“You have a deal.”
He nodded, then glanced at Jak. It took me several moments to realize that awareness had slipped from Jak’s eyes.
I raised an eyebrow. “There was no need—”
“There was. You trust him too much.”
Yet another comment people kept making. “Jak’s under threat from Rhoan. Trust me, he’s not going to print anything without clearing it first through him.”
“And now he can’t even consider writing about it because he won’t even be aware of it.” He knelt beside the Razan and appeared to be doing nothing more than simply looking at him—although I knew from past experience that he was riffling through the man’s thoughts. Then his gaze met mine again. “An Aedh has been active in this man’s thoughts.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning that while he knows the name and location of his master, any effort on my part to access it would immediately notify said master of the intrusion.”
“Well, damn.”
“Yes.” He paused. “It is possible to circumvent such blocks, but it takes time.”
“Which we don’t have. I suspect that if he doesn’t report back soon, it’ll make our quarry suspicious.”
“Which might just draw him out.”
“He’s not that type. He’s more likely to cover his tracks and start somewhere fresh.”
Although the ley intersection was near here, so he wasn’t likely to go too far from it. Still, we needed to avoid warning him just how close we were. “You can’t get anything useful from him at all?”
Quinn hesitated, and glanced down at the Razan again. “There’s three of them left. They live together in an old warehouse in Dawson Street, Brunswick West, and he’s more than a little pissed about running these sorts of errands when he was trained as a soldier. He believes he could take care of any intruders and be a hell of a lot less conspicuous about it than hellhounds.”
But hellhounds didn’t need to eat or drink or go to the toilet—they were on watch twenty-four/seven, until ordered otherwise.
“Where did he serve?” Although he didn’t look that old, Razan were linked to the life force of their masters and could live for centuries. Knowing which war might be handy to track down his real identity, because I very much doubted that the license and cards he carried were actually his.
Quinn hesitated. “He’s a Middle East army veteran. Retired about eighty-five years ago.”
Not very old in Razan terms at all. “And his name?”
“Mark Jackson. I can’t tell you at what point he became Razan, because that memory lies behind the shield.”
Damn. I squatted down beside the Razan, rolled him onto his side, and pointed to the barbwire tat. “Have you seen one like this before?”
Quinn shook his head. “But it is not usual for Raziq to mark their Razan with their own unique brand.”
“This particular brand has been seen on Razan who we are fairly certain belong to different masters.”
He half shrugged. “That is not unusual, either. There were Razan who served the Aedh priests at the gate temples who belonged to all. Maybe this tat signifies a joint venture of some kind.”
Which again lent weight to the idea that my father and this dark sorcerer were in cahoots, but I just didn’t think that was the case. Not now, at least.
Although it wasn’t like I could be sure of anything when it came to my parent.
“What about the pillars?”
Quinn raised his eyebrows. “What about them?”
“Well, can you ferret out any information about them—where they go, how they operate, that sort of stuff?”
“I can tell you most of that.”
No surprise there, given his reaction—or lack of it—when he’d first seen them. “So you have seen pillars like this before?”
“Not exactly like these, no. But the writing on them is a variation of old cuneiform, and they were once used to summon Aedh.”
I blinked. “Really? Why?”
“To bless crops or hunts, to garner favors, and in some cases, to offer one of their own to gain the blessing of the gods.”
“But Aedh aren’t gods.” I could understand them being mistaken for angels, but gods?
“We know that, but the prehistoric world was a much simpler place.”
I guess. “But these pillars aren’t summoning devices. They appear to be some mode of transport.”
He nodded. “They are.”
“Can we use them?”
He half smiled. “No, we cannot.” He picked up the Razan’s wrist and pushed up his sleeves. On the inside of his arm was a small tat that was a mix of cuneiform and scrollwork. “The magic within this allows the wearer to pass through such gates. But even if we could pass through them, I wouldn’t let you.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re still bleeding.” He cupped a hand under my elbow and carefully helped me to my feet. “If you bleed to death before Riley can give you a piece of her mind, there’ll be hell to pay.”
I snorted softly. Right now, him being chewed out by my aunt was the least of my worries. “What about Jak? And our captive?”
“I will give both appropriate memories. You start back through the tunnel.”
I hesitated, then did as he bid. It wasn’t very long before I heard them behind me, Jak cursing like a trooper as he once again scraped his way through the tunnel. Quinn had left rope dangling into the pit earlier, so even with my various aches and pains, it was fairly easy to climb out.
I’d barely crawled through the gap in the roller door when Azriel took my hands in his and gently pulled me upright.
He didn’t immediately say anything, just kept hold of my hands as his gaze swept me. His expression gave little away, but his anger and concern raged through my inner being, the sheer force of it rocking me back on my heels. Maybe Quinn hadn’t been overstating when he’d said Azriel had been frantic. And while that thought warmed me, the snarky voice deep within couldn’t help but note that if anything happened to me, his mission would fail. And in the end, his mission was everything.
“You cannot keep going like this,” he said eventually. “It will be the death of you.”
“Yeah, well, tell that to the bad guys who keep attacking us.” I pulled my hands from his, even though all I really wanted to do was step fully into his embrace and let the heat and warm strength of him melt into my bones and make me feel safe.
And I didn’t care if that feeling of safety was as temporary as the man himself.
“Ris—” He stopped.
I shifted briefly into Aedh form to stop the bleeding, then crossed my arms and regarded him steadily. “I’m glad you didn’t bother denying the temporary situation, Azriel, because really, how can you ever be anything else? Especially when you don’t want anything else?”
“You have no idea what I do and don’t want.” It was vehemently said.
“No,” I agreed. “But to be honest, I don’t really think you do, either.”
I resolutely turned away, suddenly too tired to get into a fight with him again. It didn’t help. Awareness of him whispered through me: the flex of his fingers, the slow release of breath, the close shimmer of heat as he reached for—but didn’t quite touch—me.
I know what I want, Risa. His thoughts ran through my mind like whiskey on a cold night—warm, and yet with an edge that bit. And for both our sakes, you had better hope I never decide to take it.
That sounds like a threat, reaper.
It is nothing more than honesty.
And as usual, you being honest doesn’t actually tell me a whole lot, does it? I shook my head slightly. One of these days, Azriel, you might just regret your reticence.
I do every day I’m in your presence. His words stabbed deep, but he continued relentlessly. But it cannot alter my actions. It will not.
No, because what he truly wanted was to become a soul guide again. And nothing, not this quest, and certainly not whatever this thing between us was, would divert him from his path. He’d never made any secret of it, either, but it was beginning to rankle me more and more.
Because I cared, more and more.
I was, I decided, an idiot.
I crossed my arms and watched Quinn and Jak crawl through the gap. Quinn kept within the shadows of the building, even though the midday sun had passed. Habit more than necessity, I thought.
“Shall I meet you back at your place?”
“Yes,” Quinn said.
“No,” said Jak.
I glanced at him, surprised. He waved the notepad in his hand. “I took note of the numbers in that man’s phone book, and I want to chase them down just in case our sorcerer starts covering his tracks again.”
“Good idea.” It also saved me the hassle of having to explain to Riley his reemergence in my life. “You’ll call if you find anything?”
Jak snorted softly. “Like I have any other choice, given your uncle’s threat.”
I half smiled, and he gave me a sketchy farewell wave and headed back to his car. Once he was gone, I met Quinn’s gaze. “What does he remember?”
“Nothing more than my arrival, and me rearranging the Razan’s memories.”
At least he hadn’t rearranged all Jak’s memories.
“I wouldn’t,” he said mildly; then, as shock shivered through me, he smiled. “The micro-cells do provide some measure of protection against most vampires—even the ones as strong as Madeline Hunter—but they create little more than a mild barrier for someone as telepathically strong as me.”
“And Riley?” I asked, even though the answer was obvious. She was stronger than even him, after all.
His smile widened. Oh, fabulous, I thought, and pointlessly tried to remember everything I’d thought since his arrival. Undoubtedly he’d caught more than a few interesting ones—though generally, both Quinn and Riley had strict rules regarding mind reading, and rarely indulged in casual telepathy. According to Riley, the thoughts of most people weren’t worth it.