Since when did a vampire have to worry about her weight? I ordered—and got—both a skinny and a full-cream latte, then walked across to the table she’d selected in the corner.
I placed her cup in front of her then sat down opposite. After peeling off the plastic lid, I dumped three packets of sugar in and gave it a quick stir.
Hunter took hers as is—although the brief flicker of distaste that crossed her face once she’d taken a sip more than backed up her statement that she liked neither this place nor this coffee.
Tough.
I took a drink, tried not to think about the thick, gooey cake I’d left sitting at home, and said, “So why am I the lucky recipient of a personal visit from the woman in charge of the Directorate?”
She interlaced her fingers and stared at me blandly. “I’m here about your father.”
“Isn’t everyone,” I muttered, and wished I’d brought some alcohol with me. I had a feeling I was going to need it.
She raised a sculpted black eyebrow. “There have been others inquiring about your father’s whereabouts?”
“Yeah, but you already know that. Uncle Rhoan took one of the thugs in for questioning yesterday afternoon.”
“Ah yes,” she said, as if she’d forgotten, though we both knew she hadn’t. “Unfortunately, that man couldn’t tell us anything we didn’t already know.”
“And what do you already know?” I didn’t think she’d answer, but it was worth a shot.
She simply gave me one of those cool vampire smiles they all seemed to do so well. “Have you heard from your father?”
“No. And I don’t expect to, either.” I raised the cup, took another drink, then reached for another sugar packet. “Why is the Directorate suddenly so interested in whatever my father is up to? You hunt down bad vamps, not Aedh up to no good.”
She took another sip of coffee, and it wasn’t a case of second time lucky. She took a handkerchief from her purse and gently patted her lips, as if to wipe away the flavor. I snorted softly. Okay, so it wasn’t top-shelf, but it wasn’t that bad, either.
“We are responsible for tracking down anything that is guilty of destroying human lives,” she said eventually. “And if the rumors about what your father is attempting are true, then he could potentially destroy millions. That makes it our business.”
“Only if he’s doing what everyone thinks he’s doing.” Not that I particularly wanted to defend the man, but hey, I owed him my existence. No one had actually brought me any proof that he was up to no good. “And you could have sent any of your subordinates here to ask about my absent parent, so why are you really here?”
Again the sculpted eyebrow rose, but the green eyes underneath gave nothing away. Then again, this was a woman who’d seen over fifteen hundred years. She’d be more than a little practiced at containing her emotions.
“I merely wish to ask you to contact me the moment you hear from your father.”
Contact her. Not the Directorate. Did that mean this wasn’t an official Directorate meeting? Was she here for reasons of her own?
My heart skipped a beat. Madeline Hunter wasn’t just the woman in charge of the Directorate, but also a top-ranking member of the vampire high council. And it was a scary thought that they might be getting involved in this.
I swallowed to ease the sudden dryness in my throat, and said, “Why?”
“Because I wish to speak to him.”
Again, I rather than we. “The Directorate doesn’t usually talk to people intent on destroying millions.”
“Unless,” she drawled softly, “they are involved in research that has interesting possibilities.”
Dread rippled through me. I stared at her for a moment, then leaned back in my chair. “What sort of interesting possibilities?”
“It occurs to us that a device designed to permanently close the gates could be re-engineered and used to open or close them at will.” She tapped a purple-painted nail against the plastic tabletop. “The ability to do that would be useful, and it would also provide us an interesting alternative.”
Something cold settled into the pit of my stomach. I took a long drink of coffee, but it didn’t do much to dislodge the ice. I licked my lips, then said, somewhat incredulously, “You want to use hell as your own private jail?”
Yet again that eyebrow rose. “You sound surprised.”
“It’s hell. You know, the place where all manner of demons, devils, and bad souls hang out. Playing around with the gates that protect us all is not a good idea.”
And I could just imagine what the reapers would make of it. They certainly wouldn’t be thrilled about the prospect of someone else gaining control over the light or dark pathways.
“Demons and devils enter this world all the time,” Hunter said, “so the gates are an insufficient means of protection.”
“The gates are not the problem. The magic that forces them open temporarily is. Stop the Charna, sorcerers, or Satanists responsible, and you’ll stop the dark ones from entering.”
She leaned forward a little, as if to convince me of her earnestness. All it did was make me suspect there was more to this than what she was saying. “But if we could learn what makes them work, then perhaps we can also make them stronger.”
“If it were possible for them to be strengthened, then I think the reapers would have done it by now.” I took another sip of coffee and tried to ignore the chills running down my spine. Tried to ignore the little voice in the back of my mind suggesting that Hunter’s plans involved me a whole lot more than she was admitting.
“Reapers?” A brief glimmer in her eyes suggested interest. Or maybe that was me reading far too much into the flicker of movement in her otherwise well-controlled features. “You can see them?”
“Whether I can or not is irrelevant to this conversation.”
“I disagree. If you can see the reapers, you can see the gates. And that is a talent we sorely lack.”
We as in the Directorate, or the high council? I wasn’t entirely certain which one she meant. “I’ve never seen the gates,” I said. “I’ve never walked the gray fields.”
Of course, the latter part of that statement was a total fabrication, but I was betting she really didn’t know what I was capable of. Mom certainly wouldn’t have told her, and the only other people who knew were those who’d been in the hospital room when I’d pulled Aunt Riley from those fields so long ago.
But one of those people had been Jack Parnell—Hunter’s brother and the man in charge of the guardian division. It was totally possible that he’d mentioned it in passing in his report.
And that could also explain why she hadn’t sent a lackey to talk to me. She’d wanted to examine me in person.
I finished my latte in one long gulp, then stood. “How do I contact you if I hear from my father?”
She drew a business card from her wallet and slid it across the table. “This conversation is not finished—”
“Yeah, it is,” I said. “I have to work today, and I really do not want to sit here listening to half-truths. When you feel like telling me what you’re actually planning, contact me. Until then, don’t bother.”
I expected the cold rush of anger, but instead she merely leaned back in her chair and gave me a small smile. “You really are your mother’s daughter.”
“No, I’m not,” I bit back, barely managing to control the anger that flared deep inside. “I won’t let you use me like you do her.”
Her smile grew, warm on the outside, calculating within. I had a bad, bad feeling that I’d managed to intrigue her further.
“Your mother helps us because we saved your life. Which means, technically, you owe us your existence.”
“I’m not entirely sure. Hang on.” I walked across to the door and pressed the control screen. As the door slid aside, I said into the phone, “There’s a woman outside my door claiming to be Director Hunter. Is this really her?”
I turned the phone around so he could see. Again, amusement flirted with Hunter’s lips—and again, the look in her eyes suggested she was anything but amused.
“Madeline,” Quinn said immediately, his voice cool and the soft lilt gone. “Do not try anything on her. Do not tamper with her mind. I’ll know.”
She snorted softly—almost elegantly—as her gaze moved to me. “You have some mighty powerful allies, Risa, but I’m no threat to you.”
Not yet.
The unspoken words hung in the air between us. I turned the phone back around. Uncle Quinn’s dark eyes glittered like black diamonds in the small screen. “If you don’t call back within the hour, I’m coming after you.”
“Thanks.” I hung up, then slipped the phone into my jeans pocket. Uncle Quinn might be one step down the ladder from this woman in the vampire hierarchy, but he was something the older ones weren’t. He was part Aedh, and he’d once been an assassin for the vampire council. And they feared him. I knew that tidbit from Riley herself.
I looked Madeline Hunter square in the eyes. “What do you want?”
With a long, slender hand, she motioned past me to the apartment’s interior. “A bit of common courtesy would be a nice start.”
“If you want to talk to me, we can go elsewhere. McDonald’s is around the corner and open twenty-four hours.” I smiled tightly. “I’m sorry, but you’re not getting permission to waltz into my house.”
Her lip curled ever so slightly. Obviously, Director Hunter and McDonald’s were not compatible. Or maybe it was my attitude she wasn’t compatible with. After all, she’d been running the Directorate since its inception, and I doubted she’d heard the word no very often.
“If you insist,” she said flatly. “Let us go there now.”
“Just let me grab my coat.” I didn’t wait for her answer, just jogged to my bedroom to fetch my leather coat and shove on some shoes. “Azriel,” I said softly, “You might want to listen in on this conversation.”
There was no answer, but then I didn’t really expect any.
“Are you sure this is safe?” Ilianna whispered as she and Tao came into my bedroom. “I mean, why the hell would the Director be visiting you at this hour?”
I snorted softly. “Who’s betting it has something to do with my father?”
After all, almost everything else that had gone wrong so far did.
“You want me to come along?” Tao asked, flexing fingers that danced with little jets of flames.
“No.” I squeezed his arm in appreciation of the offer, then added, “But it might be handy to see if Stane can get us the latest in nanowires. If the Directorate is getting involved, we might just need them.”
He frowned. “Will they stop someone as powerful as Hunter?”
“Probably not—but they sure as hell will make reading or controlling our minds a bit more difficult.”
He nodded. “I’ll get on it right away.”
“Get three.”
“Ris—” Ilianna said.
I cut her off with a sharp movement of my hand. “You’re wearing one, Ilianna. I don’t care if it goes against some witch rule. I want you protected.”
She didn’t look happy, but she didn’t argue, either. I squeezed Tao’s arm again and headed out. Hunter was still standing where I’d left her. I guess it had been too much to hope that she’d given up and left.
I waved her forward. She turned around and walked down the stairs, her black stilettos making little sound on the metal stairs. A woman who walked so lightly in heels that high was, in my estimation, extremely dangerous. But then, the mere fact that she was the head of the Directorate suggested that. You couldn’t maintain control for as long as she had by being anything but.
“McDonald’s is one street over,” I said as we hit the pavement. “On the corner of Swan and Botherambo streets.”
She glanced at me. “Botherambo?”
“Yeah. Odd name.” I shrugged. “They do good coffee.”
Or rather, it was far better than the stuff the old bar they’d ripped down and replaced used to produce. The older folk in the area were still boycotting McDonald’s to protest losing their local watering hole, but I couldn’t see the point. Especially since those of us who liked to party late could get something to eat at all hours.
Hunter didn’t say anything else and neither did I. Her scent rolled across the night—a faint mix of jasmine, bergamot, and sandalwood that was surprisingly pleasant, even for a nose as sensitive as a werewolf’s. Or a half-were’s, as was the case.
The chrome-and-glass building that housed McDonald’s soon came into sight. The big golden M dominated the rooftop and spread warmth through the darkness. Nearby, Swan Street was surprisingly busy, especially considering the early hour and the fact it was a weekday morning. The constant rumble of noise was regularly punctuated by the clatter of trains scooting across the old brick bridge, the bright light coming from the carriage interiors creating crazed patterns on the streets below.
Hunter held the side door open by her fingertips until I was through.
“What would you like?” I asked.
She somehow managed to look down her nose at me, even though she was several inches shorter. “I’d like not to be here, but I suppose a skinny latte will do.”
A skinny latte? Since when did a vampire have to worry about her weight? I ordered—and got—both a skinny and a full-cream latte, then walked across to the table she’d selected in the corner.
I placed her cup in front of her then sat down opposite. After peeling off the plastic lid, I dumped three packets of sugar in and gave it a quick stir.
Hunter took hers as is—although the brief flicker of distaste that crossed her face once she’d taken a sip more than backed up her statement that she liked neither this place nor this coffee.
Tough.
I took a drink, tried not to think about the thick, gooey cake I’d left sitting at home, and said, “So why am I the lucky recipient of a personal visit from the woman in charge of the Directorate?”
She interlaced her fingers and stared at me blandly. “I’m here about your father.”
“Isn’t everyone,” I muttered, and wished I’d brought some alcohol with me. I had a feeling I was going to need it.
She raised a sculpted black eyebrow. “There have been others inquiring about your father’s whereabouts?”
“Yeah, but you already know that. Uncle Rhoan took one of the thugs in for questioning yesterday afternoon.”
“Ah yes,” she said, as if she’d forgotten, though we both knew she hadn’t. “Unfortunately, that man couldn’t tell us anything we didn’t already know.”
“And what do you already know?” I didn’t think she’d answer, but it was worth a shot.
She simply gave me one of those cool vampire smiles they all seemed to do so well. “Have you heard from your father?”
“No. And I don’t expect to, either.” I raised the cup, took another drink, then reached for another sugar packet. “Why is the Directorate suddenly so interested in whatever my father is up to? You hunt down bad vamps, not Aedh up to no good.”
She took another sip of coffee, and it wasn’t a case of second time lucky. She took a handkerchief from her purse and gently patted her lips, as if to wipe away the flavor. I snorted softly. Okay, so it wasn’t top-shelf, but it wasn’t that bad, either.
“We are responsible for tracking down anything that is guilty of destroying human lives,” she said eventually. “And if the rumors about what your father is attempting are true, then he could potentially destroy millions. That makes it our business.”
“Only if he’s doing what everyone thinks he’s doing.” Not that I particularly wanted to defend the man, but hey, I owed him my existence. No one had actually brought me any proof that he was up to no good. “And you could have sent any of your subordinates here to ask about my absent parent, so why are you really here?”
Again the sculpted eyebrow rose, but the green eyes underneath gave nothing away. Then again, this was a woman who’d seen over fifteen hundred years. She’d be more than a little practiced at containing her emotions.
“I merely wish to ask you to contact me the moment you hear from your father.”
Contact her. Not the Directorate. Did that mean this wasn’t an official Directorate meeting? Was she here for reasons of her own?
My heart skipped a beat. Madeline Hunter wasn’t just the woman in charge of the Directorate, but also a top-ranking member of the vampire high council. And it was a scary thought that they might be getting involved in this.
I swallowed to ease the sudden dryness in my throat, and said, “Why?”
“Because I wish to speak to him.”
Again, I rather than we. “The Directorate doesn’t usually talk to people intent on destroying millions.”
“Unless,” she drawled softly, “they are involved in research that has interesting possibilities.”
Dread rippled through me. I stared at her for a moment, then leaned back in my chair. “What sort of interesting possibilities?”
“It occurs to us that a device designed to permanently close the gates could be re-engineered and used to open or close them at will.” She tapped a purple-painted nail against the plastic tabletop. “The ability to do that would be useful, and it would also provide us an interesting alternative.”
Something cold settled into the pit of my stomach. I took a long drink of coffee, but it didn’t do much to dislodge the ice. I licked my lips, then said, somewhat incredulously, “You want to use hell as your own private jail?”
Yet again that eyebrow rose. “You sound surprised.”
“It’s hell. You know, the place where all manner of demons, devils, and bad souls hang out. Playing around with the gates that protect us all is not a good idea.”
And I could just imagine what the reapers would make of it. They certainly wouldn’t be thrilled about the prospect of someone else gaining control over the light or dark pathways.
“Demons and devils enter this world all the time,” Hunter said, “so the gates are an insufficient means of protection.”
“The gates are not the problem. The magic that forces them open temporarily is. Stop the Charna, sorcerers, or Satanists responsible, and you’ll stop the dark ones from entering.”
She leaned forward a little, as if to convince me of her earnestness. All it did was make me suspect there was more to this than what she was saying. “But if we could learn what makes them work, then perhaps we can also make them stronger.”
“If it were possible for them to be strengthened, then I think the reapers would have done it by now.” I took another sip of coffee and tried to ignore the chills running down my spine. Tried to ignore the little voice in the back of my mind suggesting that Hunter’s plans involved me a whole lot more than she was admitting.
“Reapers?” A brief glimmer in her eyes suggested interest. Or maybe that was me reading far too much into the flicker of movement in her otherwise well-controlled features. “You can see them?”
“Whether I can or not is irrelevant to this conversation.”
“I disagree. If you can see the reapers, you can see the gates. And that is a talent we sorely lack.”
We as in the Directorate, or the high council? I wasn’t entirely certain which one she meant. “I’ve never seen the gates,” I said. “I’ve never walked the gray fields.”
Of course, the latter part of that statement was a total fabrication, but I was betting she really didn’t know what I was capable of. Mom certainly wouldn’t have told her, and the only other people who knew were those who’d been in the hospital room when I’d pulled Aunt Riley from those fields so long ago.
But one of those people had been Jack Parnell—Hunter’s brother and the man in charge of the guardian division. It was totally possible that he’d mentioned it in passing in his report.
And that could also explain why she hadn’t sent a lackey to talk to me. She’d wanted to examine me in person.
I finished my latte in one long gulp, then stood. “How do I contact you if I hear from my father?”
She drew a business card from her wallet and slid it across the table. “This conversation is not finished—”
“Yeah, it is,” I said. “I have to work today, and I really do not want to sit here listening to half-truths. When you feel like telling me what you’re actually planning, contact me. Until then, don’t bother.”
I expected the cold rush of anger, but instead she merely leaned back in her chair and gave me a small smile. “You really are your mother’s daughter.”
“No, I’m not,” I bit back, barely managing to control the anger that flared deep inside. “I won’t let you use me like you do her.”
Her smile grew, warm on the outside, calculating within. I had a bad, bad feeling that I’d managed to intrigue her further.
“Your mother helps us because we saved your life. Which means, technically, you owe us your existence.”
