by Keri Arthur
I tightened my grip on the ax’s wooden handle as the creature tried to wrest it from my hands. It yanked me forward, into its body, clogging my senses with its reek as it snapped at my face with its teeth. I jerked backward, felt its canines slide down my cheek—marking but not cutting flesh—and lashed Amaya sideways, almost slicing it in half. Blood spurted and it howled, but it didn’t let go, tossing me left and right as it tried to win control of the ax.
Then two more creatures hit us, their momentum so fierce they sent us all tumbling over the railing and onto the floor below. We landed in a screaming tumble of arms and legs, the jolt so fierce that my breath whooshed out of my lungs and knives of pain speared my newly healed ribs. The pickax went flying from my grip, but Amaya stuck like glue, her blade flaming and her murderous hissing strong and clear in my mind.
She wanted blood. I gave it to her, swinging wildly at the nearest creatures as they scrambled to get up … after the pickax or simply wanting to get clear of the murderous blade?
I pushed backward, out from underneath the last of the creatures, then staggered to my feet. I was barely upright when the creatures flung themselves at me. But even as I backed away, slashing left and right with the sword, the strangeness of their behavior had me frowning. If they were intending to attack, why wait until I was on my feet to do so? And why, when there were three of them, did they not simply attack en masse rather than one at a time?
It made no sense.
Not the way these creatures were behaving, and certainly not the fact they were even here. If the Raziq were behind this, why didn’t they come themselves? Why risk sending these creatures when the three of us could never best a full complement of Aedh, no matter what Lucian and Azriel might think?
Claws lashed at me. I jumped back, hissing in pain as the movement jarred my ribs, but this time I wasn’t quick enough to get out of the creature’s way and its claws caught my jacket, tearing it to ribbons. But again, it didn’t slice into flesh.
They definitely weren’t trying to kill me. Despite the murderous light in their eyes and the desperate hunger that filled the air, something—or someone—had leashed them.
And there could be only one reason. Someone other than the Raziq, the reapers, and the vampire council was after the keys.
Even as the thought crossed my mind, energy caressed the room. An energy that was dark, ungodly, and bitter. My skin crawled in response, and Amaya’s hissing became so fierce it just about shattered my eardrums.
It wasn’t the energy of the Raziq. It was something else. Something that could make a demon sword burn with anticipation.
And she was burning. The black blade had given way to fierce purple flames that licked out across the shadows, burning everything she touched—be it flesh or furniture.
In the light of her fire, I saw the figure. It was man-shaped and indistinct, and it moved with speed, half searching under tables and in the deeper shadows.
It wasn’t one of the creatures, and it was looking for the ax.
“No!” I yelled, and swung Amaya as hard as I could, battering away the nearest creature, forcing it backward with the force of the blow even as the black blade sliced it apart. Blood spewed, spraying across my face and body, covering me in its putrid, sticky stench, but I didn’t care, diving toward the shadow in a desperate attempt to stop it.
Then the last of the three creatures who’d tumbled down with me hit my legs, dragging me down. My chin hit the edge of a chair and for a moment I saw stars. I cursed, kicking at the thing holding me. Bone cracked and more blood spurted, its scent stinging the air. The creature held on, screaming in fury and pain, but not attacking.
Ahead, the indistinct form bent and reached for something. The ax. I twisted and wildly swung Amaya at the thing holding me in place. The blade bit through the creature’s neck and my legs, severing the creature’s head but not even scratching me as it passed through my flesh.
Even headless, the fucking thing wouldn’t let go.
And then it was too late, because the dark, bitter energy fell abruptly away, and the shadowy figure was gone.
As was the ax.
Chapter Thirteen
A DOZEN DIFFERENT SWEAR WORDS RACED through my mind, but I didn’t bother saying them. I swung Amaya again, this time slicing away the arms that still held me so tightly. As the limbs fell away from the creature’s body, I kicked it off me and staggered to my feet. Someone hit the ground behind me and I swung around, Amaya raised. It was Azriel. He was covered not only in the stinking blood of the creatures, but in his own. Wounds crisscrossed his stomach and right arm, and blood seeped down the fingers that gripped Valdis.
His gaze swept me, then he said, “The ax?”
“Gone. And it wasn’t the Raziq.”
He swore—at least I think he swore because it wasn’t any language I understood—and thrust a hand through his damp hair. “I was not aware that there was anyone else after the keys.”
“That makes two of us,” I muttered, and glanced up as something moved on the floor above us.
Lucian appeared, leaning over the side, his face bruised, clothes torn, but a fierce light in his eyes. “Everyone okay?”
“Yeah, but the ax is gone.”
He leapt over the railing, landing with grace and little noise. “The Raziq, I gather?”
I shook my head. “Not unless the Raziq use blood magic.”
“Blood magic?” He stopped to one side of Azriel, smelling of sweat and blood and anger barely leashed. “Why would you think that?”
“Because I felt it, and because I saw the man involved.”
“You saw him?” Azriel said quickly, then his gaze narrowed. “No. You only saw an indistinct shape.”
“Enough to know it was a man. A tall man.” I hesitated, squashing down the instinctive flash of irritation. As he’d said, there was nothing I could do about him accessing my thoughts, so I’d better get used to it. Which was easier thought than done. “It’s a start, at least.”
Azriel’s expression suggested that as starts went, it pretty much sucked. “The magic that prevented us from leaving has dissipated. We should go.”
“I can’t. I’ll need to report this.” Because if I didn’t and Rhoan got wind of it—which he undoubtedly would—then I’d be in deep shit.
Not that I wouldn’t be in deep shit as it was.
I glanced at Lucian. “You’d better leave. There’s no sense in you being here when the Directorate arrives. That’ll only result in hours of questioning.”
“And with my workload, that is not something I desire.” He sheathed his bloodied long knives and bent to kiss my cheek. “Call me when you’re free and we can plan our next assault.”
I nodded. He touched my shoulder lightly, then gave Azriel a somewhat dark look and walked across to the café’s door, opening it with the pick then leaving.
I glanced at Azriel. “Are all the creatures dead?”
He nodded and replaced Valdis. Her blue fire had quieted, even though Amaya still hissed and spat. But flames no longer drenched her blade, and the café was no longer ablaze. So maybe her cry was a reflection of the anger and hurt that still burned inside of me.
“The magic that prevented us from taking our energy forms also smacked of the dark arts,” he said. “I suspect the source is the same.”
I nodded and wearily pulled out my phone. I eyed it for a few moments, knowing I had to call Uncle Rhoan as soon as possible but, at the same time, wanting to delay the inevitable for as long as I could.
“Who else could be after the damn keys?” I glanced at Azriel. “And why?”
“I cannot answer that.”
“But would you, if you could?”
“Yes.”
I grunted, feeling the truth of his words swirl somewhere deep inside. “I can’t understand why anyone else would even want the keys! I mean, if they can’t traverse the gray fields, they can’t get near the gates, so what’s the point of stealing them?”
&nb
sp; “It can only be another Aedh—one we know nothing about—or someone like you. Someone who wears human flesh but is gifted psychically, and who has the ability to walk the fields.”
“You left reapers out of that group.”
“Yes, because no reaper can use black magic.”
“Really? Why? Is it in your makeup or something?”
“In a sense, yes.” He shrugged.
Meaning, that was all the information I was about to get. Although, to be fair, maybe he simply didn’t know himself. “I may be able to walk the fields, but I’ve never seen the gates. In fact, as far as I know, I’ve never been anywhere near them.”
“Which does not preclude the possibility of someone else possessing the same set of skills as you not seeing or knowing of them.”
True. I rubbed a hand across my face, smearing blood, sweat, and God knew what else, then glanced down at my phone again and sighed. Better do it now, while I still had some energy to face him.
I pressed a button on the phone and said, “Uncle Rhoan.” Colors swirled across the screen as the voice-recognition software jumped into action.
A few seconds later his cheerful features replaced the multicolored swirl. “Hey Ris,” he said, but his smile quickly faded. “What the fuck has happened to you this time?”
“Long story. But you might want to get the Directorate over to the Werribee mansion. There’s a whole heap of dead, half-human-shifter things here.”
“Damn it, Risa, I told you to let me investigate the half-shifters!”
“I did. I am. This isn’t related to that, but something else.”
“The fucking keys, at a guess. Why didn’t you call in help?”
“I had help.” And probably better help than anything either he or the Directorate could provide—and safer, too, given Director Hunter’s interest in the whole affair. I had no doubt I’d catch flak over my failure to keep her informed as to what we were up to, but that was something I was willing to face. The whole idea of the vampire council getting control of the gates made my skin crawl. “Look, please, just come down here, so I can tell you what happened and then go home to scrub myself clean.”
He opened his mouth to say something, but the phone was ripped from his grasp as Aunt Riley appeared. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
“No, I’m fine.”
“Do you want me there?”
It was on my tongue to say no, then I hesitated. One of the reasons Riley was still hooked to the Directorate was her ability to talk to the dead. Or rather, the souls of the dead. “Hang on.” I glanced around, but couldn’t see any reapers other than Azriel.
“There aren’t,” he said softly. “These deaths were not ordained.”
I glanced back at the phone. “It might be worth trying to talk to the souls of these things. We might be able to learn something about their maker.”
“Good idea. I’ll bring some fresh clothes for you, too. You might want to clean yourself up first. Trust me, you’ll feel better without all that gore over you.”
I couldn’t argue with that, so I signed off and looked at Azriel. “How long before whatever you did to the guards wears off?”
“Just under an hour.”
“Time enough to find the bathroom, then.” I hesitated, my gaze sweeping his bloodied, grimy torso. “Are you okay?”
He nodded. “This is merely flesh. I am unharmed where it matters.”
“But you can be hurt—even killed—in flesh form, can’t you?”
“Killed, yes, but the wounds affecting this vessel are not painful and will heal once I claim my natural form.”
My gaze skimmed his body again. Some of those wounds looked pretty deep.
“I’m fine, Risa,” he said softly. “Go find your water. I’m sure your friends will appreciate the effort.”
In other words, I stank. I snorted softly and headed for the café door. It only took me a couple of minutes to find the bathroom and I quickly stripped off, rolling up my T-shirt and using it to wash off the worst of the gore.
Thankfully, the coat had protected my sweater, even if the left sleeve had been shredded by the shifter’s claws. But my jeans were unsalvageable. I dumped them in the waste bin along with my undies, then washed my hands and headed out, suddenly glad that my sweater was long enough to cover my butt. Although the cold night air teased me in unmentionable ways that had my pulse rate humming happily.
Or maybe that was a result of the brief look Azriel gave me as I walked back into the room. Intense didn’t even begin to describe it. And though it was a weight I felt deep inside, I wasn’t entirely sure just exactly what it meant. Frowning, I walked around the other side of the café counter to raid the cookie jar, picking out a huge chocolate chip one as well as a macadamia and white chocolate.
“So,” I said, meeting his gaze again, a little relieved that the intensity had been replaced by his more normal inscrutability. “How will we know if whoever has stolen the key has used it?”
“We will feel it.”
“We? As in, you and I, or everyone who lives in this world and the next?”
“Those who are connected to the fields or who can walk them will feel it. That’s how we became aware of the keys first being tested on the portals.”
I frowned. “I didn’t feel anything when they did that.”
He shrugged. “It might have been nothing more than a sense of unease that you weren’t able to place.”
Maybe. And maybe he was overestimating my abilities. “These people might not have stolen the key to force the portals closed.”
“No.” Grimness briefly flickered through his expression before he caught himself. “And I do not know what will happen should the gates be eternally forced open. None of us do.”
“How could it be worse than that whole human-race-becoming-zombies scenario?”
“That,” he said, and this time the grimness did more than flicker, “would be a walk in the park compared to the hordes of hell being unleashed.”
God, I thought, it would be hell on earth. Literally.
My phone rang, making me jump. I glanced down, saw it was Hunter, and mentally let loose a string of curses. I might be willing to face her fury, but I’d been hoping to get a few Cokes—or even something stronger—under my belt first.
I was tempted to ignore the call, but I was willing to bet that would just make her angrier. I answered.
“So,” she said, her voice like the Arctic, “just when were you planning to inform me about this key-finding mission? One I gather has now gone spectacularly wrong?”
“When I had the key in my hand.” Which wasn’t exactly a lie. I would have told her; I just wouldn’t have given it to her.
“Which you do not.”
“No. A trap was set and, unfortunately, we sprang it.”
“Why did you not call for help? The Cazadors—”
“If reapers and an Aedh could not stop this attack, what hope do you think the Cazadors would have?”
Her green eyes flashed dangerously. “Do not doubt the capabilities of the Cazadors. They are more powerful than you know.”
I doubted that, given I knew a whole lot about them from Uncle Quinn. “Look, Aunt Riley’s coming down—”
“I am well aware what Riley Jenson is up to. She is of no concern at this moment.”
And I bet she’d love to know that. But all I said was, “Has Selwin lifted the Maniae curse?”
“Yes. And in return, she will receive the protection of a new master when she turns.” Heat suddenly burned through the cool depths of her eyes. Heat and anticipation. “You have earned yourself quite an enemy, young Risa. I would watch your step if I were you.”
“To be honest, she can take a number and stand in line, because she’s the least of my worries.”
“That is possibly true.” She paused, and a small, cool smile touched her lips. Oh, fuck. The crap was about to hit the fan. “From now on, you will have a Cazador by your side. Day in, and day out.”
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br /> “Oh come on,” I retorted. “That’s—”
“The way it will be. Or else.” She stared at me, and though her gaze was as blank as her expression, a chill nevertheless went through me. Because that was the face of a vampire intent on a kill. And though I had Azriel and Amaya, I had a suspicion they wouldn’t be enough if Hunter decided the council was right and I needed to die.
I licked my lips, my heart going a million miles an hour as I said, “No vampire is coming into my apartment. Not you, and not this fucking Cazador you’re assigning me.”
She inclined her head. “Do not try to lose the Cazador, or I shall lose you.”
“Fine,” I muttered, then hit the END button and glanced at Azriel. “This day just keeps getting better and better.”
“Yes.” He paused, his gaze turning to the café’s door. “And I’m afraid it’s not over yet. Your friends have just arrived.”
“Bring them on. After all, what’s one more bucket-load given I’m swimming in a sea of it?” I stalked across to the refrigerator and pulled out several cans of Coke. What I really needed was to get stinkingly, mind-buzzingly drunk, but given that wasn’t an option for several hours at least, Coke would have to do.
* * *
As it turned out, it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. It wasn’t great, but I think Riley’s presence tempered the worst of Rhoan’s anger. He merely yelled at me for five minutes rather than attempting to violently shake some sense into me like I think he wanted to.
I pulled another chocolate chip cookie from the jar—a jar that had started off full but was now half empty—and watched Riley. She was squatting next to one of the half-beasts, her face almost covered by the long sweep of her red-gold hair. What I could see of her expression was distant, but her lips moved. She was talking to the soul of the creature she knelt next to, which to me was little more than a wisp of fog. I didn’t know what it was saying. And while I might yet be forced to learn how to communicate with them, I honestly preferred to stick to talking to the souls of the living. There was enough grief and pain in doing that. I didn’t need to lump the anger and confusion of a ghost on top of it.