Darkness Unbound (5 page)

“And yet he is apparently here in Melbourne.”

“Well, if you know that, then you know a hell of a lot more about him than
I
do.”

I didn’t even know what he looked like, other than the fact that he had violet eyes and silvery blond hair, just like me. Of course, Mom’s hair was also a silvery blond, but neither that nor the blue of her eyes was natural. As a Helki werewolf, she could subtly alter her appearance, and the silver and blue not only suited her psychic business better, but also enabled her to use her true form when she didn’t want to be noticed.

Admittedly, she
had
tried to answer my questions about my dad, but the truth was, I was the result of a one-night stand, and Mom’s entire time with him had totaled little more than six hours. Hardly long enough to form any lasting impressions.

I studied the reaper for a moment, wondering if he was telling the truth, then wondering what he’d have to gain by lying, and added, “Why do you think my father would even bother contacting me after all these years?”

“He has come to Melbourne for a reason. We believe you might be that reason.” He shrugged—a small, economical movement.

“On the other hand, he might just have come home to die.” After all, the Aedh only bred when they sensed their death was near, and while I was just over twenty-eight years old, that was merely a heartbeat in Aedh years.

“That is also possible.”

I finished the last of my Coke, then pushed the empty cup away and crossed my arms on the table—an action that brought me closer to the heat of him. It trembled across my skin in waves, warm and disturbing. But oddly, he had no scent. He might wear the flesh of a man, but he didn’t smell like one.

He didn’t smell like anything, really. Not even the rain that still beaded his skin.

“Meaning there are others like you out there searching for him?”

He hesitated, then nodded—another brief but oddly lyrical movement.

“But why? What has he done to incite such interest from the reapers?”

“It’s not what he has done, but what he
might
do.”

Frustration rolled through me, but there wasn’t much point in venting it. It wasn’t exactly wise to get annoyed at someone who could steal your life away between one heartbeat and the next. And though it was obvious he wanted to use me to get to my father, that wasn’t a comforting thought. Not when I knew so little about the reapers as a society or as individuals.

“So what is he up to that’s causing you so much consternation?”

He crossed his arms, and I had to resist the urge to let my gaze linger over the lean, muscular goodness such an action revealed.

Damn it, I either needed to get to Franklin’s—a discreet, upmarket wolf club—or break my vow to stop using Tao.
This
was getting ridiculous.

“To answer that,” he said, after considering me for entirely too long, “I really need to know just how much you know about us.”

I replied, “As much as any half-Aedh knows.”

“Which is not helpful, as I am not aware of what a half-Aedh might know.”

I swear his lips twitched as he said it—almost as if he was restraining a smile. I wondered again if reapers
were
capable of amusement, or whether it was simply a function of hormones that—for some damn indefinable reason—seemed to find him attractive.

But
that
could have been deliberate on his part. If he knew I was half Aedh, then he more than likely knew I was also half wolf, and the form he’d adopted could be an attempt to appeal to my more sensual nature. After all, the full moon was only a couple of days away, and for most werewolves this was the time of the moon heat.

But I wasn’t a normal werewolf. My Aedh DNA had apparently curtailed much of my wolf heritage, and while I had werewolf sexual sensibilities and drive, the moon had no pull on me and didn’t force a shape change during her full bloom. Hell, I couldn’t take wolf shape
anytime
, no matter how hard I tried. And I’d certainly tried more than once.

And yet, weirdly enough, I
had
inherited Mom’s Helki skill for face-shifting. I didn’t use it often, but I could, if I wanted to—and with a fair degree of effort—change basic things like hair, eyes, and facial structure. And like my mom, I could hold my altered shape for fairly long periods.

Which was handy for fancy-dress occasions, but not much else.

“Well,” I said, “
this
half-Aedh knows that reapers are soul guides. You take them to heaven or hell, depending on what their allotted fate is.”

“We do not call it heaven or hell. Those are human terms.”

“Then what do you call them?”

“The light or dark path.”

“Which is basically the same thing.”

He merely shrugged, but something in the way he studied me suggested I was an idiot for believing that.

Irritating, to say the least.

“And is that the sum of your knowledge?” he asked.

“I know there are gates between this world and the next—one for your so-called dark path, and one for the light. I know that Aedh priests used to guard them, but the priests no longer exist.” I eyed him for a moment. “Have the Mijai taken over that role?”

He hesitated. “Not really. We hunt what breaks through them, but we have no power over the gates themselves.”

“But you’re reapers,” I said. “Reapers escort the souls from this world through the gray fields to the next. How can you
not
have power over the gates?”

“As you said, the Aedh were the gatekeepers. We are merely the guides.”

“So how do the guides get the souls through the gates if they have no power to open them?”

Again his lips twitched. Part of me wished he’d smile for real. The other part was damn glad he didn’t. This man—this being—was dangerous enough.

“The gates are attuned to souls and automatically open when one approaches. But the term
gates
is really a misnomer. Each gate is more a series of energy portals, not an actual structure.”

“As you are not actual flesh?”

“I am flesh as of this moment. I am as real as you.”

“So why isn’t everyone in this place getting weirded out by the sword-carrying half-naked guy?”

“Because they do not see my true form. They see what they expect to see—whatever that might be.”

“But this isn’t your true form, is it? Reapers are energy beings, just as the Aedh are.”

“It might be more accurate to call us shifters. We are all born with both an energy and a flesh form, whether Aedh or reaper. The reapers can take on other forms, however, to suit what their assigned souls expect. The Aedh cannot.”

I nodded. The Aedh were also winged when they found flesh, which is why many people mistook them for angels. Thankfully, the wings were something we half-breeds missed out on. “As interesting as all this is, it’s not explaining why you’re so keen on tracking down my father.”

He uncrossed his arms and leaned forward, resting his forearms comfortably on the table’s edge. The sheer force of the heat and energy radiating off him had pinpricks of power crawling across my skin—a sensation that was uncomfortable but not exactly unpleasant.

And yet it scared the hell out of me. Uncle Quinn was the most powerful being I’d ever met, but I might as well compare a bonfire to the sun.

“Your father,” he said slowly, “is on a very dangerous mission.”

“Well, that certainly explains everything.” Not.

He didn’t seem to get the sarcasm, and continued in the same flat tone, “The portals, as I said, are set to open automatically for an approaching soul, but they can be temporarily opened via other means. Magic originating from this world has been the chief offender, but if enough power is gathered from the dark path, that gate can be opened by those on the other side.”

I frowned. “How? I mean, hell is hell. You know, a place filled with suffering, pain, and all that. How would they even have time to gather such power?”

“As I’ve already said,
hell
is a human term and not truly accurate. The dark path is more a place where the sins of a soul’s lifetime must be atoned for before he or she can move on, and that does not always involve suffering.”

But sometimes did, obviously. “So all the souls who walk the dark path are redeemable?”

“Yes.” He hesitated. “Those who are not are killed. That is another reason for the existence of the Mijai.”

A chill crawled down my spine. It was a stark reminder that I was sitting in front of a man who could end not only
this
life, but every one of my lives, for all eternity. I rubbed my arms and said, “Once the souls are redeemed, are they reborn?” When he nodded, I added, “How?”

“There is only one way in and out of the dark path, and that is back through the portals.”

“Meaning the gates are two-way?”

“Yes. Once souls are allowed back through the portal, we escort them across the fields to the light path.”

“Are they instantly reborn there?”

“Sometimes. Sometimes not.” He shrugged. “It depends on demand and how many souls are already waiting.”

So what did the souls do if they weren’t reborn instantly? Float around playing harps? The thought made me smile, even though I recognized the foolishness of it. “So how does this relate to my father?”

“Your father is a former priest. As such, he has some power over the gates and their locks.”

My frown deepened. “I’m still not seeing the problem here.”

“Your father,” he said, slowly and somewhat heavily, “is thought to be working on a device to permanently close the gates to all things that come through.”

Confusion swirled through me. “But that would be a good thing, wouldn’t it? It would save you the hassle of hunting down the bad things that break through, at the very least.”

He was giving me that look again—the one that suggested I was an idiot.

“The problem with shutting the gates permanently is the fact that it would not only stop things from breaking through, but also prevent things from
leaving.
” He paused, his oddly colored eyes searching mine and leaving a strange sensation of dread stirring in the pit of my stomach. “Which means no soul could move on. And
that
would be a disaster that could destroy us all.”

I
STARED AT HIM FOR SEVERAL MINUTES, THE
implications running through my mind.

The dead permanently caught in this world? A flood of ghosts who were both angry and confused, never able to move on and not understanding why?
That
would certainly be hell on earth for those of us able to see and feel them.

But a disaster that could destroy us all? Wasn’t that overstating it a little?

“Your expression suggests you don’t understand the true danger,” he said. “But think on it. If souls cannot move on, they cannot be reborn into new flesh. Where would that leave the human—and nonhuman—races?”

“Up shit creek without a paddle, if your expression is anything to go by,” I said. “But by saying that, you’re suggesting no new souls are ever created. And yet the population of the world continues to grow, so that can’t be true.”

He nodded gravely and entwined his fingers, oddly reminding me of a professor I’d had—both as a teacher and as a lover—in college. They’d both had the same sort of grave, all-knowing air.

Although it has to be said that the professor had
never
been as hot as this reaper, in clothes or out.

“New lives—and new souls—are created daily, true, but that doesn’t change the fact that the majority of these new beings contain old souls.”

“Is there a finite number of new souls?” I asked curiously. “And is there a limit to the number of people the earth can carry? I can’t imagine it’s the master plan of whoever is in charge to keep adding souls until our world collapses under the weight of us all.”

He smiled. Once again it was merely a quirk of the lips, but my pulse nevertheless tripped happily at the sight.

“There are always limits,” he said, his deep voice low, creating nearly as much havoc as his almost-smile. “That is why there have been—and always will be—natural disasters. Once a limit has been reached, the clock is reset.”

It was a hard statement to believe and yet, if you were inclined to believe in a higher power looking over us all, then it wasn’t such a big leap.

“I still can’t see how the gates shutting would be such a disaster. I mean, people would still be born.”

“Yes, but if no souls could move on and be reborn, then the majority of the newborns would be little more than mindless flesh.”

I stared at him for a moment, for the first time actually taking in the implication of his words. And I sure as hell didn’t want to believe them. Surely if there
was
someone in charge upstairs, they wouldn’t be that cruel. “Zombies?” I said incredulously. “You’re saying they’d be
zombies
?”

He hesitated. “No. Zombies are flesh brought back to life by the deadly desires of others. A body born without a soul is little more than a slab of meat. It is incapable of thought, emotion, or feeling. It has no needs or desires. It hasn’t even got the will to live.”

Vegetables, not zombies
, something within whispered. I shuddered, and tried not to imagine the hundreds of babies lying in ICUs all over the world, their tiny bodies being kept alive by machines but never becoming capable of knowing love or life.

It made me want to throw up.

But bad situation or not, it really didn’t make his following me any easier to swallow.

“Look, I hope like hell you track down my father and stop him, but I really think you’re tackling it from the wrong angle. He’s
never
had anything to do with me, so why on earth would he want to do so now, when he’s about to embark on a course of action that could endanger all that I hold dear?”

He shrugged again, but I had a suspicion that the nonchalance was faked and he wasn’t telling me all he knew. And that his reasons for following me were far more complicated than what he was saying. Though I wasn’t entirely sure why I felt this. It wasn’t as if his countenance or body language had changed in any way.

“As I said earlier, him contacting you is only a possibility, but one we must explore.”

“So, you’ve explored it, and I’ve denied it. What happens next?”

He raised an eyebrow—another ever-so-elegant gesture. “Nothing. I will continue to watch you until we are sure there is no likelihood of him contacting you.”

“I’m not really keen on the idea of a reaper shadowing me day and night.”

Especially if he remained in
this
form. I might not have a werewolf’s troublesome, moon-controlled hormones, but I was still female, and a good-looking male could affect me as easily as the next woman. Even if that good-looking male wasn’t exactly flesh and blood.

“It is not by desire that I do this, trust me.”

The edge in his voice had curiosity stirring again. “Then don’t. It’s not like I’m going to tell anyone.”

“
That
is not the point or the problem. The duty has been assigned to me, and I must comply.”

“Why?”

He looked at me like I was being a simpleton. “Because it is my duty.”

“And duty is everything?”

“Without it, chaos reigns. Which is why we must stop your father. He threatens the true order of things.”

Whose true order?
I wanted to ask, but kept the question to myself. I very much suspected that it wasn’t one he’d be willing to address.

Besides, did I really want to know the answer to a question like that?

“But what about the little girl? If you’re following me about, how can you also track down whoever stole her soul?”

“You must sleep. I will use that time to hunt. And others will hunt when I’m unable to.”

“And if you find the thing responsible?”

“I will kill it, of course.”

“So sending it back through the gates is not an option?”

“For the Mijai, no. As I said, we are not gatekeepers. Whatever is doing this either broke through or was brought through the portals to get here. Besides, if it was powerful enough to break through one time, what makes you think it will not do so again?”

“The fact that you lot will be waiting?”

He didn’t immediately answer, studying me for several seconds before asking, “Why would you worry about the fate of whatever stole that child’s soul?”

“I’m not. You can chop it into little bits and serve it to the nearest rat for all I care. I just wasn’t sure if that was your intention or not.”

“As I said, the Mijai are not soul guides. We are hunters. Killers.”

And I had one intending to follow me everywhere. Joy.

“So how are you going to stop this thing from killing again?”

He shrugged. “We may not. There were few clues left in the young girl’s room and no trace to follow.”

“Trace?”

He hesitated. “Dark energy has a certain resonance. Often it leaves a trace—a scent, if you will—that we can use to track the perpetrators down. But whatever is behind this theft left no such trace.”

Fay Kingston’s comments echoed briefly through my mind and I said, “There may not be any trace you can follow now, but the thing
did
have a presence. The mother mentioned it.”

His gaze seemed to sharpen. “What did she say?”

“She felt something cold and evil in the room that made her skin crawl.” I hesitated. “She said that reading from the Bible made it flee, but personally I doubt that. The thing remained long enough to steal Hanna’s soul.”

Something akin to disappointment crossed his features, though the expression was so fleeting I might well have been imagining it. “The Bible would only affect those beings who were religious during their time here, and her description gives us no real clue to follow. Could you not question her further?”

I shook my head. “I didn’t tell her Hanna’s soul had been stolen. I told her she’d moved on peacefully.”

That seemed to surprise him, though again, his expression didn’t change. It was something I felt rather than saw. “Why would you lie?”

“Because the truth would only cause her more pain. Losing a child is enough to cope with.”

“But it is the truth. That is always the correct choice, whether painful or not.”

I smiled at the simplicity of such a statement. “It would be nice if things were that straightforward, but in this world, they rarely are.”

“Hence the need for the dark path.”

“So all of us liars go to hell?”

Again the ghost of a smile touched his lips. “To repeat your own words, it would be nice if things were that straightforward.”

“It’s just as well that they’re not. Otherwise, hell would be one crowded place.”

“The way this world of yours works, it certainly would.” He pushed back his chair and rose, drawing my gaze up his long, magnificent length. “If by chance you are contacted by your father when I’m not on watch, will you contact me?”

“And how am I supposed to do that? I’m presuming reapers don’t carry cell phones around.”

“That would hardly be practical when we are not often of this world or flesh.”

A smile touched my lips. Again he didn’t seem to get the sarcasm, but I guess a being that was more energy than flesh—and who spent most of his time walking the twilight realm—didn’t have much call or experience with emotion of
any
kind.

“Then how am I supposed to contact you?”

“Simply call my name. I have been tuned to your Chi, and will hear your summons.”

So not only did I have a reaper following me about, but he’d been tuned to my Chi. Or life energy, as Ilianna preferred to call it. This day was going from bad to worse.

“And your name is …?”

“Azriel.”

I snorted softly. “Even
I
know that Azriel is the generic name all reapers go by.”

“It may be generic, but when you say it, you will be summoning me.”

“Because you’ve been tuned to me?”

“Yes.”

Great.
Not
. “Do you have another name?”

He hesitated. “Yes, but that is private. No guide or Mijai will ever tell you his true name.”

“Why?”

“Because names are things of power, and to give one freely would be placing yourself in another’s control.”

“So why even give yourselves a true name?”

“Having a family in which all are called Azriel would get a little confusing.”

Meaning reapers had family units? Interesting, given that the Aedh
didn’t
. “So where are you off to now, Azriel, if you’ve been assigned to follow me?”

“I will retreat to a viewing distance. It would be better for us both.”

It would be better for us both if he wasn’t following me at
all
, but that didn’t seem to be an option right now. “So you’re just going to sit back and watch? You’re not going to do anything else?”

“I am not here to interfere with your life or anything that happens to you,” he said softly. “I merely wait to see if your father will contact you.”

For how long?
I wondered, but didn’t bother voicing the question simply because I doubted he would answer. “I’ll talk to you later, then.”

“Or not,” he said, and disappeared.

No one in the restaurant seemed to notice or care. He may have been visible to everyone, but there was obviously some sort of magic at work, because it was simply impossible for anyone to disappear in the middle of a crowded room like that and
not
have anyone notice.

I rose and headed out of the restaurant. It was still raining, so I flicked the collar of my jacket up and ran for the underground parking garage. After finding the ticket machine and paying, I headed for the stairs and walked down to sublevel two, my footsteps echoing sharply in the silence.

I’d parked my bike in the slots near the elevators, which were on the opposite side of the garage from the stairs. I waited for a car to cruise past, then stepped out, but as I walked through the half shadows, the awareness that I was not alone hit. Which, given this was a multistory underground parking lot, wasn’t exactly surprising. But the sense of wrongness that came with the realization
was
.

I glanced around. Cars were parked in silent rows and there was no one in immediate sight, walking either toward or away from them. The air was thick with the scents of dirt, oil, and exhaust fumes—aromas that seemed to be leaching from the concrete itself. There was nothing that suggested anything or anyone was near.

Yet someone
was
. The sensation of wrongness was getting stronger, crawling like flies across the back of my neck.

I’d lived with clairvoyance, warnings, and portents all my life. I wasn’t about to start ignoring them now.

I slowed my steps a little and flared my nostrils, drawing in more of the air and sorting through the flavors.

And I found him.

Or rather,
them
—because there wasn’t just one person nearby, but four. One ahead, one to the left, one to the right, and one attempting to sneak up behind me. Effectively, they had me boxed in, and you didn’t do that unless you wanted to ensure your prey couldn’t escape.

I flexed my fingers and wondered how I should play it. I could fight—years of sparring with Riley and Quinn had seen to that—but they’d also impressed upon me the need
not
to fight unless it was absolutely necessary.