Darkness Rising: The Dark Angel Series: Book Two (17 page)

“I will. I am.” I gave her a crooked smile. “These days, the only people I truly trust are you, Tao, and the Jenson pack.”

“Well, you can’t go wrong there.” She hesitated again, then drew a paper-wrapped package out of her pocket. “Here, I bought you this.”

She offered me the package. Undoing it revealed a small, multipurpose hunting knife—the sort of knife that could cut wire as easily as it did throats. I glanced at her sharply. “You said you don’t see specific trouble in my future, so why hand me a knife?”

She grimaced. “My foresight is being decidedly ambiguous at the moment. I just felt the need to buy this for you. I’m hoping you don’t need it, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

“I guess.” I tossed the knife lightly in my hand. It was very well balanced. “And at least it is small enough to keep hidden.”

“That’s the idea.” Then she gave me a sketchy salute and headed back down the stairs.

I considered the knife for a few seconds longer, then tucked it into my jacket pocket and tried to get back to the paperwork. Unfortunately, the figures refused to compute. After twenty minutes I gave up and rang the Langham Hotel, booking a suite for a couple of nights. I wasn’t able to go home, which gave me the perfect opportunity to indulge in a little pampering at one of my favorite five-star hotels. With that done, I headed back downstairs to help out until the end of my shift.

After grabbing something to eat from the kitchen, I caught a cab to the address Ilianna had given me. Adeline Greenfield lived in one of those beautiful old Victorian houses filled with character—the type of house all too often torn down and replaced by sterile concrete boxes. As the cab took off, I stood on the curb, admiring the graceful old elms that dominated her front lawn, and the thick carpet of moss growing across the tiled roof. There was an air of graceful age that hung over the place. And as I opened the old wrought-iron gate and walked through, it felt very welcoming.

The front garden was so lush with flowers that, even at night, they filled the air with a riot of perfume. And though it should have overwhelmed my olfactory senses, it didn’t.

I climbed the red-tiled steps and walked across to the front door. A little gold bell sat on the right edge
of the door frame, its cord swaying gently in the breeze. I rang it a couple of times, and the joyous sound leapt across the night, making me smile.

Footsteps echoed inside, then the door opened, revealing a short, gray haired woman with lined, leathery features and the brightest blue eyes I’d ever seen.

“You’d be Risa Jones?” she said, looking me up and down before her gaze went briefly past me. If her expression was anything to go by, I wasn’t what she was expecting.

“Yes, I am. I hope I’m not too late. Ilianna did say to pop over after I finished work …”

“No, no, that’s fine,” she said, unlocking the security door then stepping aside for me to enter. “It’s just that I wasn’t expecting you to come alone.”

I paused. “Why’s that?”

“Ilianna mentioned you had a reaper following you about, but that I shouldn’t worry about it.” She snorted as she snipped the door closed then led the way down the long, shadow-filled hallway. The air smelled of ginger and some other spices I couldn’t name. It was tantalizing and pleasant. “Not that I would. I’ve seen more than my fair share of them buggers, and they don’t scare me.”

She led the way into a cozy sitting room that was dominated by a log fire. Two well-padded armchairs sat in front of it and, in between them, a small coffee table on which sat a tea pot and two china cups.

“Would you like a cup?” she asked, motioning me to sit on the chair to the left.

“Thanks,” I said, even though tea wasn’t high on my must-have list. “So you can see the reapers?”

“Well, technically, no. Not like I see you, for instance. But sometimes when I’m dream walking, I cross their paths. As I said, they don’t scare me. They seem to be mostly benevolent beings.”

I supposed they generally were—even the moody ones who carried swords. I watched her pour the tea, then nodded when she mentioned the sugar. She stirred in several spoons, then offered me the cup. I took it gingerly—I was a mug girl at heart, and bone china always seemed too delicate for me. “By dream walking, do you mean astral traveling?”

She nodded. “I find it beneficial when it comes to dealing with some clients’ problems. It is human nature not to be entirely honest, but there are no lies on the astral plane.”

“So do you watch them go through their daily lives or do you walk through their dreams?”

“Mostly the latter. Dreams can be interesting—and sometimes dangerous—places.” She studied me for a moment. “But you know that. You’ve walked the astral planes yourself.”

“What you call the astral planes, I call the gray fields. But I’ve never walked through anyone’s dreams.”

“You could. You have many more of your mother’s gifts than you think.”

I did? That was certainly news. I took a sip of tea, then said, “Did Ilianna mention why I wanted to see you?”

She nodded. “Catherine Alston ordered the protection spell three years ago. She mentioned that there was some nasty business going down in the council, and she wanted to be sure she was safe at home.”

I hadn’t thought to ask Alston why she’d wanted such strong magic guarding her. “I guess she didn’t clarify what the nasty business was?”

Adeline shook her head. “Vampires of her vintage usually work on a need-to-know basis. I didn’t need to know. I just needed to make the spell work.”

“So what sort of spell was it?”

She took a sip from her cup, then said, “Full protection. It should stop anything or anyone wearing flesh who intended her harm.”

“What about Maniae?”

She peered at me. “What about them?”

“Well, they’re considered spirits—or daemones. So should your spell have stopped them?”

“No, because Maniae don’t wear flesh. They’re also deities rather than spirits—a different type of being altogether. I don’t think Alston ever imagined someone would hate her enough to raise a daemon against her, let alone the curse of the Maniae. And that makes her situation extremely tricky.”

“Why?”

“Because the Maniae can usually be summoned only by great injustice. Alston must have cocked up pretty badly for the Maniae to be after her.”

“Meaning the event three years ago is unlikely to be the cause, because the attacks have only just begun.”

“Not necessarily. It could have simply taken that long to perform the summoning correctly. It is not a well-known spell, and it is not one that is well recorded.”

“Would the Brindle have it within their archives?”

“Undoubtedly.”

“Meaning it’s the sort of spell that any witch could perform?”

“It’s the type of spell
anyone
who feels they’re the victim of a grave injustice could perform if they can find the full version. However, the only people who would get access to the spell are witches connected to the Brindle.”

“So maybe all I have to do is go to the Brindle and ask who had access to that spell recently.”

“It is worth a try, though I honestly doubt a witch would be involved in such a summoning—even if it is only to supply the text of the spell.”

“Why?”

“Because of the threefold rule. And because one person’s great injustice can be another’s minor annoyance. It is a very gray area for a witch to be involved in.”

I nodded and finished my tea, wincing a little at the almost bitter aftertaste. Give me Coke or coffee any day. Hell, even the cheapest instant was better than this.

“I don’t suppose you’ve heard any whispers about this sort of summoning being performed, have you?”

She shook her head. “No, it is not my line of work. I protect, not destroy.”

I said, “No witch destroys. That is against the laws, isn’t it?”

Something gleamed in her eyes. Amusement, perhaps. Or pity. “Ask Ilianna that question. She could answer it more fully than me.”

“Ilianna hasn’t destroyed anything or anyone.”

“I’m not saying she has.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“Ask her.”

Yeah, like that would do any good. When it came to talking about the Brindle and the brief time she’d spent there, Ilianna was decidedly mute. I pushed to my feet and held out my hand. “Thank you for your time.”

She rose and clasped my hand. “Be careful, young woman. Evil nips at your heels, and that is not a good thing when your dark angel is not by your side.”

“I can protect myself,” I said. And tried to ignore the suspicion that I’d just tempted fate.

Adeline smiled. It was a knowing yet sad smile. “Yes, you can. Except in the areas where it perhaps matters the most.”

I sighed. Why couldn’t people just come out and say what they meant?

“Because,” she said, a smile touching her thin lips, “speaking in riddles means we can never truly be wrong. It is merely a matter of interpretation.”

I grinned despite the rather shocked realization that she could read my thoughts. Was I an open book to
everyone
these days? I hoped like hell the nano-implants worked better on vampires than they seemed to on Aedh, reapers, and witches. “You know, that’s the most honest statement I think I’ve heard all day.”

“And
that
is a sad state of affairs,” she commented as she led the way back down the hall.

“I guess it is.” I shivered a little as she opened the door and the wind whisked in, colder and stronger than it had been fifteen minutes ago. “Thanks for taking the time to see me.”

She nodded and watched me leave, her gaze burning
into my spine long after I’d left her house. I shivered again, then jumped as my phone rang loudly.

Lucian’s cheery features came up instantly on the vid-screen. “Hey gorgeous,” he said. “I’m missing you already.”

I grinned. “No, I am
not
coming over to your place tonight. I’m tired. I need to sleep.”

“And here I was thinking you had the stamina of a wolf.”

“I do. It’s just been one hell of a day.”

He laughed. “Where are you at the moment?”

A yellow cab cruised down the street toward me. I waved a hand and was relieved to see it pull over. “On Chapel Street, just about to catch a cab.”

I opened the door, hopped in, and told the driver the address.

“You’re going to the Langham?” Lucian commented. “And you’re not inviting me? I am offended!”

I laughed. “Yeah, right. Maybe tomorrow night.”

“By tomorrow night I shall be mindless with need.”

“Then go to Franklin’s. You’re a member there now.”

“Ah yes, so I am.” He sighed dramatically. “I suppose I shall just have to be satisfied with slaking my desire on a dozen or so of Franklin’s most nubile offerings.”

“Such a hardship,” I said drily, then glanced up as the cabdriver swerved and swore dramatically.

“Problem?” I asked.

“Just some asshole coming out of a side street without looking,” he replied. “Nothing to—”

The rest of his words were cut off as the cab—and the two of us—were flung hard sideways. Car engines
roared, metal crumpled, and someone started screaming. The driver, I realized a little dazedly, feeling warmth trickling down the side of my face and not knowing how it had gotten there. Lucian was yelling, too, calling my name from what seemed a great distance. Then the door on the opposite side was wrenched open, and something sharp hit my neck.

And everything went black.

W
AKING WAS A SLOW AND UGLY PROCESS.
M
Y
head ached like a bitch, and every muscle in my body throbbed in sympathy. It felt like I’d been caught in some gigantic shaker and thrown about viciously.

Which I guess I had, I thought, suddenly remembering the accident.

That I was no longer in the cab was immediately obvious. The vinyl seat that had been pressed against my side had been replaced by cold concrete, and the air reeked of damp, rubbish, and excrement rather than orange freshener.

Which no doubt meant I was down in the goddamn sewer tunnels again. What the hell was it with these tunnels and bad guys? And why was I even here? Why hadn’t Azriel come riding to the rescue?

No answer came out of the darkness and no half-naked, sword-wielding fury strode forward to rescue me. Obviously, for whatever reason, I was alone. Fear rose, but I thrust it aside and tried not to think about the last time I’d been trapped in the sewers by myself.

But I’d escaped that prison on my own, and I’d damn well escape this one, too.

As my eyes adjusted to the inky blackness, the
rough-hewn dirt walls and a high arched ceiling became evident. I frowned. This
wasn’t
a sewer tunnel—although there had to be one close by given the stench in the air—and it certainly seemed a whole lot larger than the last cell I’d found myself in.

Not that it mattered what the hell this place actually was. All that
did
matter was getting the hell out of here before whoever had snatched me returned. I took a slow, steadying breath, and then reached for my Aedh form. But as the magic within me surged, a rainbow shimmer flared across the arched ceiling and pain—dark, familiar, and as sharp as a knife—speared into my flesh, right into my soul. I gasped and jackknifed into a fetal position, recognizing the magic, knowing what it could do. It was the magic the Aedh had used to stop the shift and break my connection with Azriel.