Darkness Falls (DA 7) (20 page)

“That’s brilliant! Thank you.”

Kiandra nodded. “Her name is Maggie Stiller, and she runs Found Treasures, a small lost-and-found business in the city. You can visit her anytime you desire during normal business hours.”

“I have to say, that’s a
perfect
occupation for someone with a finding skill.”

“Yes,” Kiandra said, with a smile. “She does make a very decent living out of it, too. However, there is no guarantee she will be able to help you with the cuff link’s owner. Given we are dealing with a dark sorceress, she
more than likely would be aware of such an eventuality and have measures in place to take care of it.”

I frowned. “And is Maggie aware of this?”

“Yes. I would not ask this task of anyone without providing full disclosure of who and what might be involved.”

Fair enough. “I’ll head down there now. We seem to be at something of a standstill at the moment.”

“That,” Kiandra said, her expression grim, “will not last.”

A chill ran through me. I knew well enough that sooner or later we’d be up to our necks in deadlines
and
trouble, but hearing Kiandra say it—or rather, hearing the heaviness and perhaps even the touch of fear in her voice—was as scary as all hell breaking loose.

“The next nineteen hours will make or break your cause, and our world,” she continued softly. “Be wary, both of you, or all will be lost.”

I nodded. I couldn’t do anything else right at that moment—fear and panic and an almost overwhelming sense of doom had my throat locked so tight, words just couldn’t get through.

“And while I think about it,” she added, “Rozelle mentioned that you’d found a second barrier in the basement of that warehouse that she didn’t have the skill to counter.”

Rozelle was one the Brindle’s trainee witches, and the woman who’d helped weave an exception into the magic protecting that warehouse so that Azriel could enter it without harm. “We did, but it’s undoubtedly dangerous—”

“Which only means,” she cut in, “that it is also undoubtedly vital. No sorceress would waste energy creating such a strong barrier if there was nothing worthy of protection within. I have assigned a team to it.”

“Did Rozelle also tell you that our sorceress is a multishifter who can take on any form she desires? She
could approach them as me, or even you, and they’d never know until it was too late.”

Kiandra smiled, and it was a dangerous thing to behold. “Trust me, she would not want to try. She is not the only one with a trick or two up her sleeve.”

And
that
, I thought with a shiver, was the reason why Kiandra was the head of the Brindle.

“I just don’t want anyone else in the line of fire because of me—”

“It is not because of you, but rather this quest. You fail, and it will not go well for the rest of us.”

I swallowed heavily. Nothing like having your fears so boldly out in the open. “Then I guess I’d better not fail.”

“
That
sounds like a rather good plan.” She smiled a good-bye—though it did little to break the concern in her eyes—and hung up. I stared at the black screen for several seconds before slowly shoving it back in my pocket.

“Well,” I said eventually. “That sucks.”

“Yes,” Azriel commented. “But it might well be worth uncovering what lies behind that wall.”

“I know.” I waved a hand. “I was referring to her confirmation of our time-frame limitations.”

He shrugged. “Think of the shorter time frame as a benefit rather than a curse. At least it means we can move on with a life together once we survive it.”

“Yeah, but it’s the whole ‘surviving it’ bit that has me worried.” I eyed him for a moment. “It’s not like you’ve been overly effusive about the possibility, now, is it?”

“That’s because, as you say in this world, I refuse to count my chickens before they hatch.”

“Or because you’re more intimate with fate’s plans than what you’re saying, and even you’re not sure we’ll both survive.”

“There is also that possibility,” he agreed. “But you can be certain that I will not only do all in my power to
ensure you survive, but that I am here to enjoy the oncoming years beside you.”

Yeah, but would the fates come to the party as well? That was the question that worried the hell out of me. Especially given that Azriel wasn’t giving any ironclad guarantees.

“Because no life, either here or on the fields, ever comes with an ironclad guarantee,” he said softly, “simply because life is a series of intersections and alternate pathways. What path you take not only depends on
your
actions and decisions, but also on every action and decision of all those who come into your life—however peripherally.”

“Meaning our future lies in the hands of a mad sorceress set on unleashing hell on earth, and the bloodsucking disciple of a god getting orgasmic at the thought of ultimate power?” I muttered. “Fabulous
not
, as Amaya would say.”

Just kill,
Amaya commented.
Fix problem.

I couldn’t help laughing, even as I wished the answer was that simple. I Googled Found Treasures to get the address and realized it was on Therry Street, just near the organics section of the Victoria Market. I raised my gaze to Azriel. “Can you take us there?”

He nodded. “The image of the market is clear enough in your mind to allow transport.”

“Good.” I grabbed my handbag, then stepped into his waiting arms. “Onward, dear reaper.”

He zapped us out of there. Therry Street wasn’t all that crowded, thanks to the fact that the market closed at two on Thursdays and it was close to that now. I stepped away from Azriel and scanned the nearby buildings, looking for building numbers. After a moment I spotted one; Found Treasures was closer to the Elizabeth Street end. We headed there in silence, our shoulders occasionally brushing and the sounds of the stallholders
packing up for the day ringing all around us. Normal, everyday sounds in a life that had become far from normal. And in many ways, it was
never
going to be normal again—not only was I in love with a reaper, but I also carried his child.

“What are we going to do once this is over?” I said abruptly.

He glanced at me, one eyebrow raised. “Live and love and raise our child.”

“But you’re a reaper—a Mijai. You can’t walk away from that, can you?”

“No, I can’t, especially now, when there is only one portal remaining between hell, the fields, and here.”

“So how can you live here and yet be there? You may be an extraordinary being, Azriel, but you cannot be in two places at once.”

He half smiled, but there was a seriousness in his eyes that suggested he’d been thinking about this very question for some time. I guess it was pretty typical that it had only
just
occurred to me.

“Being a Mijai simply means that when there is trouble, I will be called away. I am a warrior, and like the soldiers of this world, I will answer the call to arms when it comes.”

“So when there is no such call, you can be here?”

His smile grew, crinkling the corners of his bright eyes. “This is where both my Caomh and my son will be—do you really expect me to be anywhere else?”

“Well, you do have a family—”

“Who, aside from my sister’s appearance when Jak died, I have not seen in aeons.”

“Who,” I added, ignoring him, “I would very much like to meet. You once told me that family means everything to reapers, Azriel. I want our son to be a part of not just
my
family, but yours as well.”

“Using our son like that,” he said, voice even despite
the flash of annoyance in his eyes, “is what I would believe you’d call playing dirty.”

“Hey, if it overcomes your stubborn determination to set yourself apart from your family—a decision you made because you were ashamed of your fall from grace more than they were—then it’s worth it.”

“You have no idea what my family does and doesn’t think—”

“Neither do you,” I cut in. “But if your family was so ashamed, I very much doubt your sister would have answered your plea for someone to come and collect Jak’s soul. Especially if stubbornness runs in the family.”

“I can see it running in
our
family,” he all but muttered. “And may the fates help me if our son has acquired even a portion of yours, not to mention your determination to stick your nose into the business of others.”

I grinned. “Ah, but your business is now my business. That’s what being a couple means here on good old Earth.” I stopped as we reached a pretty, purple painted sign that said, in a whimsical sort of font, “Found Treasures.” The shop itself was a tiny space squeezed in between two larger shops. It had a small window barely two feet wide and an ornate wooden door that was currently open. A gaily colored string curtain hung in the doorway, swaying softly in the slight breeze. “And here we are.”

He brushed aside the curtain and ushered me inside. The air in the small shop was rich with the scents of sandalwood—a scent from my childhood, as Mom had used it to help calm the minds of her clients—as well as bergamot and clove, both of which provided protection from negative or harmful forces. In
this
case, however, I doubted they’d be of much help, given we were dealing with the ultimate of negative forces—a dark practitioner.

The shop itself consisted of little more than a
cloth-covered round table and several comfortable chairs. The walls were painted in a soothing green but otherwise bare, and the floor was a mix of old rugs and polished floorboards. Again, it very much reminded me of my mother’s workroom, and a pang of regret and sorrow ran through me. Her soul might have moved on to be reborn, but—because I was destined to become a dark angel—mine would not. Which meant that I’d never have the chance to see her again—unless, of course, sometime in the future, when my life here had ended and my life as a Mijai had begun, I could find her. Maybe even talk to her.

That wasn’t too much to hope for, was it?

Azriel, unsurprisingly, remained mute on
that
particular subject.

The curtain at the far end of the room was pushed aside, and a pretty blond woman in her midthirties entered. Though she gave us a welcoming smile, her brown eyes scanned us both somewhat critically. I very much suspected that she knew in that instant who we were and why we were there. She didn’t look the type to miss much.

“And how can I help you this lovely afternoon?” she said, her voice warm and mellow.

“Maggie Stiller?” When she nodded, I smiled and held out my hand. “I’m Risa Jones. I believe Kiandra has been in contact with you about helping me locate the owner of a cuff link.”

“Ah yes.” She waved a hand at the small table. “Please, be seated.”

I did, but Azriel remained standing behind me. Maggie closed and locked the door, slipped an “Open Again Soon” sign in the window, then lit four white candles, each one centered in a corner and surrounded by a series of black stones. Warding stones. That there were so many meant she’d taken Kiandra’s warning seriously. As any sensible witch would, I guess.

When she was finally seated opposite me, I said, “Is that going to be enough to protect us?”

She shrugged. “Under normal circumstances, yes, but we are dealing with a dark sorceress, and I daresay she is far more capable in the art of magic than I am. I am a seeker of the lost, not a witch of any true power.”

I frowned. “Then why put yourself at risk like this? I’m sure we could—”

“Psychometry is not an everyday skill,” she cut in, her expression as gentle as her voice. “And there is no one else in this city who has both the skill
and
the knowledge to at least provide
some
means of protection against any possible attack.”

I bit my lip and studied her worriedly. I didn’t want to get anyone else either hurt or dead because of this damn quest, but, by the same token, we really
didn’t
have another option. If there had been, Kiandra would have given it to us.

Maggie reached across the table and pressed her hand over mine. “This is important, is it not?”

“It could be, but—”

“Then we shall proceed,” she cut in again. “Please, give me the cuff link.”

I hesitated, then slowly retrieved it from my handbag and placed it in her waiting hand. Her fingers closed around it, and she frowned. “This piece has a very nasty feel to it—though I guess that isn’t really surprising given who it may belong to.” She rolled it around in her fingers for a minute; then she glanced up at Azriel. “Be on guard. There is undoubtedly a spell on this item, but I cannot sense what type it is. If the wards fail, you will need to protect us all.”

Azriel nodded, something I sensed rather than saw. Maggie took a deep breath, then pressed the cuff link between the palms of both hands and closed her eyes. For a long time, nothing seemed to happen. Then she
twitched and frowned. “I see . . . many people. Men and women, all different, all the same.” Maggie hesitated, her agitation increasing. “Her soul is bitter, dark. I see . . . I see a connection to
you
, one that goes back to your very birth and beyond.”

I glanced grimly up at Azriel.
I wonder if that means our sorceress has been connected to Lucian and his plans since before my birth, or whether the cuff link actually belongs to someone I know.
Like Mike, I thought uneasily.

It could be either,
he replied.
Perhaps tonight you should ask if he is missing such an item.

He wouldn’t admit it if he were,
I said.
And it might just prompt him—or our sorceress, if he is connected—into some form of retaliation. We don’t need that right now.

No, but it would be one way to confirm if he
is
involved. Valdis could then consume his soul and that would be one less threat against you.

It was a nice thought, but a risk I wasn’t sure was worth taking.

“She has many faces, this one,” Maggie continued. “But there is one she wears most often.”

Again she paused, and fear began to taint the air. Fear and something else. Something that whispered of hell and was awfully familiar.