Darkness Splintered (DA 6) (20 page)

He studied me for a moment, then said, “What of your uncle?”

I frowned. “What of him?”

“Did he not study to become a priest?”

My confusion grew. “Yes, but that’s not going to help us get into my father’s quarters.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Azriel replied. “But it is very rare for a half Aedh to undergo priest training, and that alone suggests he’s more than likely extremely powerful.”

Which was something I’d never really thought about before. I mean, sure, I knew he’d undergone training, but it had never struck me to ask 
why
 a half-breed had even been allowed near the temples. Unless, of course, the priests were in short supply even back then.

“Powerful or not, from what my father said, we won’t be getting into his and Lucian’s quarters without some sort of access code.” I finished the slice of pizza and licked a few cheese remnants off my fingers. “Besides, we don’t need Uncle Quinn to get into the temples. You can do that, can’t you?”

“I can, yes, but it is unlikely I would be able to access the inner sanctums, and that is no doubt where your father’s quarters are. Only the initiates are quartered in the outer rings, and we Mijai rarely have need to go any farther.”

So once again my father hadn’t been completely honest. What a surprise. “I really don’t want to involve Uncle Quinn, if only because it’ll drag Riley into the equation.”

“Your uncle is more than capable of keeping information from your aunt,” Azriel commented. “He is Aedh as much as vampire, remember.”

“Yeah, but she’s one hell of a telepath.” And she could spot someone keeping a secret a mile away. How the hell I’d managed to keep the fact I was working for Hunter to myself for so long, I’ll never know.

Of course, it 
did
 help that I’d recently missed our weekly cake and Coke catch-up sessions. If I hadn’t, I’d probably be locked up somewhere right now while she gathered the troops and took off after Hunter.

“I still think you should talk to him,” Azriel said. “He might also be able to offer suggestions when it comes to Hunter and Stanford.”

“Maybe.” I drained the can of Coke, smothered a loud burp, then added, “Let’s go check out that warehouse first. If we have no luck there, I’ll consider talking to Uncle Quinn.”

Azriel nodded, then rose and held out a hand. I placed my fingers in his and he tugged me upward. I grabbed my coat, then locked the front door and once again melted into the warmth of his arms. A heartbeat later we were outside the old West Street warehouse that contained the first of the cuneiform stones we’d found.

It was one of those old two-story, redbrick places inner-city renovators seemed to love. The wind rattled the rusted iron roof and whistled through the small, regularly spaced windows, many of which were broken, but overall it was in pretty good shape. Like many of the other buildings in the area, its walls were littered with graffiti and tags, and rubbish lay in drifting piles along its length.

But while it looked abandoned, there was an odd, almost watchful stillness about the place. It was a stillness that seemed to affect the immediate surrounds, which were unnervingly quiet. Even the roar of the traffic traveling along nearby Smith Street seemed muted.

I shivered, despite the heat rolling off the man standing so close. “Can you sense anything or anyone in or near the warehouse?”

He shook his head and pressed his fingers against my spine, ushering me forward. “Nothing but rats.”

“Just like last time,” I murmured. And I had to hope it was a case of second time lucky when it came to this place. I really didn’t fancy falling into a pit and I certainly didn’t want to confront more damn hellhounds.

There were two entrances here on West Street. The first one was heavily padlocked and seemed to lead into an old office area. The other was a roller door over what had once been a loading bay, and this was where we’d gotten in previously. I glanced down at the bottom-right-hand edge. Someone had obviously tried to fix the hole, because it was far smaller than it used to be. But there was still a section that provided just enough of a gap for a skinny person – which I certainly was these days – to get in.

“The real question here,” Azriel said, “is whether you’ll be able to get in this time.”

“And if I can, do I really want to?” I rubbed my arms, but it didn’t do much to chase away the gathering chill. “I haven’t even got Jak to shore up my courage this time.”

“No,” he said softly. “But you could destroy the wards. That would allow me entry.”

“And no doubt notify the sorcerer that we’ve found this place.”

“True. But I suspect that – sooner rather than later – we’re going to have to do that if we wish to find their gateway onto the field.”

I stopped in front of the door and scanned it for any additional signs of security, electronic or otherwise. “That’s if it 
is
here. There’s no guarantee of that.”

“It has to be here somewhere, if only because of its proximity to the intersection.” He paused, then added, “I can sense no magic other than the shield.”

And I couldn’t sense 
anything
. I took a deep, somewhat quivering breath, but it didn’t do a lot to ease the growing tide of tension. “Wish me luck.”

“I wish you safety,” he replied. “As you have noted on numerous occasions, luck is a bitch who seems to have abandoned us.”

Laughter bubbled through me as my gaze shot to his. “Azriel! Did you just swear?”

He raised his eyebrows, his expression bemused, though amusement danced in his bright eyes. “Is not a bitch a female dog? How is that swearing?”

I grinned, knowing he was teasing and trying to lighten my mood. I leaned forward and kissed him. “Thank you,” I murmured, my lips so close to his I could taste every breath.

“You are most welcome.” He gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “Just be careful in there.”

“I will.” I stepped away from the warmth of his touch, then took another of those deep breaths that did little to calm the butterflies, and stepped toward the roller door.

Energy skittered across my skin, the sensation sharp and unpleasant. I ignored it and got down on my hands and knees to squeeze through the small hole. The sensation increased, until it felt as if I was being swarmed by sand flies. My skin twitched and crawled, and I had to bite my lip against the desire to back out. However unpleasant the sensation was, it 
wasn’t
actually stopping me. I guess that was something I had to be thankful for, even if I really didn’t want to enter this place alone.

Once inside, I stood up, dusting off my hands as I stepped away from the door. The stinging sensation eased immediately.

“I’m in,” I said, rather unnecessarily.

“Can you see or sense anything?”

I looked around. The light that filtered in through the grimy windows highlighted the dust and rubbish lying in drifting piles along the loading bay’s ramp. Three doors led off the platform that ran around the sides of the dock, and there were stairs down at the far end that led up to them. I could neither see nor smell anything or anyone out of the ordinary, but I hadn’t last time, either. But there 
was
 something here – something that crawled along the edges of my psychic senses.

Magic.

“They haven’t abandoned this place, that’s one certainty.” I drew Amaya. Flames rippled down her sides, casting a lilac glow across the nearby concrete.

“If this is where they hide the gateway onto the fields, it would be highly illogical for them to do so,” he said. “But they will more than likely have added additional security. Tread warily.”

“I did that last time, and still fell through the goddamn floor.”

“So this time don’t ignore intuition when it suggests something is wrong.”

“That would be totally logical, and you know I don’t always work that way.”

“Unfortunately, that is very true.” His voice was wry, and I smiled as I cautiously moved up the ramp. The last time we’d been here, Jak and I had chosen the middle door of the three that were situated on this upper level, and had subsequently triggered a trap. Maybe a change of entry point would change my luck.

I stopped at the first door and scanned it for anything out of place. It was one of those half-glass doors, but enough paint had peeled off the lower section that the grime had stained the wood almost black. There didn’t appear to be any sort of security – magic or otherwise – so I reached for the door handle. The damn thing was locked. Which wasn’t surprising if they wanted to direct all traffic to the middle door. But having sprung that trap once, I wasn’t about to go there again.

I bent and peered at the lock. It looked solid enough, but the same could not be said about the frame. It very much looked as if sometime in the past, someone had kicked this door good and hard and had taken some of the frame with it. And though it had been patched, I suspected it wouldn’t take much to force it open again. I clenched my hand and gave the door a thump. It sprung open instantly. I caught the edge before it could smash back against the wall, then closed it again, making sure it still looked locked.

The room itself had obviously been a small office, though it held nothing more than the remnants of a whiteboard, a broken office chair, and strings of dusty cobwebs. I moved on. The next door wasn’t locked, and it led into a room that was long and dark. Given there was no wall to my left, it also had to be the same room that held the trapdoor into the pit. I glanced down sharply, seeing bare concrete rather than wooden flooring, but didn’t immediately move. The uneasy sensation of magic crawled around me, and I wasn’t about to ignore it.

“Amaya, flare brighter.”

She did so. Her flames revealed the room was twice the size I’d imagined. The roof soared high above me, snaked with metal lines and some sort of conveyer system. Several small offices sat on the right-hand side of the building, and the concrete was stained with rust lines and grime, reminders of machines that had once stood here. To the left, there was that large square of wooden flooring Jak and I had fallen through the first time. Obviously, whoever had made that trap had repaired it after we’d left.

“Why would they set the trap over only one door?” My voice echoed in the cavernous room and something seemed to stir in the shadows down the far end. Or maybe that was simply imagination and fear.

The stairs are closest to the middle door, so most of those who use them would logically choose that door
. Azriel’s voice held a hint of amusement. 
Why do you ask the question out loud rather than in your thoughts?

“Because I don’t feel so alone.” Which was stupid, because I was.

Not,
 Amaya grumbled. 
Am here
.

Yeah, but it’s not quite the same hanging on to you as it is Azriel
.

Her static filled the far reaches of my mind. I might not understand it, but I was pretty sure she was swearing at me. I ignored her and stepped forward, every muscle tense, ready to jump should the concrete show the slightest inclination to drop out from underneath me. When it didn’t, I took another step. The crawling sensation of magic grew no worse or better. I bit my lip and walked on, moving past the wooden flooring that concealed a trap and into the warehouse proper. Though I scanned high and low, I couldn’t see anything that suggested this place had been recently used in 
any
 way.

I checked out the offices to the right, but didn’t find anything more than rubbish – although in the last one there was a large rat’s nest. It had been made with shredded paper, odd strips of material and wiring, and what creepily looked like human hair. Hair that was dark and long.

I wondered if it had come from someone who’d stumbled into the pit and, unlike us, hadn’t been able to escape.

I shivered, but let the rats be and continued on. I was about halfway down when I felt it.

Not magic, but something else. Air stirred the hairs on the back of my neck, cool and almost otherworldly, sending goose bumps skittering across my skin. I stopped, my grip tightening on Amaya.

There was nothing here. Nothing but shadows in the far reaches of the building where Amaya’s flames did not reach.

I glanced toward the street. Several windows had been broken along this section, so it was logical that the air would stir. The wind might be light outside, but it was nevertheless there, and it wasn’t about to hurt me. I scanned those shadows again.

Still nothing.

“Azriel, has anything changed? Can you sense anything other than me and the rats in this place?”

No. But if you fear something, retreat. It is not worth the risk.

“I can’t retreat every time I feel threatened,” I muttered. “I’d never get anything fucking done.”

The trouble with
 that 
statement,
 he said, mental tone exasperated, 
is the fact you
 haven’t 
retreated. Not once.

“That’s an exaggeration. I 
have
 retreated, and you know it. I’m not that much of a fool.”

What sounded like a mental snort rolled down the line between us. I ignored him and continued on.

The air stirred again, this time whisking behind me, making the small hairs at the nape of my neck stand on end.

Something definitely 
was
 here.

I stopped again. 
Amaya, can you sense anything?

No foe,
 she said. 
No fair.

I half smiled, despite the tension running through me. She was obviously feeling a little put out. I mean, it had been 
hours
since she’d killed anything.

Funny not,
 she muttered.

My smile grew. I walked on, my gaze constantly scanning the walls and the floor, looking for some clue as to what might be here, and whether it was dangerous. I couldn’t see or sense anything untoward. Even the dark caress of magic began to fade as I moved farther from the pit trap, until it was little more than a faint buzz of wrongness that scratched at the far edges of my senses.