Darkness Splintered (DA 6) (15 page)

“Him, yes, but it is questionable whether he would have offered the same sort of protection to Lauren. Or anyone else who might have used the cuneiform stones.”

“True.” I turned and headed down the hall to check the other bedrooms. One contained the second body and the other was empty. The cuneiform stones that had stood in the third bedroom had disappeared as completely as their kin in the courtyard. “I wonder where the other Razan are?”

“Undoubtedly lying dead somewhere,” Azriel said. “And if we’re very lucky, perhaps those misbegotten shifters that have attacked us both times we attempted to get the keys have suffered the same fate.”

I shot him a glance. “Why would they? It was dark magic that created them, not Aedh.”

Amusement briefly touched his lips. “I did say
if
we were lucky.” He held out a hand. “There is nothing more we can do here. Shall we move on to Stane’s?”

“I think we should search the place first. Maybe we’ll find something helpful.”

“I very much doubt it.”

But he helped me search regardless, and we found exactly what he’d expected – nothing.

This time, when he held out a hand, I allowed him to tug me into his embrace. I suppose I should have called the Directorate – or at least Uncle Rhoan – to report these deaths, but I really wasn’t up to facing all the questions that would undoubtedly follow. Besides, it would take far too much time, and we didn’t have enough of that left as it was.

We appeared inside Stane’s electronics shop in Clifton Hill. The camera above us immediately buzzed into action, swinging around to track our movements. Not that we could go far – the shimmer of light surrounding the small entrance was warning enough that a containment shield was in action. Azriel could – and had, in the past – delivered us upstairs, where Stane’s computer “bridge” and living quarters were, but Stane had just about had a heart attack at our sudden appearance.

“Hey, Stane, it’s Risa and Azriel.” I smiled up at the camera. “Turn off the shield so we can come up.”

“Your wish is my command.” His warm tones had a tinny sound as it echoed from the small speaker near the camera. The shimmer surrounding us flared briefly, then died. “And thank you for the case of champagne you sent. It makes late night gaming all that much more enjoyable.”

I snorted softly and headed for the stairs at the rear of his overcrowded, dusty shop. “I would have thought alcohol and serious gaming didn’t mix.”

“Depends on who you’re playing with.” He appeared at the top of the stairs, his grin wide. “And if there’s a bet involving sexual games on the line. Letting her win wouldn’t be a bad thing in this particular case.”

I laughed, bounded up the steps, and kissed his cheek. Stane looked a lot like his building – a slender, unholy mess. I’m actually surprised he didn’t carry a layer of dust over his clothes like the building itself – although it was only the street level portion of the building that had
that
particular problem, and it didn’t really matter, because the computer shop itself was little more than a front for his black marketeering. And
that
equipment, like his computer bridge, was kept upstairs in pristine condition.

“Don’t tell me the lovely Holly was brave enough to challenge you to a
game
?”

Holly was a werewolf Stane had reluctantly met at the insistence of his mother – and hers. And, to everyone’s surprise but their respective mothers, fireworks had apparently happened.

“Not only that, but she’s been here, and she
didn’t
try to dust the place.” He stepped back and ushered us through to his living area. “I think I’m in love.”

“Certainly sounds like you’re smitten,” I said. “But is she aware that you don’t wash or iron?”

“I wash
most
days,” he said, expression offended but amusement dancing across his lips. “It’s only when I’m deep in a game that I don’t – something she’d understand because she’s a gamer herself. I tell you, she’s perfect.”

I grinned. “So your mom was right, after all.”

He grunted as he sat down in front of the curving sweep of light screens. “Something I am
not
going to tell her until I absolutely have to. The gloating will be horrendous. What can I do for you?”

“Did you and your friend in Brisbane happen to get the surveillance up and running on Lauren Macintyre’s Gold Coast place?”

“Certainly did.” He grinned, swung around in his chair, and lightly swiped several icons on the screen directly in front of him. Boxed images tiled onto the screen to his left. “Nothing much actually happens until this one.”

He leant sideways and flicked one of the small boxes over to another screen. Lauren Macintyre jumped into view, impeccably dressed in what had to be a designer dress and shoes. She stood in the middle of the bedroom, and barked out orders to the half-dozen men moving a steady stream of boxes piled high with her designer dresses and shoes out of the wardrobe, taking them god knows where.

“When was this recorded?” I narrowed my eyes and leaned closer to the screen. There was something not quite right with those men…

“Four days ago now,” Stane replied.

So she’d packed up and left
before
Lucian had died.

Suggesting,
Azriel commented,
that she somehow discovered your intrusion into her house. Perhaps that is why the storage place was also destroyed.

Yes.
The bitch had been covering her tracks and finding a new hole to hide in – although undoubtedly it was a luxurious hole. She didn’t seem the three-star type, that was for sure.

“Have you tried to identify any of the men?” I asked Stane.

“I’ve done a run through VicRoads’s databases,” he said, “but couldn’t come up with a license match for any of them. I’m currently hacking into police files to see if I can find a match there somewhere.”

One of the men on the screen turned to face the camera and shock coursed through me. It was one of the half-human, half-animal beings that had attacked us at the Military Fair when the second key had been stolen from under our noses.

And if Lauren was using them, then she was more tied up with the dark sorcerer than we’d figured.

“Fuck it all to hell,” I muttered.

“To put it politely.” Azriel’s voice was grim. “Perhaps
she
is the reason the beings of those men are so twisted and unnatural. It would take a great deal of dark magic to so alter flesh
and
soul. More, perhaps, than one person – however strong a sorcerer – has.”

I shot him a glance. “Could not the same be said for the ley-line gate? Perhaps it took all three of them to create it.” I hesitated. “If that
is
the case, would Lucian’s death have altered their ability to use it?”

“I am no expert on magic,” Azriel said. “But I suspect it would not. The ley-line gate might have been created by a coalition, but I have no doubt they would have ensured it drew its power from the ley intersection itself. No human could create – even through black magic – enough magic to keep a portal onto the fields active for long.”

“Damn.” So much for the hope that Lucian’s death might have some benefit other than just permanently getting the bastard out of my life.

I glanced at Stane, who had a somewhat bemused expression on his face. But then, while he was familiar with our key search, he had no idea what we were talking about when it came to the magic-twisted half shifters. And I didn’t bother enlightening him. “Do you still have access to the security cam records of that storage place in Clifton Hill?”

“Yes, but didn’t that place blow up?”

I nodded. “I want to have a look at the hours between you first contacting me about Genevieve Sands entering the building and the building blowing up.”

“Sure thing.” He grinned. “But you can make me a coffee and something to eat while I hunt them down again.”

“Deal.” I pushed to my feet and made us both a toasted Vegemite and cheese sandwich – he didn’t have much else in his fridge – and by the time I’d deposited both that and a mug of coffee in front of Stane, he’d found the records and had relayed them to another screen.

I pulled up a chair and watched as I munched on my meal.

“What are we looking for?” Stane said, as he scooted his chair next to mine.

“Me.”

He blinked and looked confused. “Why are we looking for you? Don’t you remember going there?”

I grinned. “Yes. But something the receptionist said to me before she died —”

“You were
in
there when the place exploded?” Stane interrupted, his voice incredulous. “Are you insane?”

“
That
is a much debated point,” Azriel commented dryly.

The peanut gallery can keep those sort of remarks to themselves,
I said, amused.

I will restrain the urge to say that comment makes no sense.

Grin growing, I said to Stane, “I was. Someone had to check whether the explosion had destroyed that locker we were interested in.”

“Which it did.” He took a sip of coffee. “So what did the receptionist say that tweaked your radar?”

“Not much, just ‘You changed again.’”

“As you said, not much.”

“No. But when she saw me the first time, I’d face-changed. So why would she say something like that when it was actually the first time she’d seen the real me?”

“It could have been shock,” Stane mused. “Or maybe the person who blew up the place was a vampire. They’ve been known to play hard and fast with other people’s memories when it suits their purposes.”

“True, but what interest would a vampire have in blowing up that place? And why make the receptionist think it was me going in there?”

“It could have been someone from the council,” Azriel said. “Perhaps Hunter wanted to know firsthand what we were doing in there.”

“She has the Cazadors following me around twenty-four seven. Any one of them could have checked astrally rather than physically, and no one would have been the wiser.”

“But Hunter also has enemies on the council,” Azriel noted. “Perhaps Stanford has a desire to discover what lay in that storage unit for himself.”

“Why would he have someone use my image, though?”

“That I cannot tell you.”

“Whoever this person impersonating you is,” Stane commented, “they don’t necessarily have to be a face shifter. Actors have been changing the shape of their faces and bodies for years with makeup, padding, and stuff.”

“True, but in this case, unlikely.”

“But two sorcerers
and
two face shifters?” Stane said. “That’s pushing the coincidences, don’t you think?”

Probably. I took a sip of coffee as I watched the images scroll across the screen. Hoddle Street was awash with cars, but there wasn’t a lot of foot traffic. Which was good, I guess – it would make spotting the fake me easier. If there
was
a fake me, and I wasn’t just grabbing at straws.

“If it
is
a coincidence, then yes,” Azriel commented. “But Lucian’s plans were centuries in the making. It is entirely possible he brought both sorcerers into this quest not only because they were powerful, but because their abilities would make it difficult for anyone to track them down.”

“There
is
one other possibility,” Stane said, as he bent to put his now empty plate on the floor under his desk.

I raised an eyebrow. “And that is?”

“That you’re dealing with shifters capable of
full
-body shifts,” he said. “Hell, there might only be one shifter, not two, and he or she is able to take on both male and female form.”

I wrinkled my nose. “We did think of that, but full-body shifters are extremely rare. And I’ve never heard of any shifter being able to change their sex.”

“Hermaphrodites are rare, but they can and do exist. What if we were dealing with one of those?”

If we were dealing with a hermaphrodite capable of full shifting, then heaven help us, because they’d be next to impossible to find.

“It could explain why Nadler listed Harry Bulter, Jim O’Reilly,
and
Genevieve Sands in his will,” Stane continued. “He was hedging his bets and relying on the fact that most people think shifters are human-to-animal capable, not human-to-human.”

Nadler was the man behind the company who’d purchased most of the properties surrounding the ley-line intersection. In fact, only Stane’s shop and the pub down the road remained independent. He was also, more than likely, one of the sorcerers.

I glanced at Stane briefly. “So have you found either Bulter or O’Reilly?”

Stane shook his head. “No. And I’ve been keeping an eye on the solicitors handling his estate – they haven’t tracked them down, either.”

“Well, they have to have existed at some point, because Nadler couldn’t just appear out of nowhere as one of them and expect to be handed everything on a platter.”

“Totally,” Stane said. “Which is why I’ve been searching overseas databases. Not having much luck, though.”

That
seemed to be the story of this whole damn quest. I sighed and continued watching the images scroll across the screen as the time in the left-hand corner of the screen counted down toward the explosion at the storage place. At the twenty-minutes-before mark, my double strolled into view.

“Well,” Stane said. “You were right.”

Yes. And it was somewhat disturbing to look at the woman on the screen, knowing the face and body were the image of mine but someone else was inside the shell. Hell, she was even dressed like I was most of the time these days, in blue jeans and a tank top. My gaze skimmed down to her feet.

“Holy shit, the
shoes.
”

I leaned forward so abruptly that coffee splashed over the rim of my mug and splattered onto my legs. I swore and jumped up, spilling yet more coffee. Azriel plucked the mug from my hand – thereby preventing more damage to either me or Stane’s floor – while I quickly pulled the soaked dress away from my skin to prevent further burning.

“You okay?” Stane asked. “Do you want a cloth or something?”