The simple fact was, no one but me could find the keys. No me, no key, no threat.
I had every right to be angry. And I was. Very much so. But Ilianna was right. I owed him the chance to explain his reasons. He had tried – in his own stoic, say-as-little-as-possible way – but I’d been too locked in misery to listen. I’d wallowed in that particular pool long enough, though, and I was ready to listen now. Besides, I’d faced up to Jak’s betrayal, and had given him a second chance, even if it extended only as far as friendship. Did Azriel deserve anything less?
“What sort of trouble?” Jak asked.
“The kind that comes from a seriously annoyed dark sorceress.”
“Oh, delightful.”
He gave the bedroom doors a somewhat dubious look. He wouldn’t have seen anything more than I did – an innocuous, unpainted double entrance into another room. But the more I looked at those doors, the more the sensation of danger crawled through me.
“You know,” he added, “common wisdom would suggest walking away from trouble rather than into it.”
I half snorted and glanced up at him. “Seriously? You’re actually suggesting we turn around and walk away?”
“You know me better than that.” His grin flashed. “I was merely pointing out what the wise would do.”
“I don’t suppose suggesting you at least wait here would do any good?”
“No. Besides, you’re armed and I daresay your reaper is near.”
“I daresay a reaper is near,” I commented, voice a little harsher than necessary. “Whether they’ll come to our assistance should we land in trouble is anyone’s guess.”
I forced my feet forward. Jak fell in step beside me. “I take it from that there’s been a lover’s quarrel?”
“It means exactly what it says. A reaper is near, just not Azriel. More than that you need not know.”
“Which, of course, just fuels the fire,” he murmured. “This case gets more interesting by the day.”
“And more dangerous.” I slowed as I neared the double doors, scanning them quickly and still seeing nothing. Yet that niggling sense of wrongness was growing.
Amaya? Can you feel anything? I twitched my fingers but resisted the urge to reach for her. Not every problem could be solved by her presence, however much she might believe otherwise.
Not, she replied, and sounded a little miffed. I wasn’t entirely sure whether it was over my thought that she couldn’t solve every problem, or the fact that there didn’t seem to be a problem.
“So what lies beyond the doors you’re giving the evil eye to?” Jak asked.
“A bedroom.”
He frowned – something I sensed rather than saw. “I thought you were looking for clues?”
“I am, but I’m not likely to find them where the builders could inadvertently stumble upon them.”
“And the builders couldn’t stumble into the bedroom?” Jak asked, a slight edge in his voice. Whether it was sarcasm or concern, I wasn’t really sure.
“Well, yes. But it would suit Lucian’s twisted sense of humor to hide stuff in a half-finished bedroom.”
“So are we going to enter, or are we just going to stand here and stare at the door?”
“I prefer the latter option myself,” I muttered. “But I guess we should do the first.”
I gripped the handles and slid the doors back into their respective recesses. The large room beyond was more finished than it had been the last time I’d been here. The king-sized bed still dominated the middle of the room, but the three bathroom walls had been plastered and the fourth side was now a half-height glass-and-brick wall that would have provided some modesty to those sitting on the toilet but little else.
My gaze swept the rest of the room, but I couldn’t see anything out of place. Couldn’t see anything that suggested there was, in any way, something dangerous lurking in wait for us.
And yet that’s exactly what I sensed.
It would be sensible to retreat. Totally. But retreating wouldn’t get the damn keys found. Wouldn’t save Mirri’s life.
I swallowed heavily and forced myself forward. Felt a featherlight press against one shin, then a snap. Quickly looked down and saw the glimmer of pale thread.
I froze, waiting for the hammer to fall.
“What?” Jak’s voice was little more than a whisper.
“Someone placed a cotton line across the door. I just broke it.” I scanned the room again. Still nothing, and yet the sense of danger was growing.
Energy whisked across my skin. It was the barest caress, little more than a hint of darkness, but it nevertheless made my skin crawl. Amaya’s hiss began to flow through the back of my thoughts.
“Why would someone do that?” Jak asked. “I mean, anyone could spring it.”
I didn’t get the chance to reply, because at that precise moment all hell broke loose.
Chapter 3
The air exploded, filling the room with a tidal wave that was both heat and magic. As it stormed toward us, I swore and spun, wrapping my arms around Jak and calling to the Aedh.
“What the fuck —”
The rest of his words were abruptly cut off as my magic ripped through us both, shredding skin and blood and bone with quick efficiency, until there was nothing left but two streams of tremulous smoke, separate but entwined.
Then the wave of energy and magic hit, and the doors, walls, and ceiling all around us disintegrated. I very much suspected the wave would have done the same to us had we been in flesh form.
The wave rolled into the kitchen–dining area, its progress trackable through the pulverization of everything it touched. Not just walls and ceilings, but the half-built kitchen as well as the old remnant. But the force behind the wave obviously began to fade as it neared the far wall, because while some of the plaster fell, most remained intact.
I turned, peering through the dusty gloom, wondering if that explosion was all there was to the trap. Wondering if it had been aimed at me, specifically, or just anyone who entered this room. That brief caress of darkness before the explosion certainly seemed to suggest the former rather than the latter, but if that was the case, why not create an explosion that would do damage to an Aedh? Whoever had set this trap – be it the dark sorcerer or Lauren – had to know what I was.
But then, why would they want me dead? The final key still had to be found, and I was the only one who could do that.
Maybe this trap had been set more out of spite and emotion than levelheaded thinking, and that suggested Lauren more than the dark sorcerer. If the argument I’d interrupted between Lucian and her had been any indication, Lauren hadn’t been happy about my presence in his life. And she certainly had to suspect my part in his death.
Maybe destroying any possible evidence had been the main intent of the blast. Damage to me, if I hadn’t been quick enough, might have just been a bonus.
Which made me wonder if the reaper who’d replaced Azriel would have stepped in to save me had my life truly been in danger.
Or wouldn’t it have mattered to him? Or to any of them?
I mean, I was now destined to become Mijai the next time I died, and Mijai could become flesh. Maybe it would be better for them if I did die.
But with Azriel gone, there was no way to get any answers to questions like that…
Except, he doesn’t have to remain gone…
The thought rose like a ghost, seductive and enticing. I pushed it away. If I was going to invite him back into my life, then I’d do it the fair way – when I was safe rather than in trouble.
I studied the mess now that the white dust had started to settle. What it revealed was the broken remnants of the bed and bathroom. Wiring hung like limp snakes from the remains of the ceiling, and the lines of silver ducts that crossed the room had been torn open in several places.
I couldn’t see anything that suggested there was another trap waiting, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t. There was only one way I could ever be sure, however.
I carefully imagined Jak and me as two separate beings, and reached for the Aedh. The magic stitched us back together, until flesh was fully formed and we became ourselves once again.
There was nothing at all elegant about my reappearance this time. I landed with a splat on the dust-covered concrete, shivering and coughing and generally feeling like shit. Back to the old days, I thought bleakly. But I twisted around, ignoring the red-hot pokers that jabbed into my brain as I looked for Jak.
He was lying within arm’s reach, his clothes shredded but his flesh whole. And he was breathing.
Relief spun through me, but I didn’t entirely relax. I reached out and poked him with a stiffened finger. “Jak? You okay?”
“No, I’m fucking not.” His voice was raw and somewhat shaky. “You just tore my whole body down to atoms and then re-formed it. To say I feel like shit is something of an understatement.”
“Welcome to my usual state of being,” I muttered, my gaze sweeping the room again. Given the mess and destruction, it was likely that if there had been clues here, they would have been destroyed. But I still had to look.
At least I would when I no longer felt like throwing up.
“Why the hell would you put yourself through something like that?” Jak raised a hand and scrubbed his forehead rather gingerly. “I mean, it hurts.”
“Better that than being dead.” I carefully pushed up into a sitting position, but no amount of care could stop my stomach from leaping into my throat. I swallowed heavily and added, “And that was our only other option. Just look at the walls.”
He cracked open an eye, and swore fluently. “To repeat an earlier question, why the hell would someone do that? It could have been anyone walking through that door.”
“Which is why the magic checked us out first.”
He glanced at me. “It did?”
“Yeah.” My stomach was beginning to settle again, although the madmen in my head didn’t seem too inclined to follow suit. I nevertheless stood upright, and held out a hand. “Need some help getting up?”