Ghostland (38 page)

It was a relief to get to The Mission. To hurry past it and climb onto an empty bus.

Tamara and her mother were both on the Wainwright porch when Aisling, carrying an exhausted and sleeping Anya, turned the corner with Zurael. The child didn’t wake when she was transferred to Annalise’s waiting arms.

Aisling’s fingers went to the sun-shaped pendant at her wrist. Annalise shook her head and whispered, “Levanna wants you to keep it.”

The dusk approached too rapidly for them to linger. But Aisling wanted to. Her heart felt strangely heavy, her arms empty now that Annalise had Anya.

“Visit the child when you can,” Annalise said with an understanding smile.

“I will.”

Aisling left the porch and joined Zurael where he waited beyond the warded boundaries of the witches’ property. Her thoughts shifted from Anya to Aziel and her pace quickened.

Destruction and devastation greeted her when she opened the door. The old, tattered furniture was turned over, tossed against the wall and left broken. Cabinet doors hung open in the kitchen. But it was the silence, the emptiness, the fear of finding Aziel dead that numbed her to the core.

She didn’t protest when Zurael urged her forward and to the side, closing the door behind them so a guardsman driving by wouldn’t know they were back. “Let me check the other rooms,” he said, voice soft, his knuckles brushing her cheek, his eyes burning with fierce tenderness.

Aisling nodded and leaned against the wall for support. Guilt swamped her.

How easily she’d convinced herself it was Father Ursu who had sent the guardsmen after her, using bedclothes or a discarded towel from her night in the church as a scent article. How easily she’d pushed aside her worry for Aziel, told herself he was safe in the house. If only . . .

“Aziel’s not here,” Zurael said, and she sagged, torn between relief and dread.

Sixteen

RAGE coursed through Zurael over the violation of Aisling’s home and the pain radiating from her with the loss of her pet. He felt savage, barely in control—with no outlet for his fury other than passion.

He took her in his arms and crushed his mouth to hers, promised her with the force of his kiss that he’d see her pet returned and her suffering avenged. She softened immediately. Clung to him for strength and comfort, and in doing so, gentled him.

As they’d traveled through The Barrens, they’d decided on a plan of action, reasoned that the best place to hunt the ones responsible for Ghost was Sinners, where there would be no repercussions from either the humans present or the law.

“If the man in charge of the guardsmen and his wife know anything about this, we’ll learn it tonight,” Zurael said, parting from the kiss just long enough to say the words before recapturing her lips.

He rubbed his tongue against hers. Didn’t know how he’d ever resisted the lure of her mouth, the soul-shattering intimacy of sharing a kiss.

A desperation settled over him. If they were successful tonight in destroying those responsible for Ghost, then he would have to turn his attention to his own task and she would become bait in a trap for Javier.

He could see no other way. But the thought of her being in danger—

It couldn’t be helped. Until he’d returned to his father’s kingdom with the tablet in his possession, their future together was uncertain and her life would be at risk from the Djinn.

With a groan he picked Aisling up and carried her to the bathroom. He set her on her feet next to the shower stall.

“We need to hurry if we’re going to get to Sinners,” he said, stripping before reaching in to turn on the water.

Her clothes fell away quickly and he shivered in ecstasy at the feel of her skin against his. They stepped underneath the water, already lost in the steamy cocoon of passion.

Zurael lifted her, impaled her. His tongue thrust against hers with the same urgency as his cock plunged into her slit.

He promised himself that one day he would lay her on a bed covered with silken pillows and sheets. He would spend hours pleasuring her with his mouth and hands—and being pleasured in return. But here, now, with the night swiftly approaching, he coupled with her furiously. He swallowed her cry of release and came in a shuddering, hot eruption when her channel tightened like an erotic fist around his penis.

They hurried through the remainder of their shower, then dressed and ate. A knock sounded as they were ready to leave.

Aisling went to the window and peeked out, felt her breath freeze in her lungs at the sight of a priest’s black robes.

“It’s Father Ursu,” she said, keeping her voice low enough so it wouldn’t be heard through the door.

A warm swirl of air greeted her announcement. She turned to find the room empty.

She didn’t think it was a coincidence that Father Ursu had arrived so soon after she’d used the bus pass, though unlike before, she’d slipped it through the magnetic card reader only once, then used folding money to pay Anya and Zurael’s fare—hoping the Church wouldn’t take the time to question the bus driver and discover she hadn’t been traveling alone. She opened the door but blocked it with her body so Father Ursu couldn’t enter and delay them from getting to Sinners.

Worry creased his forehead. His eyes were kindly until he glanced behind her, to the devastation of the living room.

Surprise registered in his face. And though she would never trust him, she didn’t think it feigned.

“What happened here?” he asked. “Who did this?”

“I don’t know who’s responsible. It was like this when I returned home.”

His attention shifted to the right. “At least your pet wasn’t harmed.”

For an instant the sight of the black ferret left Aisling giddy with happiness. But when he didn’t chirp a greeting or move from his position next to the workroom doorway, she knew it was Zurael and not Aziel.

She fought the worry that threatened to crush her with thoughts of Aziel, realized Zurael’s appearance was meant to get a reaction from Father Ursu, to gauge whether or not he might know where Aziel was.

Aisling considered what she’d seen in Father Ursu’s face and heard in his words. Once again she thought they were unfeigned.

She realized he must have questioned the driver who took them to the edge of Oakland the day before. Otherwise he wouldn’t have known Aziel wasn’t with them.

Uneasiness knotted her stomach when she looked at Father Ursu and caught him with his eyes closed, his eyebrows drawn together, his attention still on Zurael.

Javier’s words rang in her mind.
I spent a great deal of my childhood in the tender care of the Church, much of it with Father Ursu, who saw the dark nature of my soul—read my aura and the strength of my inherent gifts.

Father Ursu opened his eyes and caught her looking at him. “Aisling,” he said, and the weight he gave her name invited confession—as if he’d read Zurael’s aura and knew she consorted with a demon. “May I come in?”

“I’m just on my way out.”

“This close to dusk? Do you think that’s wise?”

She thought it better to deflect him if she could. “I’m not going far. Just to a friend’s house.”

A disappointed expression settled on his features. “I suspect the
friend
you intend to visit is the very one I’d hoped to speak with you about. As you know, Henri’s death weighs heavily on me. I was his priest, and more often than not, the only friend he felt he could talk openly to. I feel a great deal of responsibility toward you as well. You’re a beautiful young woman out on your own for the first time and alone in a strange place. Just because I wear the robes of the Church doesn’t mean I don’t understand loneliness or the temptations of the flesh.”

Aisling couldn’t prevent the heat from rising in her cheeks. She glanced beyond him at the growing dusk, wanted to bolt from his presence and his false attempts to befriend her.

Father Ursu’s face softened, invited confidence. “Last night it was brought to my attention that you’d gotten off the bus near The Mission and hadn’t caught it for a return trip. I suspected, given your history, you might have decided to help Davida with the orphans. But I was still concerned enough to contact her. She told me you’d been there in the company of a man previously, and she’d seen you entering The Barrens with that same man earlier in the day.”

Aisling’s heart raced along with her thoughts. Questions formed but she didn’t speak, because asking them would also reveal what she knew, what she guessed.

When she didn’t say anything, Father Ursu’s sigh filled the space between them. He made a point of looking at the devastation behind her in the living room. “Aisling, have you considered that what happened here is a result of your involvement with your
friend
? No decent man would take a young woman into The Barrens.”

She kept her silence, and his expression became grave. She willed him to say more, to answer the questions she didn’t dare ask.

He said, “A couple of guardsmen lost their lives in The Barrens last night because after speaking to Davida, I grew very concerned for your welfare and initiated a search.”

Aisling sagged with a lessening of the guilt over leaving Aziel behind. She’d been right in thinking the Church was behind the search, had probably offered the linens she’d used as scent articles.

Her reaction seemed to satisfy Father Ursu. She wondered if he’d suspected her of having something to do with the deaths. She thought maybe the purpose of his visit had been accomplished, but then he said, “I’m afraid the Church incurred quite a bit of expense on your behalf, Aisling.”

An icy finger traced her spine. This was the very thing she’d worried about from the first and sought to avoid—being entrapped by debt.

She met his gaze boldly, refusing to become a victim. “It was your choice to initiate a search.”

A part of her expected him to point to Zurael, to hint she could find herself accused of consorting with a demon. Instead he nodded his head in agreement. “You’re correct. The Church can’t expect you to reimburse it for the expense of the search. However, quite some time ago Henri tithed this house to the Church. While he lived in it, there was no reason to expect rent from the property. But with his death, and the cost incurred because of the search, those in charge of the Church’s finances have successfully argued this property should be offered to someone able to pay rent. At Bishop Routledge’s insistence, they’re willing to give you a week before vacating or signing a rental agreement.”

Aisling could guess at their plan. If they believed Ghost was made during the full moon, then that would be the time to use her as their weapon against its maker.

She didn’t ask what the rent would be. She knew it would be set impossibly high—so that with the threat of eviction looming over her, she’d think it a godsend when they offered to let her perform a task in exchange for being able to remain in the house.

It would explain why Father Ursu didn’t hint about her alliance with a demon, about the taint he might well see on her. To accuse her might make her flee, or it could bring suspicion on the Church if during a trial they were found to have used her services while suspecting she might summon a demon in the course of doing the task they asked of her.

But even guessing at their plan, even knowing if she was successful tonight, there would be no need to search for the ones responsible for Ghost, fear threatened to crowd in. She would have to seek shelter elsewhere. She wouldn’t willingly enter into a contract with the Church and give them leverage over her.

Aisling kept her worry for the future hidden and held at bay, reminded herself that whoever had destroyed her furnishings hadn’t found and taken the purse of silver coins.

It would buy her time. The sun pendant at her wrist made her hope the Wainwrights would serve as important allies if the Church threatened her with accusations of practicing black magic.

She glanced again at the darkening sky and said, “I need to leave now.”

Father Ursu frowned, perhaps expecting her to cry in fear over the threat of being put out on the street, to beg him to intercede on her behalf. But the darkness held danger for him, too, and he contented himself with saying, “I’ll check in on you in a few days.”

THE same two bouncers guarded the front door of Sinners. They showed no surprise when Aisling and Zurael approached. But then Aisling suspected they were used to seeing people narrowly escape death, only to return on another night to court it.

She shivered, preferring the dark and the predators that lurked outside to the ones who glided through the hallways of the restored Victorian. She was acutely aware of the casket-shaped Ghost container in her pocket, of the strangers who even now gathered at the windows of the clubs lining the street in anticipation of a night of excess and violence.

The bouncer to the left took the offered money. The one to the right opened the door.