Darkness Splintered (DA 6) (16 page)

“I’m fine,” I said, flapping the dress a little to cool it down. “Just freeze the screen and enlarge her feet.”

He did so. “I don’t see anything special about the shoes, aside from the fact they’re kinda ugly.”

“What’s special about them,” I said, “is the fact I not only saw those same shoes on Genevieve Sands when we were talking to her outside the storage place earlier in the day, but in one of the boxes those shifters were moving out of Lauren Macintyre’s wardrobe.”

“Thereby confirming she is indeed our face shifter,” Azriel murmured.

“I wouldn’t call a pair of shoes a defining piece of evidence,” Stane said. “It’s not like a thousand other women couldn’t have had the same bad taste.”

“Agreed, but I just can’t buy the coincidence factor in this particular case.”

“But you’d think someone canny enough to be involved in the planning of this gate-creation and key-stealing venture would be smart enough to remember to change a pair of shoes when she was changing identity.”

“Not if the decision to impersonate Risa and blow up the storage unit was a decision made in haste after we’d confronted her outside that building,” Azriel commented.

“I still wouldn’t bank my fortune on the evidence of one pair of shoes,” Stane said.

“Perhaps she just didn’t think anyone would notice them.” After all, from what Aunt Riley had said over the years, witnesses often had trouble agreeing on what suspects looked like, let alone the smaller details of what they were wearing, like shoes.

Stane studied the image frozen onto the screen for a moment. “Suspecting this shifter is both Sands
and
Macintyre doesn’t actually leave us any closer to finding any of them.”

“No.” I stood up and began to pace. “How the hell are we going to find someone who can change their features at will?”

“Your only real hope is to chase the paper trail,” Stane said. “Both Macintyre and Sands own properties. Perhaps our best bet is to track both purchases, and see if there’s a common link. Maybe a company they both went through or something.”

I nodded. It was probably a long shot, but it was better than doing nothing. “While you’re doing that, check for a bloke named Michael Greenfield or a company called Pénombre Manufacturing. They own an empty warehouse in Maribyrnong that just happens to be sitting on another ley line. Jak” – I hesitated as tears stung my eyes again; I blinked them away and cleared my throat before continuing – “wasn’t able to find much about them.”

“Will do.”

I glanced at Azriel. “In the meantime, we should go search Genevieve Sands’s place. Maybe she hasn’t had the chance to clear it out yet.”

“Unlikely,” Azriel said, his expression grim. “She blew up the storage unit hours after we talked to her, remember. It is doubtful she’d risk remaining in Prahan, given she undoubtedly knows about Stane and his computer skills, thanks to her association with the Aedh.”

“God,” I muttered, “the bastard is dead and he’s
still
causing us problems.”

“And will no doubt continue to do so until both sorcerers are dealt with.”

Dealt with – the polite way of saying dead. Not that I was, in any way, doubting the necessity of it.

I sighed and walked back to Azriel. “You’ll let us know if you find anything useful,” I said to Stane.

He nodded. “I’ll also check if the autopsy results are ready on the body parts found in the locker. If it
was
Genevieve Sands, then at least it basically confirms the shifter theory.”

Because it wasn’t Genevieve who’d walked back into that building just before the blast, but a shifter wearing my face. And it was a wonder the police hadn’t contacted me about the events – unless, of course, Uncle Rhoan was running interference with them.

“Draw your sword,” Azriel said, as he caught my hand and tugged me toward him. Valdis was already in his free hand.

“Why?”

“Because she might have more guards waiting in this place.”

I drew Amaya. A high-pitched humming began to flow across the outer reaches of my thoughts as she happily anticipated devouring more shag-pile demons. She really
was
a bloodthirsty little person.

Not person
.
Demon. Better
.

I grinned as Azriel whisked us across the fields. He released my hand as we re-formed in the middle of a bright and airy hallway, his gaze watchful and blue fire running down Valdis’s steel sides.

The place was silent. The air held an oddly smoky, somehow electrical scent that reminded me of the smell in air just before a thunderstorm, but there was nothing to suggest there was anything or anyone else in this place but the two of us.

“There’s not.” Azriel sheathed Valdis. “Not even her resonance lingers.”

“Something does.” I held on to Amaya and swung around. “It smells like magic.”

“It is, though it does not feel recent or primed to attack.”

“Why would she set a trap in one home, and not the other?” I cautiously walked into the first room off the hallway, my footsteps echoing on the polished floorboards. The double bed had been stripped of linen, and the drawers from the bedside tables had been thrown on top of the mattress, suggesting someone had emptied them in haste. I walked across to the wardrobe and used Amaya’s tip to open the door. It too was empty.

The rest of the house provided a similar story – beds and wardrobes stripped, rooms empty of everything other than large pieces of furniture. Genevieve Sands had taken everything that might have provided us with some sort of clue as to who she really was or where she might now be found.

The sudden urge to scream rolled up my throat, and I had to bite down on my lip to stop it. I sheathed Amaya and walked through the kitchen-diner, heading for the windows that lined the rear of the house. The small garden was immaculately tended and very pretty, filled with roses and other flowering plants. There was no sign of a cuneiform stone, however. Not even a bare spot in the garden to mark where one had once stood. I sighed and rubbed my forehead wearily.

“Another dead end. Just what we needed right now.”

“
That
is not entirely true,” Azriel said.

I swung around. He was squatting in front of one of the kitchen cabinets, and held up what looked like a torn edge of paper. “It was caught at the back of this cabinet. Obviously, whoever emptied the drawers did so in haste, and did not notice it.”

I walked across. “Does it say anything useful?”

He smiled, though it failed to reach his eyes. “There is some sort of symbol resembling a stylized whirlpool and, underneath, a word that is incomplete because of the tear – Pénom.”

“That
has
to be Pénombre Manufacturing. It can’t be anything else.” Not in this instance, surely. And that meant we’d finally caught a break, even if only a small one.

“I wouldn’t think so.” Azriel pushed upright. “It also gives us our next target – that warehouse you and Jak discovered.”

I frowned. “But there’s nothing there.”

“There
will
be something there, but it is possible it can only be accessed via magical means.”

“Which doesn’t do us much fucking good, given neither of us is capable of magic.”

“No, but it is still worth checking. Magic lingers here, which suggests its use was recent. If she did not use it to set a trap, what, then, did she do?”

“I have no idea.” I flared my nostrils and drew in the electric scent again. There was an odd sense of energy and movement in its undertones and I frowned. “Maybe it was some sort of transport spell.”

“Which is why we should check that warehouse. Perhaps the only way to reach whatever secrets that place holds is via the use of such a spell.”

“Which still isn’t going to help us.”

“No, but if the scent lingers there as it does here, then perhaps we could uncover her den via more practical means.”

He held out a hand, and in a matter of seconds we were inside the empty warehouse. It was pitch black and the air still and cold. Moonlight filtered in through the grimy windows, but its cool light did little more than puddle around the area immediately underneath them. I stepped away from Azriel and drew in the scents. Magic lingered, as he’d predicted.

He drew Valdis. Flames burned down her sides, casting a bright light around us but throwing deeper shadows beyond it. “Where?”

I glanced at him. “You can’t sense it?”

“I can, but its feel is too faint to pinpoint.” He half shrugged. “In this case, the nose of a werewolf is infinitely more capable of tracking than a Mijai untrained in magic.”

“Half wolf,” I corrected, and slowly turned, trying to define from which direction the scent was the strongest.

“But full wolf where it counts.”

I raised my eyebrows and shot him a glance. “Oh yeah? And just where would that be, reaper?”

“Your senses,” he replied, voice bland but amusement dancing in his eyes. “What else would I have meant?”

“What else indeed.” Smiling, I returned my attention to the scent. It seemed to be the strongest from the area near the stairs that led up to the next floor.

I walked across, and cast around to see if I could pinpoint a particular area the scent seemed to be coming from. After a moment, I ducked under the metal steps and bent down. The concrete here was smooth and unmarked. There was absolutely nothing that would indicate anything lay underneath it.

“There wouldn’t be, given magic is used to enter and exit.” Azriel squatted beside me and rested Valdis on the concrete.

“Becoming Aedh would be pointless, because I can’t move through solid objects. What about you?”

He shook his head. “I need a point of reference to transfer anywhere here, be it a soul or an image. Up until now, I’ve basically been accessing your memories or knowledge, but you have not been into whatever lies below so I do not have the required information.”

I swore softly. “If we break in, she’s going to know we’re onto her.”

“She’s well aware of
that
already. She would not have retreated otherwise.”

“Yeah, but neither she nor the other sorcerer is aware that we know about
this
place.”

“True.” Sparks flew from Valdis’s tip, hitting the concrete with sharp little hisses. An echo of her master’s frustration, perhaps. “We have two choices – breach the concrete, or turn around and walk away.”

“We haven’t got time to walk away.” Or rather, Mirri didn’t. I drew Amaya, then added, “Go for it.”

At my words, flames flared from Valdis’s tip, then split and raced left and right, until they’d formed a two-foot-wide circle. Gray smoke began to billow, the concrete dust teasing my nose and catching in my throat, making me cough. Deeper and deeper the flames bored into the concrete, until suddenly they were through and the concrete ring dropped into a deeper darkness. The flames clung to its side, providing us shadowed glimpses of what lay below.

And what lay below were more fucking hellhounds.

Chapter 7

“You know,” I said as the hounds stared up at us, their red eyes glowing with malevolence and their thick bodies little more than shadowed outlines in the fading glow of Valdis’s flames, “I’m getting a little sick of being attacked by hell’s creatures every time we take a step forward on this damn quest.”

“It is the price we pay for tracking a dark sorceress. Stay here —”

I snorted. “Like fuck —”

“Risa,” he said, cutting me off with a fierceness that surprised me. “There is
no
need for you to place yourself in danger. Not in this case. For once let me do what I was sent here to do
without
argument.”

Let me take care of you. Please
. He didn’t say the words out loud, but they echoed through me nonetheless. I met his gaze, saw the annoyance and the caring there, and reached out, cupping his cheek lightly as I leaned forward and kissed him. “Just this once,” I murmured.

“Thank you.” His voice was dry but amusement tugged at his warm lips. “So generous of you.”

And with that, he jumped into the hole, Valdis aflame and spitting in fury. I watched, heart in my mouth, as the hellhounds attacked and he briefly disappeared under the force of their onslaught. He emerged seconds later, Valdis a blur as he hacked right and left, dispatching the hounds with quick efficiency. When the last of them was dead, he looked up, his blue eyes glowing as fiercely as the sword in his hand.

“
Now
you may come down.”

I sheathed Amaya, then gripped the edges of the hole and carefully lowered myself into the darkness. It seemed an awful long way down to the bottom, even at full arm’s length.

“I’ll catch you.” He sheathed his sword, though her brightness still provided enough light to see by.

“You’d better, or I’ll be pissed.”

“Which scares me not. It’s not like I haven’t been subjected to your ire before.”

I snorted softly, then released my grip on the edge and plummeted down. Two heartbeats later Azriel caught me, as promised.

“You,” he said, voice severe as he stood me upright, “have lost far too much weight since this quest began.”

And the opposite should be happening given I was now pregnant. “Yeah, well, tell that to the bad guys who are either interrupting my meals or making me lose my lunch.” I swung around. “Is there anything here besides a black hole and hellhound bits?”

“There are no cuneiform stones, if that is what you are looking for.”

Meaning our sorcerer and sorceress
weren’t
using it as a jumping off point to get to their ley-line intersection chamber. I swore softly. “Is there anything else here?”

“Nothing living.”

Flames flared down Valdis’s sides again, lifting the shadows and lending the rough-hewn walls a blue glow. The cavern was on the small side, though there were two tunnels leading off it. A few small tables had been hacked out of the soil and stone, but there was little on them other than clean spots in the grime – indications that things
had
sat there not so long ago.