by Keri Arthur
“I still wish an update.”
Her expression made me gulp. No progress was not an option if I valued my life. “Is it possible to get a list of anyone who might have held a grudge against Alston and Boulanger?”
“That could be a very long list.”
“Meaning you’ll arrange it?”
“The list is being prepared as we speak,” she said, a cool smile teasing her lips again. “But it is an encouraging sign that you’ve asked. You might yet survive this little task of ours.”
She turned and walked out of the room, but her scent and her presence lingered, casting darkness through the sunlit room.
As soon as she’d vanished, Azriel reappeared. Valdis lay quiet across his back. “She does not linger. She has left the house.”
Tension slithered from my limbs, and I blew out a breath. “Do you have any idea what might be attacking the councilors?”
He shrugged. “There are many things—both in the gray fields and beyond—capable of such acts.”
“But surely most of them would have enough sense not to attack a councilor.”
“Most of them,” he corrected, “would only do so if ordered. Those who break through the dark gates under their own power are generally not so selective with their targets.”
Probably because they knew the Mijai would be on their tails, and that, if they were caught, their fate would be eternal death, not eternal hell. “Has anything like that broken through recently?”
He shrugged. “Things break though all the time.”
In other words, either he had no idea or he wasn’t going to tell me. I squashed the flare of irritation and glanced at my watch. It was nearly ten thirty, so I had to get going if I wanted to make my appointment with Catherine Alston. Given that she was a high councilor—and generally you had to have a few hundred years under your belt to even be considered for the local council—I suspected it would be a bad move to be late. I met Azriel’s gaze again. “Are you going to be present at the interview?”
“Do you wish me to be?”
I hesitated, then nodded. “We both know you’re going to be listening in anyway, and I think I’d feel safer if you were an actual, physical presence.”
“Meaning you do not trust this vampire?”
“Right now, I’m not much into trusting anyone.”
He studied me for a moment, his face as impassive as ever even if I felt an odd sense of fierceness emanating from him. “Even me?”
Especially you, I wanted to say, but that wasn’t entirely true. “I wouldn’t be asking you to watch my back if I didn’t trust you to do it.”
“Which does not entirely answer the question.”
“No, it does not.”
I gathered my things from the table then brushed past him and headed down the stairs. No footsteps followed me, but I felt his presence nonetheless. And this time, annoyance seemed to mingle with the fierce heat of him.
Although why he’d be annoyed I wasn’t entirely sure. At least I was being honest—which was a lot more than I could say about him.
My phone rang as I neared the front door. I tucked everything under my arm, then dug the phone out of my pocket with my other hand.
“Tao,” I said, as his handsome features appeared on the vid-phone’s screen. “What’s up? Is there a problem at the café?”
Tao, Illiana, and I weren’t only best friends who shared an apartment together, we also co-owned RYT’s—a café situated right in the heart of Lygon Street’s famed restaurant and club district. We had a prime position near the Blue Moon, and had been so busy lately that all of us had been working extra shifts. Not that I particularly minded; the more I worked, the less time I had to think about Mom. But it also meant I had less free time to spend with Lucian, who’d come to my rescue a couple of months ago and had quickly become my lover. He’d never be anything more than that, because—like Reapers—Aedh were unemotional creatures. Lucian might be a sexual being, but he didn’t want or need anything more. Which was okay by me. Having suffered the heartbreak of one broken romance, I wasn’t ready to step into another. Sex for the fun of it was all I wanted right now. And with Lucian, fun was always guaranteed.
Tao laughed, the warm sound jarring against the cold stillness of the house. “Can’t I call my best friend without her expecting something to be up?”
“Tao,” I said, a touch impatiently as I slammed the front door shut and coded the alarm, “it’s your day off and it’s only ten thirty in the morning. So there has to be a problem if you’re already out of bed.”
His warm brown eyes were twinkling, which meant the problem—if there was one—wasn’t major. “Hey, maybe I just never got into bed.”
“Oh, you were in bed,” I said wryly, “but whose is the million-dollar question. And if you say Candy, I will kill you.”
“Then I won’t say Candy.”
“Tao! She’s the best waitress we’ve got, and she’s not a wolf.”
“So?”
“So you know humans take sex more seriously than wolves, and she’s just going to quit like all the others when she realizes that you’re never going to be anything more than casual.”
“And if Candy herself doesn’t want or need anything more than casual?”
“How many times have you heard humans say that, and how many times has it actually been true?” I said impatiently. “Damn it, Tao, we have a hands-off policy for a reason.”
The humor in his eyes faded at the testiness in my voice. “I know, and honestly, I didn’t seek this out. Quite the reverse.”
“You should still know better.”
He snorted. “Why? Because I’m a man? Why should it always fall on the male of the species when it comes to self-control?”
“It shouldn’t,” I agreed. “But you’re the boss and you shouldn’t be fucking around with employees. Literally or figuratively.”
He muttered something under his breath, then said, “Stane gave me a call this morning. He’s finally picked up the nanowires we asked for. He needs us to drop by his place ASAP so he can fit them.”
“Fit them?” I said, frowning. “Don’t you just click them on like a necklace?”
“Not these, apparently. We did say cost was no object, so he’s gone for the latest technology.”
I grunted. Cost wasn’t an object—not when we had vampires like Hunter to deal with. “I’ve got a couple of appointments I have to deal with first, so I won’t get there till midafternoon at the earliest.”
“He’ll be there.” He hesitated, then added in a softer tone, “Are you okay?”
I smiled at the concern so evident in both his voice and his expression. We might be long-time friends and past lovers, but that didn’t really do justice to the depth of our relationship. We weren’t soul mates, but I couldn’t ever imagine living without Tao—and Ilianna.
“Yes,” I said. And, for the first time in weeks, almost meant it.
“Good,” he said. “I’ll see you tonight, then.”
“Wait!” I said. Then as he paused, I added, “Can get you get Stane to sweep our apartment for bugs? I’ve got a feeling either the council or the Directorate is listening in.”
“Why the hell would they want to do that?”
“Because they’re after information about my father, just like everyone else.”
He grunted. “You’d think they’d realize by now that we know jack-shit, but I’ll ask.”
“Thanks. See you tonight.”
I hung up, then shoved the phone back into my pocket and walked across to my bike. Once I’d tucked everything into the under-seat storage, I pulled on my helmet, then glanced at the house one final time. Good-bye, I thought. May you bring the next family better luck.
“A house is an inanimate object,” Azriel commented, suddenly appearing beside me. “It can bring neither good luck nor bad.”
“I really wish you’d keep out of my head!”
“I would, except for the fact you sometimes have very
interesting thoughts.”
I glanced at him, bemused despite my annoyance. “Only sometimes?”
He nodded, his expression impassive but with that almost devilish glint back in his eyes. “It’s more than can be said about most humans.”
“As I’ve noted before, I’m not human.”
He bowed slightly in acknowledgment. “And for that, I am extremely grateful. My task might otherwise be extremely tedious.”
Then he winked out of existence again, leaving me wavering between amusement and surprise. “Well, at least someone’s having a good time,” I muttered, climbing onto my old silver Ducati. She fired up quickly, the hydrogen engine making little noise as we cruised out the gates and down the street.
The Green Tower was located in the Docklands precinct of Melbourne, and the building itself was something of an enigma. While most of the towers close by were the standard straight-up-and-down glass buildings, the Green Tower was spiral in design. From a distance, it almost looked like a twisting tree trunk. Recycled wooden louvers—which were apparently powered by the photovoltaic arrays that lined its rooftop and provided much of the building’s power—lined its sides and tracked the position of the sun even as they sheltered the building from the worst of the heat.
The underground parking lot was for residents only, so I found street parking, then walked back. Azriel appeared beside me as I entered the lobby.
The balding guard glanced up and gave us a cool smile. I wondered what he was seeing Azriel as, because it obviously wasn’t his half-naked, sword-carrying self. “May I help you?” he said.
“I’m Risa Jones. I have an appointment with Catherine Alston.”
“One moment please and I’ll check with her.” He turned away and made his call, and a few moments later returned with a far warmer attitude.
“She’s sent down the penthouse elevator. Just head left—it’s the last of five, in the separated section.”
“Thank you.” I followed his directions and found the appropriate elevator.
“A businessman,” Azriel said as the doors closed and the elevator whisked us silently upward.
I glanced at him. “What?”
“You wondered what the guard saw me as. I answered.”
“Why would a guard see you as a businessman?”
He shrugged. “Perhaps he has high expectations of death.”
I snorted softly. “I have high expectations of death, but he continually disappoints me.”
“Then don’t have expectations,” he said, either ignoring the jibe or not getting it. He was staring at the floor indicator like he’d never seen one before. “I speak with experience when I say it’s easier that way. And what I’ve never seen before is the type of magic that protects this elevator.”
I blinked. “It’s protected by magic?”
He nodded. “A fairly old spell, by the feel of it. And very powerful.”
I glanced at our chrome-and-glass surrounds but couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Then again, I wasn’t usually sensitive to magic, so that really wasn’t surprising. “What’s the difference between a new spell and an older one?”
He glanced at me. “The age of the practitioner?”
Laughter bubbled through me. “Oh my God, you just made a joke! I can’t believe it.”
“I merely told the truth.” But that twinkle was back in his eyes.
Was my reaper getting more human, or was I merely getting more used to him? And why was I even wondering that when the man was obviously following my thoughts? “Can you tell what it’s designed to do?”
He shrugged. “It’s some sort of protection spell. More than that, though, I can’t say.”
I frowned. “But if she’s got protection spells here, then she’s probably got them in her apartment, too. So how was she attacked?”
“Ask her. I am by no means an expert on magic.”
“Meaning there are Mijai who are?”
He nodded. “I am a simple warrior, but there are some who specialize in more specific areas.”
“There’s nothing simple about you, Azriel.”
“On the contrary,” he replied. “I work and I live. That is the existence of a reaper, and I am no different from any of my brethren.”
“What about playing? Loving? Having families, stuff like that?”
“I live in a family unit, if that is what you mean.”
I glanced at the floor indicator, suddenly wishing it would slow down. Azriel wasn’t usually this chatty when it came to himself, and I really wanted to make the most of it.
“Family unit as in mom, dad, and siblings, or family unit as in wife and kids?”
“We do not pair up in the manner that you do here.”
“Which doesn’t answer the actual question.”
His smile briefly touched the corners of his eyes. “Indeed, it does not.”
“In other words, mind my own business,” I said, mentally swatting at hormones dancing about in the lingering warmth of that smile, with little effect. “Which, I may point out, is not entirely fair, given you’ve got access to my life and my thoughts.”
“I agree, it isn’t fair. But for the moment, that is how it has to be.”
“Oh yeah, got to maintain the status quo,” I said, the mirth in my voice giving way to a deeper edge of annoyance. “The one where you know everything and I know nothing.”
The elevator slid to a smooth stop and the doors dinged open, revealing dark marble and warm, subtle lighting. Unlike most penthouse elevators that I’d seen, this one opened into a small foyer area rather than the apartment itself. Dark glass doors dominated the three walls, all of them closed.
“If I knew everything, I would not be here,” he said all too reasonably as he followed me out of the elevator.
“And if you told me everything you knew, then maybe you could get out of here sooner,” I bit back, stopping in the middle of the foyer and wondering what the hell I was supposed to do now.
“Knowing whether I have what you would term a mate has no bearing on this case or on what we seek to do.”
“I know.” No one appeared to be coming for us, and I was half tempted to just get back into the elevator. It was only the knowledge that the high council wanted results or death that kept me standing there. “Forget I mentioned it.”
I could feel his gaze on my back—a weight that, oddly, seemed to demand that I turn around and look at him. I ignored the urge, listening intently. Somewhere in the silence of the rooms beyond, someone was moving. But whether they were actually coming to fetch us, I couldn’t tell.
“I do not,” Azriel said quietly.
Something inside me unclenched, and I finally looked over my shoulder and met his gaze.
“I am Mijai,” he continued. “It is not practical for us to consider a Caomh.”
I raised my eyebrows. “I gather Caomh means ‘mate’? And since when does practicality ever come into it?”
“Caomh is a whole lot more than merely a mate,” he said, his gaze moving past me. “A thrall comes.”
Surprise flitted through me—as much for the fact that I hadn’t sensed the approach as for the fact that Catherine Alston had created a long-lived servant. From what I understood, it was considered bad form for vampires to have thralls. But maybe Alston simply didn’t care. And maybe other vampires did have them, but they just hid their existence better.
The middle door opened. The man who stood there was brown-haired and brown-eyed, with a pleasant, open expression. He wasn’t a man who’d stand out in a crowd or linger in the mind, and he looked to be in his mid-twenties.
Except he smelled older than that.
Much older.
He was also armed. There was a slight bulge under his right arm, and if the prickly heat crawling across my skin was anything to go by, it was loaded with silver bullets.
“May I help you?” he said, his voice low and cultured.
“I’m Risa Jones. I have an appointment to see Catherine Als
ton.”
He nodded, but his gaze was on Azriel. “He may not enter.”
“He’s my partner.”
“He is death,” the thrall said. “And death shall go no farther than this foyer.”
“Azriel is not here to collect your mistress,” I said impatiently, at the same time wondering what the hell the thrall thought he could do to stop Azriel. “He’s here to help.”
The brown gaze met mine. “You’ll swear your life on this?”
“Yes.”
“Be aware that I will shoot you the minute I suspect ill intent from either of you.”
Oh, fucking great. A trigger-happy thrall was just what we needed right now. “As I said, we are here by request. Neither of us means your mistress any harm.”
He stepped to one side. “Proceed, then. It is the third door on the right.”
The hallway was wide but far from airy. Darkness lingered, and the air so thick with the scent of roses that it made my stomach twist.
Each door was lit solely by a small tea light. I wondered if Catherine had a thing against electrical lighting, or whether it was done for effect. After all, most vamps weren’t beyond the occasional attempt to terrify their guests.
“I am not trying to terrify you, young woman.” The voice was rich, cultured, and almost plummy—the sort of voice that sounded as if it came from royal stock.
“That is because I am of royal stock,” she said, then added, almost impatiently, “Come inside where I can see you.”
I walked through the doorway. This room, like the hallway, had only a couple of candles providing light. But at least the overly sweet air stirred here, meaning either that there was an open window nearby or the air-conditioning was on.
Catherine Alston rose from her chaise lounge as we entered. She was a tall, thin woman with a regal nose, sharp brows, and black eyes, and she reminded me of a crow. It was an impression somewhat enhanced by her sweeping black dress with its long, almost wing-like sleeves.
“You are not what I expected, Risa Jones.” She held out her hand, forcing me to reciprocate. Her skin felt like old parchment. “From our would-be dictator’s description, I was waiting for someone far more … homely.”
Not being homely wouldn’t usually be considered an insult but, somehow, this woman made it so. “Two barbs in one sentence. That’s pretty impressive.”