Darkness Unmasked (DA 5) (15 page)

Attack,
Amaya screamed, her voice so strident, tears stung my eyes.
Touch you not.

Damn it, no
. I pushed to my feet, stripped off my still-smoldering sweater, and dumped it on the ground. The elemental had turned and was walking away.

I cursed and sprinted after it, looping around the left side of the creature until I was in front of it. “Damn it, Tao, listen to me—”

The creature swiped at me again. This time I was ready for it and ducked. The blow sailed over my head, but the heat of its flames was so fierce, it felt like my skin was burning. I backed away fast and kept out of fist range.

This
wasn’t
working. Tao wasn’t hearing me. Maybe he was gone. Maybe the creature was too strong . . . I briefly closed my eyes.
No
. Tao was still within that fiery form. I was sure of it. I just had to find a way to draw him back out. But how?

Last time the elemental had tried to take over, I’d physically dragged Tao into the freezer and doused him with ice—something that was impossible to do out here in the middle of nowhere.

But what if it had been as much the physical contact between us as the ice that had helped Tao get the elemental under control?

No,
Azriel said, the same time as Amaya screamed,
Will kill.

Fuck it, both of you. Stop telling me what I can’t do and start offering suggestions.

Azriel’s frustration rolled through my mind, as sharp as Amaya’s hissing.
You can use Amaya as a shield.

How?

Flames,
she said.
I eat.

That will kill him, Amaya.

No. Weaken.

Azriel?

She’s right. It’ll weaken him.
He paused.
But it will also kill him if she goes too far.

His mental tones suggested this might not be such a bad thing. Anger rolled through me, but I ignored it. I had bigger battles to fight right now.

I stopped moving, drew my sword, and held her—point first—in front of me. Lilac flames began to roll down her sides, and her hissing became filled with anticipation.

Okay, Amaya,
I said.
Do what you have to do to drain his energy.
But don’t kill him.

Kill not.
It was somewhat begrudgingly said.

Her flames leapt from her shadowed blade, then raced across to the elemental and ran up one tree-trunk leg. Her lilac fire contrasted sharply against the red and gold flames of the elemental as she ringed the creature’s rotund belly. For several seconds nothing happened; then, as Amaya began to hum softly—almost contentedly—her steel began to vibrate and the flames around the creature’s stomach suddenly seemed less incandescent.

The creature never stopped moving, however, and the closer it got, the hotter it got, until I stood in the middle of a firestorm that tore at my hair and burned my skin. Until I felt as much a creature of fire as the one who was now only feet away from Amaya’s tip. And yet, for all that it burned, the creature’s heat
didn’t
destroy me, and this close, it should have. Whatever my sword was doing, it was working.

“Tao,” I screamed, more out of fear than any real need to raise my voice above the roar of the flames that swept around me. “You
must
get control of the elemental again.”

The creature growled—an ungodly sound that came from somewhere out of its flaming middle—and swiped at me. I didn’t move—I didn’t dare, lest I break the contact Amaya had with the elemental—but the blow never struck. It stopped inches from my ear, the heat of it singeing hair but not actually touching skin. The creature roared again, and this time, it was a sound of frustration. The vibration in Amaya’s steel grew stronger, and fingers of dullness were quickly spreading from the creature’s belly to the rest of its body.

If you’re going to touch the elemental, do so now,
Azriel said, his voice barely hinting at the anger and concern I could feel within him.
If Amaya drinks too much more of the creature’s power, she will kill both the creature
and
Tao.

Amaya, don’t,
I warned.

Fun,
she grumbled.
You not.

I snorted softly, then, as the creature roared and took another swipe at me, raised my hand and caught the flaming paw. This time, my skin
did
burn, and I screamed.

Risa! Do not expect me to stand here and see you harmed—

I can,
I cut in fiercely.
And you will.

Closing my eyes, I gritted my teeth against the agony and the screams that pressed up my throat and gripped the fiery paw harder. For several seconds, nothing happened, and I began to wonder if Azriel was right. Maybe Tao
was
lost and I was burning my hand for absolutely no reason. Then, suddenly, my fingers were touching flesh rather than heat. I opened my eyes. The flames were receding—grudgingly, but retreating nevertheless—from the point where my fingers clasped Tao’s hand. His fingers twitched, then convulsed around mine, his grip fierce. It hurt like hell, but I didn’t say anything, biting my lip and blinking back tears as the flames continued to retreat, first up his arm and then across his shoulders, revealing his head and upper body.

Amaya, release him.

No; want.

Do it,
I said.
Now!

She hissed her displeasure, but her flames unfurled from Tao’s waist and dropped to the ground, slinking back to her blade with some reluctance.

As the remaining flames flickered and died, Tao opened his eyes and blinked. Then awareness surged, and horror spread across his pale, thin face.

“Oh god, Ris,” he said, voice hoarse and raw. “What have I done?”

I quickly sheathed Amaya and tried not to think about the agony radiating from my left hand—a hard thing to do given it was so bad, all I wanted to do was throw up. “Nothing that can’t be—”

I cut the rest of the sentence off as he collapsed, and I lunged forward to catch him. Azriel got there before me. He slung Tao like a sack over his shoulder, then swung around to face me.

“Your hand—”

“I can heal it when I change to Aedh form,” I said, barely resisting the urge to cradle my hand and weep like hell. “Let’s just get Tao home and worry about me later.”

Azriel didn’t look at all happy, but he merely nodded and disappeared from sight. I took a deep breath and glanced at my hand.
Bad
mistake. All I saw was a raw and swollen mess, and the pain—which had been bad enough up until that point—became overwhelming. A chill swept me, I began to shake, and my legs went from underneath me. But even as I hit the ground, my stomach rose, and I threw up.

Then Azriel was there, holding me, supporting me. The heat of his presence fanned through my body; a warmth and strength chased the weakness from my flesh and snatched the pain from my burned and blistered hand.

Eventually, I pulled away and glanced down. Though it was still red and tender, my hand was no longer blistered or weeping, and I could flex my fingers without pain. My gaze rose to Azriel’s. “Thank you for healing me.”

“I’m glad that I could.” He brushed the sweaty strands of hair from my eyes, but despite the tenderness of his touch, there was anger in his expression. “You should not have endangered yourself that way, Risa. It could have ended very differently.”

“But it didn’t.” I hesitated. “Where did you take him?”

“Home, as you wanted. I brought Ilianna in to tend to him.” He placed a hand under my elbow and gently pulled me upright. “And we should go. The police are coming.”

I glanced past him and saw the approaching red and blue lights of the emergency vehicles. “At least no one got hurt.”

“No one but you,” he commented, as he wrapped his arm around my waist and swept us from flesh to energy form. He didn’t immediately release me when we reappeared in the living room, simply continued to hold me close.

My gaze rose to his again, and there was an intensity, a ferocity, that had my heart doing an odd sort of dance. “What?” I said, almost breathlessly.

“Do not
ever
ask me to do something like that again,” he said. “Because I will not.”

Annoyance flared. I tried to step back, but his grip tightened around my waist, pressing me closer. “Damn it, Azriel. He’s my friend—”

“And I mean nothing to you?” he cut in, his voice flat and even despite the fierceness that radiated from every inch of his being.

“You know that’s—”

“What I
know
,” he cut in again, “is that the link between us has evolved into something far stronger than a mere exchange of thoughts. I will not feel your agony like that again and
not
do anything about it.”

My breath caught somewhere in my throat. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know—”

“And wouldn’t have cared if you had.” His voice was grim. “I’m just giving you warning never to ask that of me again.”

I took a deep breath and released it slowly. “Okay. But I also meant what I—”

“Oh, I am under no illusions where I stand when it come to your friends.”

The edge of bitterness in his voice stung deep inside. “That’s not fair, Azriel.”

“And yet it is nevertheless true.” He released me and stepped back. “Go tend to Tao.”

“Azriel—”

He cut me off with a short, sharp motion. “You have what you wanted, Risa.”

And with that, he disappeared, leaving me standing there feeling angry, confused, and oddly hurt.

“Risa?” Ilianna said.

I forced a smile and turned around. “How’s Tao?”

“Unconscious.” She hesitated. “Are you okay?”

“Couldn’t be better. Is Tao going to be all right?”

“I don’t know.” Her expression was concerned. “What’s going on between you and Azriel?”

“Nothing.” And everything. “Is there anything I can do to help Tao?”

“The best thing you can do is get some sleep. You look like shit.”

“Thanks.”

“Seriously, I want you to get some rest. The last thing I need is to be looking after two of you. Especially given what a grouchy and unpleasant patient you can be.”

I snorted softly. “I love you, too. Give me a yell if you need anything or he wakes, won’t you?”

“I will.”

I turned and headed for my bedroom.

“Ris?”

I paused and looked over my shoulder. “What?”

She hesitated. “Remember that Azriel isn’t human. You can’t expect him to react the way any human—or non-human, for that matter—would.”

“I don’t expect anything of him, Ilianna.”

“Maybe that’s the problem.”

I snorted. “He’s here for one reason only—the keys. He needs to secure them for his side, and he needs me to do it. No matter what I may or may not feel for him, that’s the one truth that can never be ignored.”

“But what if it’s no longer the
only
truth?”

“It’s the only truth that matters. In the end, he has his world, and I have mine, and as the saying goes, never the twain shall meet.”

“Maybe you need to trust fate a little bit more. Or maybe you just need to enjoy what you currently have and not worry about the future.”

How could I not worry about the future when the reality was I might not have one? “Fate is the one that got us into this mess, Ilianna. I’m not trusting her to get us out of it.” I waved a hand. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

With that, I went to bed and—surprisingly, given how much sleep I’d already had that day—slept.

A death march tone woke me. I groaned and rolled over onto my back, rubbing the sleep from my eyes and cursing the idiot on the phone for waking me. Then it twigged that the idiot was Hunter, and I lunged to answer it. But I hit the
VOICE ONLY
button—I had a feeling she wouldn’t appreciate learning that I was still in bed.

“I haven’t received the crime-scene report yet,” I said, glancing at the clock. It was nine in the morning—no wonder my stomach was grumbling. What little I’d eaten yesterday, I’d thrown up last night. “So I really haven’t got much more to report than what I’ve already said.”

“I have no intention of discussing either your report or the Directorate’s,” she replied, voice snappish. Definitely not in a happy mood this morning.

But then, was she ever?

“So you’re ringing me because . . . ?”

“Because another card was found in the pocket of the second victim—this one for the Blue Angels.”

Which Rhoan would have no doubt already checked out. And I couldn’t see the point in me doubling his work, especially given if he
had
found anything worthwhile, it would have been in his report. And
she
, subsequently, would now be hunting down the bitch behind the kills. All of which I wanted to say, but wisely refrained. “Is there any connection between the two clubs?”

“There is, actually. They both hired last-minute replacements from the same booking agency.”

“I gather the Directorate has talked to the agency involved?”

“Yes.” She hesitated. “And so have I.”

Poor them. “And . . . ?”

“I told the agency owner to inform me of all last-minute requests for musicians,” she snapped. “And he just did.”

Hence the reason for the call. Wonderful. I scrubbed a hand across my eyes and flicked the blankets off me. “I’m guessing you’re not sending the Directorate to check her out.”

“Rhoan hasn’t your reaper, nor your ability to sense dark spirits.”

The Directorate witches had the latter, if not the former. But again, I held the comment back. She didn’t
want
the Directorate to find this killer—she wanted me to, so that she could then get her revenge. And what Hunter wanted, Hunter usually got.

Unfortunately.

I walked into the bathroom. Having a pee while talking on the phone wasn’t something I usually did, but it was oddly appropriate when it came to Hunter—if only because I wished I could so easily flush her from my life.