Darkness Unmasked
Page 47
“What about the roof?” Azriel said. “He did not define that the corners had to be the base of the building.”
I glanced up. The roof was tiled and not particularly steep, but it was very visible from all parts of the street. If I got up there, I’d attract all sorts of unwanted attention.
“Then you must risk the last stone at the corner.”
I guess I did. I took another deep breath that did next to nothing to release the tension in me, then said, “Let’s get this done before Lucian turns up.”
I walked across the road, glanced up and down the footpath to see if anyone was paying undue attention to us, then pushed through the old wrought-iron gate and quickly headed around the corner. Ivy and shrubs crawled all over the fence lining one side of the path, which would have been the perfect place to hide a stone except for the fact they had to be on the corner of the building. I found a crack in the concrete that was as close as I was ever going to get and wedged the lightest-colored stone into it. “Blood,” I said suddenly. “Amaya won’t cut me, will she?”
“She is incapable of doing so, even if requested.” He drew Valdis and held her point down, near my leg. Her steel flickered with an odd purple fire. It was almost as if she were displeased. “She is.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Why is that?”
His hesitation was brief, but nevertheless there. “Because of the connection we have formed.”
I studied him for a moment, sensing that was the truth as far as it went, but knowing there was a whole lot more to it than that—and that he wasn’t about to explain it. I lightly pressed a fingertip against Valdis’s point. Blood welled. I let it drop onto the ward. In an instant it was gone, sucked into the stone itself. Dark, bloody light flickered deeply in its heart, then stilled. But it was not inert. It was waiting.
I shivered, then stood and walked to the next corner. This time I wedged the ward into the strip of garden bed that ran the length of the rear of the building. When I dropped blood onto it, that dark, bloody light began to beat very slowly.
They were coming to life.
I repeated the process with the third stone, and this time the magic was tangible. It crawled across my skin, a force waiting for completion.
I jumped over the rear fence and walked up to the final corner. There was absolutely nowhere to safely put the ward. It was pavement right up to the edge of the building, and there were no cracks in either the concrete or the bricks.
“Then let me make one.” Azriel pressed Valdis’s sharp tip against the lowest visible brick near the corner of the building. Her flames flared briefly and, in seconds, there was a small, thumb-sized hole large enough to securely hold the last ward.
“Perfect.” I squeezed my finger to get a final drop of blood, put it on the stone, then hurriedly dropped it in place.
The energy that crawled across my skin expanded in a rush, sweeping out and up, creating a wall of power that was invisible, but not entirely silent. It reminded me of the crackle and hum often heard when standing under high-voltage power lines. It would certainly be a warning to those who were sensitive to such things that something major now protected this building.
I rose and met Azriel’s gaze. “Are you sure the wards will keep you out?”
In answer, he raised his hand and held it close to the wall. Little bolts of lightning shot toward his fingertips, a warning of what was to come if he pressed closer.
He lowered his hand. “The Aedh is here.”
“The bastard is early.” I flexed my fingers against the sudden urge to grab Amaya and thrust her sharp point into Lucian’s dark heart, then forced a smile and walked around the corner.
He waited in the middle of the three arches that made up the main entrance into the building. “Lucian,” I said, voice somehow very neutral. “How pleasant to see you.”
Amusement touched his lips. “And said with such sincerity, too. Just as well you’re a restaurateur rather than an actress, my girl.”
“I’m not your anything.” I stopped several feet away and crossed my arms. “It’s seven bucks an adult to get into the exhibition. You can pay.”
“My pleasure.” But his gaze wasn’t on me; it was on Azriel. “And it was, many times.”
The anger that exploded from Azriel was so strong, it actually forced me forward a step. How he managed to rein it in, to not attack Lucian, I had no idea. But he did.
He didn’t say anything, either. Maybe he simply couldn’t, lest it break the wall of control.
“Lucian, cut the shit and just get inside,” I growled. “We’re here to find the key, remember?”
“So we are,” he murmured. “But it is infinitely satisfying to know that I have succeeded where he has failed.”
“I wouldn’t be so certain of that,” I bit back, then pushed him up the stairs. Just for a moment, darkness flared in his eyes, yet another reminder that the man I’d spent so much time with was not the person he truly was.
I followed him up the steps and into the shadowed confines of the building’s foyer. Old bank-teller-type windows lined one wall, and it was behind several of these that tickets could be purchased.
“I see your father has done his bit to make this place safe,” Lucian said, smiling at the woman as he paid the entrance fees.
“It’s just unfortunate he was unable to keep the likes of you out.”
Lucian chuckled softly, handed me a ticket, then grandly ushered me forward. “After you, my sweet.”
“You can stick the politeness where the sun don’t shine,” I muttered, then handed the ticket to the collector at the main door and went in.
The next room was vast and had obviously once been the main mail sorting area. There were three rows of exhibits here and, at the rear, a sign stating there were more up the stairs. There were also about a dozen people wandering around and a guard for each of the aisles.
I scanned the room for security cameras and saw four—one on each corner. Between them and the glass covering the majority of the display tables, there was little chance of snatching the key inconspicuously—if it was here, that was.
I made my way to the first aisle and slowly walked through, lingering near each table for several seconds to see if I got any reaction to the items within. This aisle seemed to be a mix of pistols and swords, but none of them set off the internal radar. I walked on.
It was a slow process and one that was utterly nerve-racking. Not just because I needed the key, but because of the rising expectations of the man who followed so closely behind me. Of course, the growing sense that the shit was about to hit the fan didn’t help all that much, either. By the time I reached the end of the last aisle, I was so wound up, I was shaking.
I flexed my fingers again, trying to relax. A hard thing to do, given the tension radiating through me and around me. Tension that was mine, Lucian’s, and Azriel’s, all combining to make a stomach-churning mix. How I was managing to not throw up was a miracle.
“There are more exhibits upstairs.” Lucian wrapped his fingers around my upper arm and propelled me forward.
I wrenched my arm free, but bit back the anger and somehow managed to say, almost civilly, “I’m well aware of that. There’s no need to manhandle.”
He glanced at me, the amusement playing about his lips at odds with the cool distance in his eyes. “You and I both know that you are not averse to a little force now and again, no matter how much you might say otherwise. This morning’s efforts are a case in point.”
Which explained the bruises I couldn’t remember getting. God, how had I ever been fooled by this man?
Because he hid behind magic and years of pretending to be what he never was, Azriel said.
You weren’t fooled.
No, but then, there were other reasons for that. He paused. Be wary. The Raziq approach.
Concern shot through me. How many? God, don’t fight them—
I will do what I must, he said, in a tone that suggested he wasn’t about to listen to reason no matter what I said. You worry about finding the key. Let me do what I am here to do.
I grabbed the banister and began climbing the stairs. You’re here to keep me safe and find the keys. Getting dead isn’t a part of that.
I have no plans in that direction.
It isn’t your plans I worry about.
Ah, but you should, Risa, he said, his mental tones soft and almost wistful.
I frowned. Azriel, I really don’t need to be worried about your motives on top of everything else, so quit it.
I wasn’t talking about motives, he said, then, in more normal tones, added, But as you say, this is not the time. Razan have arrived.
Fear shot through me. What about the Raziq? And how many Razan?
I reached the top of the stairs and hesitated. The floor plan was a mirror image of the one below, but there were more people up here. My gaze swept the walls. Another four cameras. I wondered if anyone was watching them, or if they merely recorded events for viewing later if something went wrong.
Because something was most certainly about to go wrong. Just not in the way they suspected.
The Raziq keep their distance and wait. There are six Razan. Azriel hesitated. They do not feel right.
Oh, great. Meaning?
They have been infected with magic.
My stomach twisted a few more knots. You mean like the ones who attacked us when we lost the first key?
The same. His mind voice was grim. I will stop them, but it will attract attention. It is also possible they are little more than a diversion. Stay wary.
“I suspect your mind is not on what you are supposed to be finding,” Lucian murmured, cupping my elbow and propelling me toward the row of long rifles. “Wouldn’t be bitching to the reaper, would you?”
“What would it matter to you if I was?” I snapped, and yanked my arm free again. “But as it happens, he was informing me that Razan have arrived. Wouldn’t be yours, would they?”
His expression darkened. Meaning he wasn’t overly excited by this news and, warped or not, it cheered me up no end. I mean, anything that pissed him off had to be a good thing, if only marginally, right?
I glanced up. The roof was tiled and not particularly steep, but it was very visible from all parts of the street. If I got up there, I’d attract all sorts of unwanted attention.
“Then you must risk the last stone at the corner.”
I guess I did. I took another deep breath that did next to nothing to release the tension in me, then said, “Let’s get this done before Lucian turns up.”
I walked across the road, glanced up and down the footpath to see if anyone was paying undue attention to us, then pushed through the old wrought-iron gate and quickly headed around the corner. Ivy and shrubs crawled all over the fence lining one side of the path, which would have been the perfect place to hide a stone except for the fact they had to be on the corner of the building. I found a crack in the concrete that was as close as I was ever going to get and wedged the lightest-colored stone into it. “Blood,” I said suddenly. “Amaya won’t cut me, will she?”
“She is incapable of doing so, even if requested.” He drew Valdis and held her point down, near my leg. Her steel flickered with an odd purple fire. It was almost as if she were displeased. “She is.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Why is that?”
His hesitation was brief, but nevertheless there. “Because of the connection we have formed.”
I studied him for a moment, sensing that was the truth as far as it went, but knowing there was a whole lot more to it than that—and that he wasn’t about to explain it. I lightly pressed a fingertip against Valdis’s point. Blood welled. I let it drop onto the ward. In an instant it was gone, sucked into the stone itself. Dark, bloody light flickered deeply in its heart, then stilled. But it was not inert. It was waiting.
I shivered, then stood and walked to the next corner. This time I wedged the ward into the strip of garden bed that ran the length of the rear of the building. When I dropped blood onto it, that dark, bloody light began to beat very slowly.
They were coming to life.
I repeated the process with the third stone, and this time the magic was tangible. It crawled across my skin, a force waiting for completion.
I jumped over the rear fence and walked up to the final corner. There was absolutely nowhere to safely put the ward. It was pavement right up to the edge of the building, and there were no cracks in either the concrete or the bricks.
“Then let me make one.” Azriel pressed Valdis’s sharp tip against the lowest visible brick near the corner of the building. Her flames flared briefly and, in seconds, there was a small, thumb-sized hole large enough to securely hold the last ward.
“Perfect.” I squeezed my finger to get a final drop of blood, put it on the stone, then hurriedly dropped it in place.
The energy that crawled across my skin expanded in a rush, sweeping out and up, creating a wall of power that was invisible, but not entirely silent. It reminded me of the crackle and hum often heard when standing under high-voltage power lines. It would certainly be a warning to those who were sensitive to such things that something major now protected this building.
I rose and met Azriel’s gaze. “Are you sure the wards will keep you out?”
In answer, he raised his hand and held it close to the wall. Little bolts of lightning shot toward his fingertips, a warning of what was to come if he pressed closer.
He lowered his hand. “The Aedh is here.”
“The bastard is early.” I flexed my fingers against the sudden urge to grab Amaya and thrust her sharp point into Lucian’s dark heart, then forced a smile and walked around the corner.
He waited in the middle of the three arches that made up the main entrance into the building. “Lucian,” I said, voice somehow very neutral. “How pleasant to see you.”
Amusement touched his lips. “And said with such sincerity, too. Just as well you’re a restaurateur rather than an actress, my girl.”
“I’m not your anything.” I stopped several feet away and crossed my arms. “It’s seven bucks an adult to get into the exhibition. You can pay.”
“My pleasure.” But his gaze wasn’t on me; it was on Azriel. “And it was, many times.”
The anger that exploded from Azriel was so strong, it actually forced me forward a step. How he managed to rein it in, to not attack Lucian, I had no idea. But he did.
He didn’t say anything, either. Maybe he simply couldn’t, lest it break the wall of control.
“Lucian, cut the shit and just get inside,” I growled. “We’re here to find the key, remember?”
“So we are,” he murmured. “But it is infinitely satisfying to know that I have succeeded where he has failed.”
“I wouldn’t be so certain of that,” I bit back, then pushed him up the stairs. Just for a moment, darkness flared in his eyes, yet another reminder that the man I’d spent so much time with was not the person he truly was.
I followed him up the steps and into the shadowed confines of the building’s foyer. Old bank-teller-type windows lined one wall, and it was behind several of these that tickets could be purchased.
“I see your father has done his bit to make this place safe,” Lucian said, smiling at the woman as he paid the entrance fees.
“It’s just unfortunate he was unable to keep the likes of you out.”
Lucian chuckled softly, handed me a ticket, then grandly ushered me forward. “After you, my sweet.”
“You can stick the politeness where the sun don’t shine,” I muttered, then handed the ticket to the collector at the main door and went in.
The next room was vast and had obviously once been the main mail sorting area. There were three rows of exhibits here and, at the rear, a sign stating there were more up the stairs. There were also about a dozen people wandering around and a guard for each of the aisles.
I scanned the room for security cameras and saw four—one on each corner. Between them and the glass covering the majority of the display tables, there was little chance of snatching the key inconspicuously—if it was here, that was.
I made my way to the first aisle and slowly walked through, lingering near each table for several seconds to see if I got any reaction to the items within. This aisle seemed to be a mix of pistols and swords, but none of them set off the internal radar. I walked on.
It was a slow process and one that was utterly nerve-racking. Not just because I needed the key, but because of the rising expectations of the man who followed so closely behind me. Of course, the growing sense that the shit was about to hit the fan didn’t help all that much, either. By the time I reached the end of the last aisle, I was so wound up, I was shaking.
I flexed my fingers again, trying to relax. A hard thing to do, given the tension radiating through me and around me. Tension that was mine, Lucian’s, and Azriel’s, all combining to make a stomach-churning mix. How I was managing to not throw up was a miracle.
“There are more exhibits upstairs.” Lucian wrapped his fingers around my upper arm and propelled me forward.
I wrenched my arm free, but bit back the anger and somehow managed to say, almost civilly, “I’m well aware of that. There’s no need to manhandle.”
He glanced at me, the amusement playing about his lips at odds with the cool distance in his eyes. “You and I both know that you are not averse to a little force now and again, no matter how much you might say otherwise. This morning’s efforts are a case in point.”
Which explained the bruises I couldn’t remember getting. God, how had I ever been fooled by this man?
Because he hid behind magic and years of pretending to be what he never was, Azriel said.
You weren’t fooled.
No, but then, there were other reasons for that. He paused. Be wary. The Raziq approach.
Concern shot through me. How many? God, don’t fight them—
I will do what I must, he said, in a tone that suggested he wasn’t about to listen to reason no matter what I said. You worry about finding the key. Let me do what I am here to do.
I grabbed the banister and began climbing the stairs. You’re here to keep me safe and find the keys. Getting dead isn’t a part of that.
I have no plans in that direction.
It isn’t your plans I worry about.
Ah, but you should, Risa, he said, his mental tones soft and almost wistful.
I frowned. Azriel, I really don’t need to be worried about your motives on top of everything else, so quit it.
I wasn’t talking about motives, he said, then, in more normal tones, added, But as you say, this is not the time. Razan have arrived.
Fear shot through me. What about the Raziq? And how many Razan?
I reached the top of the stairs and hesitated. The floor plan was a mirror image of the one below, but there were more people up here. My gaze swept the walls. Another four cameras. I wondered if anyone was watching them, or if they merely recorded events for viewing later if something went wrong.
Because something was most certainly about to go wrong. Just not in the way they suspected.
The Raziq keep their distance and wait. There are six Razan. Azriel hesitated. They do not feel right.
Oh, great. Meaning?
They have been infected with magic.
My stomach twisted a few more knots. You mean like the ones who attacked us when we lost the first key?
The same. His mind voice was grim. I will stop them, but it will attract attention. It is also possible they are little more than a diversion. Stay wary.
“I suspect your mind is not on what you are supposed to be finding,” Lucian murmured, cupping my elbow and propelling me toward the row of long rifles. “Wouldn’t be bitching to the reaper, would you?”
“What would it matter to you if I was?” I snapped, and yanked my arm free again. “But as it happens, he was informing me that Razan have arrived. Wouldn’t be yours, would they?”
His expression darkened. Meaning he wasn’t overly excited by this news and, warped or not, it cheered me up no end. I mean, anything that pissed him off had to be a good thing, if only marginally, right?
