Darkness Rising: The Dark Angel Series: Book Two (38 page)

“The witch who raised the soul stealer can’t be behind the theft.”

“Of course not. She’s dead.” I raised my gaze to his. “But what about the third person in the consortium?”

“We do not know who that person really is, let alone if he’s even a practitioner.”

“Yeah,” I said impatiently, “but the two we
did
find weren’t witches or sorcerers, so how did they even know about the ley intersection and the potential power they’d gain by controlling it?”

“Maybe the witch told them.”

“But they were buying up properties long
before
they employed her to raise the soul stealer. And that implies they already knew about the ley lines.”

“Ley lines are not something a nonmagical person would be aware of, let alone see.”

“Meaning the third person, whoever he is, is either magic-aware or a practitioner of some kind.”

His gaze narrowed. “Why then would he employ another practitioner to do his dirty work?”

“Subterfuge. Remember, we caught the witch in the end, but we never caught the third member of the consortium.” I shrugged. “It’s only a theory …”

“But a plausible one.”

Pleasure slithered through me—which was absurd and probably spoke more of my exhaustion than anything else. “Of course, unless Stane can uncover some paperwork that will give us a lead as to who that last person is, we really can’t do anything more.”

“Why not talk to the Brindle? They would at least know whether there are any dark practitioners active in the city.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Ilianna is going to owe the Brindle big time as it is. I don’t want her under a greater obligation.”

“I didn’t mean that she should talk to them. I meant that you should.”

“Me?” I couldn’t help the surprise in my voice. “I
doubt they’d discuss that sort of stuff with an outsider like me. I’m not even a witch.”

“But did Kiandra not tell you where to find Selwin and then give you permission to come to this place? Did she not warn you that the Brindle is not safe from the Aedh? I think that one knows more about this situation than you currently believe.”

“Ilianna might have said something to her mom. And we did ask her to translate the text in the Dušan’s book.”

He acknowledged the possibility with a slight nod. “I still think it’s worth talking to her.”

“Then I will talk to her. But not tonight.” I glanced past him as Ilianna and her two stretcher bearers reappeared and pushed away from the tree trunk to join the procession.

“He’s still burning up,” I murmured, lightly touching Tao’s gaunt face. It was as if the fires were consuming him from the inside out. I shivered and glanced up at Ilianna. “You’ll let me know if anything changes in the next couple of hours?”

Relief washed across her face. “Don’t tell me you’re actually going home to rest?”

“If I don’t, I’m not going to be of any use to anyone—even myself.” I kissed my fingertips then brushed them across Tao’s fire-touched lips. “Come back to us, my friend. We need you.”

Ilianna gripped my hand and squeezed it lightly. “If there’s a way to heal him, we’ll find it.”

As the two women loaded Tao into the back of the van, I gave Ilianna a hug. “Don’t promise them too much,” I whispered. “Your life is worth just as much as his. Don’t exchange one for the other.”

She pulled away and smiled, although we both knew it was forced. “A life for a life is not something the Brindle would ask.”

I didn’t mean literally and she knew it. “Kiandra wants you back at the Brindle. She may use this as a lever.”

“If I was to go back to the Brindle, it would have to be done willingly, with no form of inducement. The building and the magic would not accept my presence otherwise.”

I raised my eyebrows, but she waved away my questions before I even asked them. “Trust me to do what is best for both myself and for Tao,” she said softly.

“I do.” I gave her another hug then stepped away. She climbed into the back of the van with one of the gray-clad witches, then the driver closed the door and climbed into the front. Five minutes later they were gone and the normal night sounds of the forest returned.

I sighed and slowly walked across to Ilianna’s car. Thankfully, she’d left the keys in the ignition, because I hadn’t even thought to ask for them.

I opened the door, then stopped and looked across to Azriel. “You might have to come with me, just to make sure I don’t fall asleep at the wheel.”

“Why not let me transport you home? We can retrieve the car later.”

Because I don’t want to be that close to you.
It was disturbing on far too many levels. Then I sighed, reached in, and grabbed the car keys. I was being an idiot again.

I turned and caught a brief glimpse of annoyance before his expression cleared again. I really,
really
needed to keep my thoughts in check.

I locked the car and forced a smile. “Okay, brave sir, whisk me away to safety on your wild white steed.”

He walked toward me, his strides long and graceful. “I am not brave, but merely do what I am assigned to do, and I do not possess a white horse. That sentence does not make sense.”

I didn’t rise to the bait—and bait it was, given the amusement teasing the corners of his lips. He wrapped his arms around me, and I did my best to ignore his closeness and the way his body seemed to fit perfectly against mine, not to mention the musky, enticing scent of him.

Power surged—a song that ran through every part of me, taking what I was, making it more, making it less, until there was no me, no him, just the sum of the two of us—energy beings with no flesh to hold us in place.

Then the forest was gone and we were on the gray fields, and somehow everything seemed brighter, more beautiful, and so damn tranquil that I wanted to cry. It almost seemed like I was seeing it clearer than I ever had before.

And then something happened.

The gray fields shuddered. Shifted.
Leaned.
As if it were a structure from which one of its main supports had been removed. The brightness flickered briefly then returned, but the tranquility was gone, replaced by a sudden uneasiness.

Then the fields were gone and I was back in my room at the Langham. I pulled away from Azriel, my heart going a million miles an hour as I said, “What the hell just happened?”

“That,” he said grimly, “was the answer to your previous question.”

No, I thought.
No.
I licked dry lips and said, “And just which question are we talking about?”

And all the while, the litany inside my head was going,
No, no, no. Please God no.

“Remember wondering what the thief planned to do with the key?” He thrust a hand through his matted hair, and the sheer depth of the anger and frustration rolling off him just about stole my breath. “Well, that movement we felt in the gray fields was our answer. They’ve forced the first portal open.”

I all but collapsed onto the bed. “Oh, fuck,” I whispered.

“Indeed,” he agreed. “The shit has well and truly hit the fan.”

And it was all our fault, because we’d had the key in our hands and still had managed to lose it.

“We need to stop this, Risa, before it goes any further.”

I raised my gaze to his. “How? We’re doing all that we can right now.”

“But it’s not enough. These people obviously seek the destruction of both our worlds, and they are still out there.”

“That doesn’t answer the question, Azriel.”

“No.” He spun away, walked to the window, every movement screaming of anger. “We do what we have
to do—we track down these people by whatever means necessary.”

By whatever means necessary.

I had a bad feeling the days ahead were going to get very long and very dark.

And very fucking bloody.

And if you missed it, be sure to pick up

Darkness Unbound

by

K
KERI
A
RTHUR,

the first exciting installment of Risa’s story.

Available now.

Here’s a special preview:

I’
VE ALWAYS SEEN THE REAPERS.

Even as a toddler—with little understanding of spirits, death, or the horrors that lie in the shadows—I’d been aware of them. As I’d gotten older and my knowledge of the mystical had strengthened, I’d begun to call them Death, because the people I’d seen them following had always died within a day or so.

In my teenage years, I learned who and what they really were. They called themselves reapers, and they were collectors of souls. They took the essence—the spirit—of the dying and escorted them onto the next part of their journey, be that heaven or hell.

The reapers weren’t flesh-and-blood beings, although they could attain that form if they wished. They were creatures of light and shadows—and an energy so fierce, their mere presence burned across my skin like flame.

Which is how I’d sensed the one now following me. He was keeping his distance, but the heat of him sang through the night, warming my skin and stirring the embers of fear. I swallowed heavily and tried to stay calm. After all, being the daughter of one of Melbourne’s most powerful psychics had its benefits—and one of those was a knowledge of my own death.
It would come many years from now, in a stupid car accident.

Of course, it was totally possible that I’d gotten the timing of my death wrong. My visions weren’t always as accurate as my mother’s, so maybe the death I’d seen in my future was a whole lot closer than I’d presumed.

And it was also a fact that not all deaths actually happened when they were
supposed
to. That’s why there were ghosts—they were the souls uncollected by reapers, either because their deaths had come
before
their allotted time, or because they’d refused the reapers’ guidance. Either way, the end result was the same. The souls were left stranded between this world and the next.

I shoved my hands into the pockets of my leather jacket and walked a little faster. There was no outrunning the reapers—I knew that—but I still couldn’t help the instinctive urge to try.

Around me, the day was only just dawning. Lygon Street gleamed wetly after the night’s rain, and the air was fresh and smelled ever so faintly of spring. The heavy bass beat coming from the nearby wolf clubs overran what little traffic noise there was, and laughter rode the breeze—a happy sound that did little to chase the chill from my flesh.

It was a chill caused not by an icy morning, but rather by the ever-growing tide of fear.

Why was the reaper following
me?

As I crossed over to Pelham Street, my gaze flicked to the nearby shop windows, searching again for the shadow of death.

Reapers came in all shapes and sizes, often taking
the form most likely to be accepted by those they’d come to collect. I’m not sure what it said about me that
my
reaper was shirtless, tattooed, and appeared to be wearing some sort of sword strapped across his back.

A reaper with a weapon? Now,
that
was something I’d never come across before. But maybe he knew I wasn’t about to go lightly.

I turned into Ormond Place and hurried toward the private parking lot my restaurant shared with several other nearby businesses. There was no sound of steps behind me, no scent of another, yet the reaper’s presence burned all around me—a heat I could feel on my skin and within my mind.

Sometimes being psychic like my mom
really
sucked.

I wrapped my fingers around my keys and hit the automatic opener. As the old metal gate began to grind and screech its way to one side, I couldn’t help looking over my shoulder.

My gaze met the reaper’s. His face was chiseled, almost classical in its beauty, and yet possessing a hard edge that spoke of a man who’d won more than his fair share of battles. His eyes were blue—one a blue as vivid and as bright as a sapphire, the other almost a navy, and as dark and stormy as the sea.

Awareness flashed through those vivid, turbulent depths—an awareness that seemed to echo right through me. It was also an awareness that seemed to be accompanied, at least on his part, by surprise.

For several heartbeats neither of us moved, and then he simply disappeared. One second he was there, and the next he wasn’t.

I blinked, wondering if it was some sort of trick.
Reapers, like the Aedh, could become energy and smoke at will, but—for me, at least—it usually took longer than the blink of an eye to achieve. Of course, I was only half Aedh, so maybe that was the problem.

The reaper didn’t reappear, and the heat of his presence no longer burned through the air or shivered through my mind. He’d gone. Which was totally out of character for a reaper, as far as I knew.

I mean, they were collectors of
souls.
It was their duty to hang about until said soul was collected. I’d never known of one to up and disappear the moment he’d been spotted—although given that the ability to actually spot them was a rare one, this probably wasn’t an everyday occurrence.