Fireborn (31 page)

R
ory met us at the fence line and, between the two of us, we managed to get Jackson over the fence and into the car without too much further damage to his half-healed arm and leg.

“Where to?” Rory said as he retrieved the keys from under the wheel arch.

“I don't know.” I ran a trembling hand through my matted hair. “We need to go somewhere safe and regroup. This isn't over. Not by a long shot.”

“No, it's not,” Jackson said from inside the car. “But there's little we can do here. You might as well come back to my office, so we can decide where we go from here.”

I glanced at Rory, who raised his eyebrow and shrugged. “Right now, it's as good an idea as any. But you and I will need to go home sometime this evening.”

Yes, we would, if only so he could recharge. Though I'd called on the earth mother's power myself, it had been only briefly. Rory had drawn on her energy for a far longer period and, though he hadn't said anything, his skin was pale and the heat emanating from his body was muted.

We climbed into the car and headed back to the city. I flipped the vanity mirror down and kept an eye on the road behind us. But darkness was rapidly closing in, and it was damn difficult to distinguish cars that might be following us from cars that were simply going in the same direction. In the end, I gave up.

Thankfully, we arrived at Jackson's without further incident. Together we helped him inside. Though he didn't say anything, he was trembling by the time we deposited him on the sofa at the far end of his office.

“Right,” I said, rolling up my sleeves. “We all need to eat before anything else happens. Rory, you arrange drinks for everyone, and I'll rustle up some grub.”

I ran up the stairs and raided Jackson's fridge, ending up with a big platter of chicken, a variety of cheeses, and some bread that I'd roughly cut into thick slabs. I carried it down and placed it on the coffee table, grabbing a chicken leg and chunk of bread for myself before retreating to one of the chairs.

“So,” I said, once everyone else had helped themselves. “What the fuck do we do now?”

“That,” Jackson said heavily, “depends very much on what the sindicati decide to do next. They have the laptop, so maybe they'll walk away and leave us be.”

“They may have the laptop,” Rory said, “but they won't have the files they wanted. A Trojan will destroy all of them the next time it's booted up.”

“Good move.” Jackson finished his wine in several large gulps, then held it out for Rory to refill. “But it's one that will surely piss them off.”

“Better to piss them off than give them Mark's notes.” I grimaced. “But it may not mean anything, given Baltimore has walked out of the morgue and disappeared into Brooklyn.”

Jackson raised his eyebrows. “He was infected?”

“Apparently. God knows when it happened.”

“Damn it. That means the red cloaks have
both
of the scientists who were working on the cure for that fucking virus. That can't be a good thing for the rest of us.”

“No,” I agreed. “And it's made worse by the fact that—if tonight is any indication—the sindicati are now working with the cloaks.”

“Which doesn't make sense. I mean, from what your ex said, vampires can be infected as easily as humans. Why the hell would they work with the people who cannot only give them the disease, but who now control the only two men capable of finding its cure? Wouldn't it make more sense to try to grab the research and scientists for themselves?”

“The sindicati are nothing if not opportunists,” Rory said, voice grim. “They probably see more benefit in working with the cloaks to gain a cure than working against them and risk infection and possible subjugation.”

“If that's the case,” I said, “why the farce tonight? The cloaks have the scientists, so if they are working together, they don't need the notes. And
if they simply wanted to kill us, they could have done so when they had us all tied up in that damn room.”

“The sindicati may be opportunists,” Rory said, “but they are also backstabbing bastards. If the cloaks trust them to uphold whatever deal they've made, then they're fools.”

And whatever—whoever—that gray-cowled figure was, I doubted he was a fool. 

Perhaps our next move should be trying to uncover
what
, exactly, those plans were—although that wasn't likely to be an easy task. If Sam and PIT were having trouble locating the people behind the cloaks, what the hell made me think we'd have any greater luck?

We wouldn't—except for the fact that the gray-cowled figure had revealed himself in the forest. I had a feeling
that
was something he'd not done before.

Of course, just because Sam had said they had no idea who was behind the cloaks didn't mean he'd actually been telling the truth.

“Sam did mention that the sindicati were having factional problems,” I said. “It's possible that has something to do with the vamps working with the cloaks.”

“Only if one of the factions has decided it needs help to oust the other, and that would be very rare,” Jackson noted. “They tend to just slaughter one another and then start anew with whoever is left.”

“But what would the red cloaks get out of the deal?” Rory asked. “As far as I can see, there's
nothing the sindicati can give them that they can't just take by infecting them.”

Jackson shrugged. “It could be something as simple as not having the manpower they need at the present time, thanks to the fact that the virus makes most of those infected mad.”

“It only makes them mad if they're infected by one of the rotten ones.” I tossed my chicken bone onto the platter and grabbed a bit of cheese to munch on. “Otherwise, it just wipes out free will and replaces it with a hive mentality.”

“Whatever the hell is really going on,” Jackson commented, “the fact remains that neither party is going to be happy with us after this evening's events. There
will
be reprisals. Everything else might be up for conjecture, but
that
is fact.”

“Actually, they'll be coming after you two.” Rory waved a bit of bread at the two of us. “Me, they don't know about as yet—and it might be wise to keep it that way.”

“An emergency backup,” Jackson commented. “I like it.”

My gaze met Rory's, and he smiled. We both knew it was a bit more than that—him stepping back meant life could go on for the both of us if the very worst happened. I might have been reborn more times than I could now remember, but I wasn't tired of life just yet—even if I
was
getting more than a little pissed off with our whole “love will go sour” lot in life.

“What it does mean,” Rory said, “is that you two may need to watch each other's backs.”

“And I,” Jackson said, a gleam in his eyes, “have the perfect way to do that.”

“Oh, yeah?” I said, not trusting that gleam for an instant. “And that would be what, exactly?”

“This.” He airily indicated the room around us.

I grinned. “I'm not moving in with you. As I explained, Rory and I need—”

“No, no, that's not what I meant.” He paused. “Well, I wouldn't mind if you occasionally stayed here. No sane man is ever likely to reject the possibility of great sex—and certainly no
Fae
ever did.”

“Then what did you mean?”

“I meant Hellfire Investigations.” His expression was serious, the gleam giving way to determination. “As I mentioned earlier, I've been looking for someone to work with for a while, and if the last few days have proven
anything
, it's that we work well together.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Didn't anyone tell you it's a bad idea to sleep with employees?”

“I
don't
sleep with employees. Well, I don't anymore—not after I ended up in court fighting harassment charges.” He grinned. “Partners, however, are an entirely different matter.”

“Only a Fae would think there's a difference,” Rory commented, voice dry.

“Well, there
is
. We'd be on equal standing, rather than in a superior-subordinate situation.”

I stared at him for a moment, then said, “Are you serious?”

“Totally.” He leaned forward and caught my
hand. “I've got so much work, I'm having to turn potential clients away. I really
do
need help.”

I had to admit, the thought of becoming an investigator certainly had my blood racing. As Rory had noted before this whole mess had begun, I wasn't usually one to put up with a staid life for very long. But this would be two lifetimes in a row I'd done something dangerous—and joining forces with Jackson against those who would hunt us down was certainly that—and it was supposedly Rory's turn to live on the edge this time around.

Not that he'd actually taken up the option beyond becoming a fireman.

I bit my lip and glanced at him. He smiled at my unasked question and said, “I'd feel a whole lot better if you were working here rather than off somewhere else where there's no one to watch your back.”

I returned my gaze to Jackson's. “So, full partner? Done legally, with me buying a percentage of the business?”

“Fifty-fifty, and everything legal,” he agreed. “With a cooling-off period of thirty days, just to be safe.”

I hesitated, then grinned. “You have yourself a deal. And a partner.”

Jackson grabbed the bottle of wine and refilled all our glasses.

“To Hellfire Investigations,” he said, raising his glass. “Long may we prosper.”

“To Hellfire,” I echoed, and clinked my glass against theirs.

And knew, even as I drank the wine, that it wasn't prosperity we had to worry about.

It was survival.

Don't miss the last novel in Keri Arthur's Dark Angels series,

 

DARKNESS FALLS

 

Available from Signet in December 2014

T
he Raziq were coming.

The energy of their approach was very distant, but it blasted heat and thunder across my senses and sent me reeling. But even worse was the sheer and utter depth of rage that accompanied that distant wave. I'd known they would be angry that we'd deceived them, but this . . . this was murderous.

Up until now, the Raziq had used minor demons to kidnap me whenever they'd wanted to talk to me—although
their
version of talk generally involved some kind of torture. This time, however, there would be no talking. There would be only death and destruction.

And they would take out everyone—and everything—around us in the process.

It was a horrendous prospect given we were still at the Brindle, a place that not only held aeons of witch knowledge but was also home to at least two dozen witches.

I reached for my sword. Even though we couldn't fight in this place of peace, I still felt safer with Amaya's weight in my hand. But she wasn't there. Just for an instant, panic surged; then I realized I'd left her behind, among the ruins of our home. In the aftermath of my father's destruction, I'd been desperate to see whether Mirri—who'd been under a death sentence, thanks to Father's
magic—had by some miracle survived, and I hadn't given Amaya a second thought.

“We cannot stay here.” The familiar, masculine tones broke through the fear that had been holding me captive.

My gaze met Azriel's. He wasn't only my guardian but my lover, the father of my child, and the being I was now linked to forever in both life
and
afterlife. When I died, I would become what he was—a Mijai, a reaper warrior tasked not only with protecting the gates to heaven and hell, but hunting down the demons who broke through hell's gate to cause havoc here on Earth.

Of course, reapers weren't actually flesh beings—although they could certainly attain that form whenever they wished—but rather beings made of energy who lived on the gray fields, the area that divided Earth from heaven and hell. While I
was
part werewolf and therefore flesh, I was also part Aedh. The Aedh were energy beings who at one time had lived on the fields like the reapers, and also had been the traditional guardians of the gates. My father had been one of the Raziq—a group of rebel Aedh who were responsible not only for the destruction of the Aedh but for the creation of the three keys to the gates—and he was also the reason they were currently lost.

Or rather, only one key was still lost. I'd found
the first two, but both had been stolen from under my nose by the dark sorceress who'd subsequently opened two of hell's three gates.

Things hadn't quite gone according to plan for her when she'd opened the second one, however, because she'd been captured by demons and dragged into the pits of hell. I was keeping everything crossed that that's
exactly
where she'd remain, but given the way luck had been treating us of late it was an even-money bet she wouldn't.

“Risa,” Azriel repeated when I didn't immediately answer him. “We
must
not stay here.”

“I know.”

But where the hell were we going to go that was safe from the wrath of the Raziq? There
was
nowhere safe. Maybe not even hell itself—not that I particularly wanted to go
there
.

I briefly closed my eyes and tried to control the panic surging through me. And yet that approaching wave of anger filled every recess of my mind, making thought, let alone calm, near impossible. If they got hold of me . . . My skin crawled.

It took a moment to register that my skin
was
actually crawling. Or at least part of it was. I glanced down. The wingless, serpentlike dragon tattoo on my left forearm was on the move, twisting around like a wild thing trapped. Anger gleamed in its dark eyes and its scales glowed a rich, vibrant lilac in the half-light of the room.

Of course, it wasn't an ordinary tattoo. It was a Dušan, a creature of magic that had been designed to protect me when I walked the fields. It was a
gift from my father, and one of the few decent things he'd actually done for me since this whole key saga had begun.

Unfortunately, the Dušan was of little use here on Earth. It shouldn't even have been able to move on this plane, let alone partially disengage from my skin, as it had in the past.

“What's wrong now?”

I glanced at Ilianna—my best friend, flatmate, and a powerful witch in her own right. Her warm tones were rich with concern, and not without reason. After all, she'd only
just
managed to save the life of her mate, Mirri, from my father's foul magic, and here I was again, threatening not only Mirri's life but Ilianna's, her mom's, and those of everyone else who currently stood within the walls of this place. Because not even the magic of the Brindle, as powerful as it was, would stop the Raziq. It had been designed to protect the witches from the evil of
this
world. It was never meant to be a defense against those from the gray fields.

“The Raziq hunt us.” Azriel's reply was flat. Matter-of-fact. Yet his anger reverberated through every inch of my being, as fierce as anything I could feel from the Raziq. But it wasn't just anger; it was anticipation, and
that
was possibly scarier. He drew his sword and met my gaze. If the ominous black-blue fire that flickered down the sides of Valdis—which was the name of the demon locked within the metal of his sword, and who imbued it with a life and power of its own—was anything to go by, she was as ready to fight as her master. As ready as
Amaya would have been, had she been here. “We need to leave.
Now
.”

Ilianna frowned. “Then go home—”

“We can't,” I cut in. “Home's gone.”

It had been blown to smithereens when I'd thrust Amaya's black steel into my father's flesh and had allowed her to consume him. And it was an action I didn't regret, not after everything the bastard had done.

“Yes,” Ilianna replied. “But the wards your father gave us should still be active. I placed a spell on them that prevents anything or anyone other than us from moving them.”

“Even from what basically resembled a bomb blast?”

She hesitated. “That, I can't guarantee.”

“A half guarantee is better than nothing.” Azriel's gaze met mine again. “If they
aren't
active, then we stand and fight. They still need you, no matter how furious they might currently be.”

Yes, but they didn't need
him
. And they would destroy him, if they could. Still, what other choice did we have? No matter where we went, either here or on the gray fields, others would pay the price. I hesitated. “Will the Brindle's magic react if we transport out from within its walls?”

“Normally, yes,” Kiandra—the Bridle's head witch—replied. She stood near Mirri and Zaira, Ilianna's mom, her gaze bright and all too knowing in the shadowed room. “But given the events
of the last few days, I have woven specific exceptions into our barriers.”

“Thanks.” We were going to need it. I swallowed, then stepped toward Azriel.

“Call me,” Ilianna said. “Let me know you're okay.”

I didn't reply. I couldn't. Azriel's energy had already ripped through us, swiftly transporting us across the fields. We reappeared in the blackened ruins of the home I'd once shared with Ilianna and Tao—although to call them ruins was something of a misnomer. Ruins implied there was some form of basic structure left. There was nothing here. No walls, no ceiling, not even a basement. Just a big black hole that had once held a building we'd all loved.

I stepped away from Azriel and glanced up. The faintest touch of pink was beginning to invade the black of the sky; dawn wasn't that far off. I wondered what day it was. So much had happened over the past few days that I'd lost track.

Time appeared
. The familiar, somewhat harsh tone that ran through my thoughts was heavy with displeasure.
Alone should not be
.

Sorry
. I felt vaguely absurd for even issuing an apology. I mean, when it was all said and done, Amaya was a
sword
. But somewhere in the past few days, she had become more a friend than merely a means of protection.

I picked my way through the rubble and found her half-wedged into the blackened soil. I pulled
her free, and definitely felt a whole lot safer. Though it wasn't as if Amaya or Azriel—or anyone else for that damn matter—could save me if the Raziq really
had
decided enough was enough.

“The Raziq have split,” Azriel commented.

Confusion—and a deepening sense of dread—ran through me. “Meaning what?”

The ferocity that roiled through the connection between us gave his blue eyes an icy edge. “Half of them chase us here. The rest continue toward the Brindle.”

“Oh, fuck!”

“They plan to demonstrate the cost of misdirection, and there is nothing we can do to prevent it.” His expression hardened, and I hadn't thought
that
was possible. “And before you say it, I will
not
let you endanger yourself for them.”

“And I will
not
stand here and let others pay the price for decisions I've made!”

“We have no other choice—”

“There's
always
a fucking choice, Azriel. Standing here while others die in my place is
not
one of them.”

“Making a stand at the Brindle will
not
alter the fate of the Brindle.”

“Don't you think I know that?” I thrust a hand through my hair and began to pace. There
had
to be an answer. Had to be some way to protect the Brindle and everyone within her without either Azriel or me having to make a stand. Damn it, if only Ilianna had had the time to create more
protection stones . . . The thought stuttered to a halt. “Oh, my god, the protection stones.”

Azriel frowned. “They are still active. I can feel their presence.”

“Exactly!” I swung around to face him. “You need to get them to the Brindle. It's the only chance they have against the Raziq.”

“I will not—”

“For God's sake, stop arguing and just do as I ask!”

He crossed his arms and glared at me. His expression was so fierce my insides quaked, even though I knew he would never, ever hurt me.

“My task is to protect you. No one else. You. I cannot and
will
not leave you unprotected, especially not
now
.”

Not when there is life and love yet to be explored between us. Not when you carry our child.
The words spun through my thoughts, as fierce as his expression and yet filled with such passion that my heart damn near melted. I walked back to him and touched his arm. His skin twitched, but the muscles underneath were like steel. My warrior was ready for battle.

“I know it goes against every instinct, Azriel, but I couldn't live with myself if anyone at the Brindle died because of me.”

“And I would not want to live without you. There
is
no where that is safe from the wrath of the Raziq.”

“Maybe not—” I hesitated, suddenly
remembering what he'd said about the Aedh temples and the remnants of the priests who still haunted that place. They weren't ghosts, as such—more echoes of the beings they'd once been—but they were nevertheless damn dangerous. I'd briefly encountered one of them when I'd been chasing the sorceress to hell's gate, and it had left me in no doubt that he could destroy me without a second's hesitation.

“
That
is not a true option,” Azriel said, obviously following my thoughts. “And there is certainly no guarantee that the priests will even acknowledge you again, let alone provide any sort of assistance.”

“That's a chance I'm willing to take.” And it was certainly a better option than letting the Brindle pay the cost for my deceit. “Those who haunt that place weren't aware of the Raziq's duplicity, Azriel, but I think they might be now. And you're the one who told me that if they decide you're an intruder, they can cause great harm.”

“But the Raziq were once priests—”

“
And
they're also the reason the Aedh no longer exist to guard the gates,” I cut in. “This might be the only way both of us are going to survive a confrontation with the Raziq, and we
have
to take it.”

He stared at me for several heartbeats, then swore viciously. Not in my language, in his. I blinked at the realization I'd understood it, but let it slide. Right now it didn't matter a damn how or when
that
had happened. All that did matter was surviving the next few minutes.

Because the Raziq were getting nearer. They'd breached the barrier between the fields and Earth and were closing in even as we stood here. I suspected the only reason they hadn't yet confronted us was simply that we had moved. But that wouldn't help the Brindle.

Azriel sheathed his sword, then caught my hand and tugged me toward him. “If we're going to do this, then we do it somewhere where your body is going to be safe while you're on the fields.”

“Not the Brindle—”

“No.”

The word was barely out of his mouth when his energy ripped through us again. We appeared in a room that was dark but not unoccupied. The scents in the air told me exactly where we were—Aunt Riley's. She was the very last person I wanted to endanger in
any
way. I wasn't actually blood related to Riley, but after my mom's death, she and her pack were the only family I had left.

But before I could make any objection about being here, she said, “I'm gathering there's a good reason behind your sudden appearance in our bedroom at this ungodly hour of the morning.”

Her tone was wry, and she didn't sound the slightest bit sleepy. But then, she'd not only once been a guardian, but one of their best. I guess old habits—like sleeping light—die hard.