by Keri Arthur
“Possibly everything,” he said. “Or possibly nothing. It’s hard to say, but I’m just not liking the feel of things.”
“The feel of what?”
“Events.” He glanced sideways, his gaze narrowing slightly. “I’ve lost all power, the streetlights have gone out, and the street itself has become weirdly quiet. Either I’m becoming paranoid, or something is going on.”
I glanced at Azriel. “Bunker down. We’re coming over.”
“Make it—” He hesitated, and his face went white. “Oh fuck.”
And with that, the screen went dead.
Chapter 10
Azriel didn’t hesitate; he just grabbed my hand and transported us across to Stane’s.
We reappeared in the middle of his upstairs living quarters. The place was both dark and silent. Stane’s computer bridge was lifeless, and the air thick with the smell of fear and something else, something less tangible and oddly pungent . . .
Vampires, Azriel said, drawing Valdis. Her blue fire lifted the shadows, revealing the vamps standing together near the kitchen. Six of them.
It’s not vampires I can smell. It was something else. Something that reminded me vaguely of ash and old newspapers, but possessing an oddly foul chemical undertone. It certainly wasn’t something I’d ever smelled here before. Where’s Stane?
Close.
Alive?
Yes.
Relief cut through me. At least I hadn’t managed to get someone else killed. Why aren’t they attacking? Do you know what they want?
You, of course.
Then why not attack the minute we appeared? They would have had the advantage. Because until they did attack, he couldn’t. Reaper rules and all that rubbish.
I don’t know.
Neither do I. I drew Amaya and said, “Come on, guys, six vamps against one werewolf—that’s a little unfair, don’t you think?”
“Not if our actual aim was to draw you out,” the tallest of the six said, his voice urbane and rather pleasant. He stepped forward and gave a small, formal bow. “Risa Jones, the high council has overturned their previous position on you. Therefore, I’m afraid, you are now slated to die.”
“And they sent only six to do that?” I tsked. “Not very smart of the council.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Who said there were only six of us?”
The words had barely left his mouth when Azriel swore, spun, and pulled me roughly to one side. The knives that would have buried themselves in the middle of my back swung past my shoulder and hammered hilt deep in the middle of the nearest wall.
There were three of them behind us, three who for some unknown reason neither Azriel nor I had sensed.
Three who would have taken us out the coward’s way.
Rage exploded, rage that was both mine and Amaya’s. Damn it, I was fucking sick of everyone threatening me, my family, and my friends, and it would end now. I wasn’t helpless. I could fight and protect myself better than most, and it was time people started realizing that.
Take the three cowards out, I said to Azriel. I’ll keep the others occupied.
I called to the Aedh and disappeared. My actions didn’t seem to faze the vampire who’d spoken. In fact, he seemed oddly pleased by them. Unease slithered through me, but I shoved it aside and arrowed toward the group of six.
And saw, too late, the small device in the leader’s hand.
He pressed it, even as they all stepped aside to reveal a large, barrel-shaped container. I had no idea what it was or what it contained, and I definitely had no desire to find out.
But as I swerved away, the thing exploded.
A black cloud of molten ash plumed through the air, sparkling oddly. The thick cloud surrounded me, clung to me, its touch foul and heated.
The five vampires pulled weapons out and aimed them in my direction. I realized in that instant what they’d done—what the cloud was. It made the invisible visible. And while I had no idea whether bullets could harm me in this form, I wasn’t about to take the chance. If they knew enough about Aedh to make me visible, then it was highly probable they also knew what would kill me.
Amaya, shield!
Can’t! she all but screamed. Need flesh. Steel.
I swore and shifted shape, even as they fired the guns. Lilac flames spun around me, but not quite fast enough. One bullet got through, hitting my arm. Pain exploded even as a cold, deep fire began to burn in my flesh. The bastards were armed with silver bullets.
As the remaining bullets bounced off Amaya’s shield, I surged to my feet and rushed at them.
Kill, Amaya screamed. Eat must!
Go for it, I growled, and flung her, as hard as I could, at the tall vamp who’d been the spokesman. She cut through the air, her scream high-pitched and as scary as hell, her flames flaring wide, as if trying to devour all six at the same time.
The vampires scattered. I dove for the nearest one, hitting him at knee height and driving him down. He crashed to the floor with a grunt but nevertheless twisted and started throwing punches. I became Aedh, allowed several blows to pass through my particles, then shoved my fist inside his chest and re-formed enough to grab his heart. Then I squeezed. Hard.
He screamed, twisted, fought.
But there was no fighting my grip. No escape from death.
He collapsed and died, pain etched into his expression and his eyes wide with shock. There was no reaper waiting for him, only an eternity as one of the lost ones.
I shoved away the sliver of remorse, spun around, and re-formed again. I raised a hand and a second later Amaya hit it, her steel heavier but anger still burning in her heart.
There were four of the original six left. As I reappeared, they raised their weapons and fired again. Amaya shielded instantly and the bullets zinged off to various parts of the room, most of them smashing harmlessly into walls but at least one shattering the kitchen window behind me. I flung Amaya again, then became Aedh and darted sideways, coming in at the vampires from the left as Amaya came in from the right.
They scattered, firing randomly. One bullet zipped across the edge of my particles, and red heat spun through me, a warning that silver did affect me, even in this form.
I mentally swore, twisted around, and became solid enough to smash a booted foot into the nearest vampire’s face. There was enough force in the blow to mash his nose into the back of his head and throw him backward. I hit the ground in full flesh at the same time he did, reached a hand out for Amaya, then drove her deep into the vamp’s body. Her flames raced over him even as her deep chuckle filled the air. He was dead before he even realized it.
I spun around again and discovered myself at the wrong end of a gun barrel. “It was a good effort,” the vampire said softly. “But in the end, for naught.”
With that, he fired.
The gun exploded.
Bits of metal went everywhere, cutting him, cutting me. I yelped but nevertheless raised Amaya and shoved her into the vampire’s cold heart.
She quickly consumed him, body and soul. I turned, Amaya raised to counter the next threat, but the remaining vampires were dead. I met Azriel’s furious gaze. “Did you have anything to do with that gun exploding?”
He shook his head. “From what I caught of his thoughts, something must have been lodged in the barrel.”
Luck, it seemed, had finally remembered we existed. I sheathed Amaya, then walked across to where Azriel was standing. The vampire at his feet was still alive, though his arm had been sheared off at the shoulder and his blood spurted across Stane’s pristine floor. “Without wanting to sound too bloodthirsty, why have you kept this one alive?”
“Because I intend to use him—or rather, his telepathy skill—to send a message to the remaining councillors.”
With that, he squatted beside the vampire and pressed his hands on either side of his head. The vampire’s eyes went wide, but other than that, he made no sound. Neither did Azriel. I’d seen him do something similar in the past, when
he was reading the lingering memories of dead people, but each of those times, the images had appeared between his hands, as a sort of movie reel on high speed. There were no pictures here, and the vampire wasn’t dead. Not yet, anyway.
After a few minutes, Azriel opened his eyes, then, without warning, sliced Valdis across the vampire’s neck, severing his head from his body.
Only then did he meet my gaze. His blue eyes glittered with a fire as fierce as anything I’d ever seen. “They have been warned not to attack you again; otherwise, I will decimate their ranks.”
I raised my eyebrows; while I had no doubt he would carry through with the threat, it did surprise me that he was willing to go so far. “I didn’t think you’d be allowed to do something like that.”
“If they order a second attack after being so warned, then yes, I am. The fates’ priority right now is both you and that final key. Anything else—even rules that have been in place since the beginning of time and life itself—is secondary.”
“Damn, the fates are getting serious,” I muttered.
“As am I,” Azriel growled. “Enough is enough.”
“With that, I can wholly agree.” I raised a hand to shake some of the dust and soot from my hair but stopped when I caught sight of my fingers. Blood coated them. Blood that had come from inside a chest and an exploding heart.
My stomach rose and I spun, sprinting for the bathroom. I barely made it. When I’d lost absolutely everything I’d only just eaten, I flushed the toilet, then thoroughly washed my hands with soap and hot water. Once there wasn’t a scrap of blood to be seen—not even under my fingernails—I grabbed a cup from the shelf above the basin and rinsed out my mouth.
Azriel stood in the doorway, arms crossed and one shoulder resting on the doorframe as he watched me.
“You really need to stop regurgitating everything you eat,” he stated eventually. “That is good for neither you nor our child.”
“If the bad guys would stop attacking us—and therefore making me do things I’d rather not do to defend myself—then I might have a chance.” I glanced in the mirror, realized I was still wearing my fake face, and swiftly changed it back. It didn’t actually make my reflection look any better—I was still far too gaunt, and the bags under my eyes had definitely gotten bigger. I sighed and turned away. It wasn’t like I could do a whole lot to fix either problem right now. “Did you include Hunter in your telepathic broadcast to the council?”
He hesitated. “I sent it to all those that vampire had access to. Whether Hunter is one of those, I could not say.”
“Then I’m going to ring the bitch and tell her what has just happened.”
“Do you think that’s wise?” he asked. “After all, there is that saying about not prodding a sleeping bear. I think it would apply in this case.”
I half smiled. “It normally would, but I think we’re better off letting Hunter know about events.”
“I doubt that she would be unaware of them, given she has Cazadors tracking us astrally.”
“Maybe, but I’d still like to impress on her the fact that she needs me alive if she wants the fucking key, so it would be in her best interests to stop the council from sanctioning another attack.”
“I do not think it’ll make a great deal of difference, but there’s no harm in trying.”
I reached into my pocket to grab my phone, only to discover it was little more than metal and plastic bits. I swore softly. In the rush to protect myself and fight, I’d forgotten that any electronics not touching skin would be destroyed by the Aedh magic rather than simply dismantled, then put back together.
Stane had a phone, though . . . Stane. Fuck. “Have you managed to pinpoint Stane’s location yet?”
Azriel shook his head. “As I said, he is near and alive. I suspect, given that I cannot get any true sense of his location, that he might be underground somewhere.”
“How can he be underground when we’re up on the first floor? The vampires would have come through the ground floor, and there’s no other exit.”
“That we’re aware of. That doesn’t mean there isn’t another one. Stane is nothing if not clever.”
True. And given he dealt on a regular basis with some very shady characters, it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility for him to have some sort of panic room. It would also explain why his phone signal had so suddenly cut off. Cell services were notoriously unreliable when it came to anything underground, like the rail loop, or even sewerage tunnels. Not that I really had firsthand experience of the latter, but if Stane did have a bolt-hole, then he undoubtedly also had an escape route out of said bolt-hole. And there were plenty of decommissioned sewer and utilities tunnels running underneath most parts of Melbourne.
I glanced around but couldn’t immediately see anything that screamed “hidey-hole”—which was the whole point of a panic room, really. But knowing Stane’s love of technology, it was doubtful that he’d be anywhere without some method of knowing what was going on above him.
“Stane?” I said, voice loud. “It’s safe to come out if you want to.”
There was no immediate response, but after several minutes there was a soft hiss, and part of the floor under his computer desk dropped down an inch and slid to one side. Two hands appeared, and with very little ceremony, Stane hauled himself back into the room.
“Fuck,” he said, face red and beaded with sweat. “That was more unpleasant than I remembered.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You’ve used your bolt-hole before?”
“Hell yeah.” He grabbed his desk with one hand and pulled himself upright. “You can’t play the black market game without occasionally hitting trouble. It’s been a few years, though, and I think I might have put on a bit of weight since I had it installed. Things were a little tight.”
“Better tight than you getting dead,” I said.
“Oh, definitely.” He plonked down on his chair, his expression grim. “So what did those bastards want with me?”
“Well, not you, for a start. They wanted me and were merely using you as bait.”
He glanced at the sprays and puddles of blood that decorated his living area. There were no bodies; even the vampire Azriel had decapitated had disappeared. I very much suspected Valdis’s fire had taken care of them while I was in the bathroom puking my guts out.
“It obviously didn’t go well for them,” Stane commented.
“No.” I glanced at the darkened bridge behind him. “How come you haven’t got a backup generator installed?”
“Oh, I have, but it only keeps the main computer system going, not the peripherals.”
“Peripherals being the light screens and keyboards?”
“No, they’re necessary and included. I just did a quick system shutdown when I saw the vamps entering. Didn’t want to chance them getting access to my baby.”
I snorted softly. He thought more of his computer’s safety than he did his own—anyone else would have disappeared into the panic room and let the computer fend for itself. I had no doubt it would take an exceptionally skilled hacker to access Stane’s system, even if he had left it on and running.
“I think you need to widen the net and include security in the systems it keeps going.”
“I think you could be right.” He swung around and splayed his fingers across a scanning pad on his desk. A second later, his bridge came back to life. “I guess the big question is, should I expect similar attacks, or will that be the last of it?”
“We don’t know,” I replied. “Azriel sent a warning to the council, but whether they’ll take any notice or not is another question.”
“And the would-be queen bee of said council?”
“Is another matter entirely.” My voice was grim. “But speaking of her, can I borrow your cell phone?”
“Sure, but why?” He dug his phone out of his pocket and tossed it over.
“Because I need to contact said queen bee.”
“Just as well I’ve enabled the sc
rambler for all but selected people,” he said. “I don’t want her getting hold of my number.”
“Stane, she’s Directorate.” I punched in Hunter’s number, and Space Invaders began to uniformly march across the screen as the phone connected. I smiled, then added, “She can get any number she wants anytime she wants.”
“Not this one, she won’t,” he said, amused. “When you get off the phone to her, I’ve got some information you might not want to see.”
“Oh, fabulous.” Things were obviously about to go from bad to worse—the thought had barely crossed my mind when the Space Invaders disappeared and Hunter came online. As timing went, it was pretty much perfect.
“Risa, dear,” she all but purred. “What a lovely surprise it is to see you.”
“I’m betting it is,” I all but snapped back. “Considering your fellow council members just sent nine of their finest to finish me off.”
All amusement fled, and her expression became very, very scary. “When did this happen?”
“About fifteen minutes ago. I take it, then, that my astral follower hasn’t reported the situation to you yet?”
“No, because that was something I did not envisage and, as such, was not in her brief.”
Meaning she’d asked for only key-related information to be relayed? If so, I very much suspected it was a situation that would now be rectified. “I’m also gathering the councillors didn’t seek your approval or even ask for your opinion of the action?”
“No, they did not.” And they would pay for that, if the icy, murderous glitter in her eyes was anything to go by. “It is hardly an action I would approve as yet.”
As yet. It was a very telling slip of the tongue.
“Well, Azriel sent them a warning not to make another such attempt, but you might want to address the situation yourself.” Somehow, I managed to keep most of the anger out of my voice. If there was one thing I was certain of, it was the fact that I didn’t want her murderous fury aimed at me. I was in trouble enough with Hunter. “After all, you need me alive to find the damn key.”
“I’m well aware of what I do and don’t need,” she snapped. “I will take care of the council. You had best concentrate on finding the keys—especially given you only have ten hours left to produce that second one.”