Darkness Hunts (DA 4) (31 page)

“As lovers, perhaps, but you will need another sword when it comes to finding the keys. Our last attempt proved that.”

“I would rather fight alone than fight with someone who plays this game for reasons he has not yet fully disclosed,” Azriel commented.

“I don’t believe I asked for your opinion, reaper,” Lucian snapped, then flexed his fingers and added, “I intend to remain part of this quest, Risa.”

“Well, I’m afraid that’s an option no longer open to you.”

My voice was resolute, but deep inside, doubt stirred. There was a saying about keeping your friends close, but your enemies closer. If Lucian
was
playing a deeper, darker game than mere revenge, it might be far better to keep him around and keep an eye on him.

That is a very dangerous game to play with one such as him,
Azriel commented.

Perhaps, but I just get the feeling that there’s more going on here than what we think
.

Have I not been saying that?
It was wryly said, even if there was a hint of rebuke embedded within the words.

You’ve said a lot of things, reaper, most of them nasty in regard to Lucian.

He deserves nothing less
.

“I will not be kept apart from this quest, Risa.” Lucian’s voice was resolute. Dark. Almost as dark as the gleam in his eyes. “Whatever it takes, whatever I have to do, I
will
be there when you search for the keys.”

“If you get in our way, if you attempt to harm or spell or do anything else to me or my friends, I’ll kill you myself,” I said flatly.

And there went any idea of keeping a close eye on him.

“Warning heeded,” he said. The madness and hate flared again, so strong I could taste it. And while he appeared to have it under control, it nevertheless scared the hell out of me. I’d been sleeping with that darkness. It could have overtaken him—and me—at any time. “And now, heed this. Vengeance is
mine
, and the keys play a major part in that. I will not be deterred.”

“Then we both know where we stand.” I grabbed my purse and slung it over my shoulder. “It was fun while it lasted, Lucian.”

With that, I turned and walked out.

And I didn’t stop walking until I was out of his building and well down the street.

That’s when the shaking began.

I leaned back against the nearby shopfront and sank down, wrapping my arms around my knees as I sucked in great gulps of air. I felt like crying like a baby again, and all I wanted to do was scream,
why, why, WHY?
to the heavens.

Just this once, it would have been nice to catch a break, to have my suspicions proved wrong. Why the hell couldn’t fate play nice for a change? Just one break—surely to god that wasn’t too much to damn well ask?

“It would seem that it is,” Azriel said softly. He sank down in front of me and placed his hands on my thighs. His touch was like fire, and it chased away the shivers and lent me strength. “I am sorry that it has come to this.”

“No, you’re not,” I shot back, taking offense where none was intended. “You wanted Lucian out of my life, and now he is.”

“That is undeniably true,” he agreed. “But I do not wish to see you in such pain. Believe that, if nothing else.”

I
did
believe it. Just as I believed that the pain I was feeling now—a pain that came from betrayal rather than any emotional depth—was only just the beginning.

I rubbed my eyes wearily. “This has all become so totally fucked, Azriel. All I’ve ever wanted is an ordinary life, and that seems so far beyond me now I’m not sure I’ll ever get it back.”

“There was never anything ordinary about you or your life, Risa, however much you might have convinced yourself otherwise.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. The restaurant was ordinary, falling in love with Jak and then getting my heart broken was ordinary, wanting kids and a family sometime in the future is very, very ordinary. That’s what I want back, and yet all of those things may now never be.” My gaze pinned his. Deep in those turbulent blue depths I saw the acknowledgment of my words. “And you know it.”

He wrapped his hands around mine and squeezed lightly. Longing shivered through me, but sadly,
he
was just another desire that was never meant to be.

“Nothing is ever written in stone, Risa. Fate is a fluid thing that changes with every decision and action. The future I see and the one you fear might never be.”

“And just what fate do you see?” I asked softly.

He hesitated. “Death. Many deaths.”

I closed my eyes again. There were some things better left unknown, that was for sure. And yet I couldn’t help asking, “Who?”

“That is uncertain and depends on our actions going forward.”

“Me? You?”

He half shrugged. “There are always casualties in a war, and you and I are front-line soldiers. The possibility is always there.”

I knew that. I’d
always
known that. But somehow, having him say it made it seem that much more inevitable.

“I don’t want to die, Azriel.”

“That is not an outcome that would please me, either.”

I couldn’t help smiling. “Really? I mean, it would at least free you from my bothersome tendency to do what I want rather than listen to your good advice.”

Amusement briefly crinkled the corners of his eyes. “Is there not a saying about challenges being the spice of life?”

“Actually, it’s variety that’s the spice of life.”

“And you are nothing if not variable,” he agreed solemnly.

I laughed, then leaned forward and brushed a quick kiss across his lips. “Thank you.”

His hands clenched briefly against mine. I had no doubt he was fighting the urge to reach for me and deepen the kiss, because I was fighting the very same battle. “For what?” he said, voice controlled and very, very even.

“For making me laugh when all I want to do is cry.”

A shadow fell over us both and my stomach twisted in sudden fear. I glanced up hurriedly, but it wasn’t an angry Lucian, as I’d half expected. The man was thin, rat-faced, and
not
a stranger. He was the shifter my father had used previously to courier packages and notes to me. We’d cornered him in the basement of an abandoned apartment building, but he hadn’t provided a great deal of information, thanks to the fact that my father had erased his memory. As had Azriel, once we’d finished questioning him.

“James Larson,” I said, my gaze dropping to the simple envelope he held in his hand. It was the same sort of paper that my father had used in his previous notes, and my stomach began to twist even harder. “What a pleasure it is to see you again.”

He stopped and frowned. “How the hell do you know me?”

“You’ve delivered stuff to me before.”

“Huh,” he said. “Can’t remember it.”

Good. It meant Azriel had been successful and my father would not be aware that we’d found his courier.

“How did you know I’d be here?” Surely to god my father wasn’t tracking me
that
closely.

“Didn’t,” Larson said. “Not exactly. I was told to keep an eye on the building being renovated up the road, because you’d be there sooner or later. Missed you going in, but saw you exit.”

So my father knew about Lucian. Through reading my thoughts? Or had he been aware of Lucian way before I’d even entered the scene? It was an intriguing possibility, and one that raised all sorts of questions, especially when Lucian’s fierce need for revenge was factored in. Maybe it was a bit of a leap, but it was altogether possible that Lucian wasn’t after only the Raziq and the keys. Maybe he’d been using me to get to my father as well.

“How long have you been waiting for me to appear?”

“A few hours.” He shoved the letter at me. “This is yours.”

I took it rather warily, then glanced at Azriel. He rose in one swift movement and touched Larson lightly on the forehead. The shifter stilled and his face went slack. Azriel closed his eyes and I watched the passersby, checking that no one was getting too interested in just what Azriel was doing.

Then he opened his eyes again. “Your father had his Razan deliver the note and, this time, he did not accompany him.”

“You’ve picked the Razan’s image from Larson’s brain?”

“Yes. And the good news is, Larson picked the Razan’s pocket.” He reached inside the rat-shifter’s jacket, slid a wallet from the pocket, and handed it to me.

I flipped it open and pulled out his driver’s license. The Razan pictured was average-looking with blond hair, blue eyes, and a scar running down the left side of his face. Even in the picture, he didn’t look like the sort of man you’d want to double-cross. “According to this, the Razan’s name is Pierre Danton, and he lives in Southbank.”

Which meant he had some money, because that area was expensive, thanks to its close proximity to the city.

“I do not believe the identity will be real,” Azriel commented. “And he has no doubt realized by now that this rat has been through his pockets. He may not be there if we check it.”

“I doubt a rat picking his pocket will overly worry him, other than the inconvenience of having to replace all his cards.” I waved the license lightly. “How come the Raziq’s Razan live in sewers, and my father’s live in plush apartments? And who the hell does the Razan working for the dark sorcerer belong to, given that they all bear the same sort of ownership tat?”

“I cannot explain why one group lives in luxury and the other not, especially as your father is not known for his generosity when it comes to Razan. As to the other question—” He hesitated. “There are many possibilities.”

I raised a querying eyebrow when he didn’t go on. “Such as?”

“It is always possible that either the Raziq or your father works with the sorcerer.”

I frowned. “Both were pretty damn pissed that he got the key rather than them.”

Azriel nodded. His fingers were still resting on the rat-shifter’s forehead, keeping him still and compliant. “But working with the sorcerer does not mean they ever intended him to get his hands on the keys.”

Then the sorcerer had outsmarted them all, and
that
made him doubly dangerous. “You didn’t mention the third possibility.”

This time he raised an eyebrow. “I was not aware there was one.”

“Lucian.”

“I had not forgotten. I merely discounted him on the basis that the Raziq tore away his power. Thus mutilated, he would not be capable of creating Razan.”

Meaning he
hadn’t
lied to me about everything. I guess that was something to be thankful for. “So you’re certain he hasn’t got full Aedh powers?”

“I’m certain, yes.” He hesitated. “But that does not preclude the possibility that remnants survive. It is far easier to kill an Aedh than to strip them completely of their powers.”

So maybe I
hadn’t
been imagining his fingers going through my flesh, after all. I shivered, and wondered what the hell else we didn’t know. A lot, I was beginning to suspect.

I shoved the license back into the wallet, then handed it to Azriel.

“You do not wish Stane to check his identity?” Azriel asked, surprised.

“Yes, but I can remember the name. It’s better if our rat-faced friend doesn’t suspect we went through his pockets.” I slid a fingernail under the seal and opened the envelope. The note inside was brief and to the point—
Go to the station
. It didn’t say when, so I presumed it meant immediately. I sighed. “You’d better release him.”

He did so, and the rat-shifter blinked. “What about a tip?”

Don’t pick the pockets of scar-faced men who work for would-be dictators
. I reached into my pocket, dragged out a two-dollar coin, and flipped it to him.

He sneered. “Oh come on, a chick as classy as you has to have more than that on her. I went without coffee to deliver that note.”

“Take it or leave it,” I said, a touch irritably. I mean, a fucking courier telling me off for being stingy? He was lucky to even get a damn tip considering this wasn’t America and tipping certainly
wasn’t
the norm. “You were paid well enough to deliver the note, and we both know it.”

“Bitch,” he muttered.

And got a clip over the ear from Azriel for his trouble. “
That
is not polite language to use in the company of a lady.”

It was a comment that earned another sneer, but Larson wisely refrained from saying anything else and walked away.

“Since when have I been a lady?” I asked, amused.

Azriel held out a hand. “I didn’t say you were a lady; I just said it wasn’t the correct language to use when in the company of one.”

“Ah, that’s all right, then.” I gripped his hand and let him pull me up.

He didn’t release me immediately, and there was concern in his expression as his gaze searched mine. “Are you up to facing your father right now?”

“No, but it’s not like I have any other choice. Besides, the sooner we find the remaining keys, the sooner the madness destroying my life might just go away.”

“Do you wish me to take you there?”

Yes,
I thought,
I would
. If only to soak in the heat of his touch for a few precious moments. But it would also sharpen the gathering tide of frustration and, right now, I really didn’t need that. “I thought we’d agreed that wasn’t a good option.”

“We had, but the note implies haste is required, and traveling the fields is faster than walking. It also taxes your strength less than you taking Aedh form.”

All of which was true. I hesitated, torn between desire and sanity, then shook my head. “Walking will clear my head. But you could go get the locker key for me. It’s on the dresser—”

“I am aware of its location.”

He winked out of existence. I went into a nearby café, grabbed a can of Coke and a couple of sausage rolls, then started walking. I didn’t actually feel like eating, but I had a suspicion that I was going to need the fuel over the next couple of hours.

And it was premonitions like
that
I could really do without.