Darkness Rising (Dark Angels 2)

Meaning it had been allowed to happen. An arena filled with some of the strongest vampires in Melbourne could have easily controlled such a small number of younger counterparts.

“Then why did Alston fear retribution if Whitfield was dead? And who would be seeking it now?”

“If I knew the answer to that second question, you would already be dead,” she said. “As to the first, Whitfield did have a number of friends on the council who swore vengeance. However, they saw the error of their ways, and I doubt they are behind the Maniae curse. They don’t have the skills needed, for one thing.”

Meaning they’d been threatened with a similar fate if Hunter’s expression was anything to go by. “According to Greenfield, you don’t need any sort of witch skill. You just need the spell and the desire.”

“But it is a spell no one but a witch can get access to.”

“We both know a witch did recently access it.”

“Ah yes,” she drawled. “I have already talked to the Frankston coven. They can tell us little of interest about Deborah Selwin.”

“Meaning we’ve hit a dead end?”

“Meaning I have placed a watch on her home and her business, and I will interrogate her the minute she appears at either.” She paused again. “Of course, it would be unfortunate for you if I did get hold of her first.”

Which I doubted she would, if what I’d been told at the Brindle was any indication.

“You won’t. I’ll be in contact when I have her.” It was said with more confidence than I felt. I signed off and shoved my phone into my pocket. “Did you hear all that?”

Azriel nodded. “It is troubling that I might not be able to get into this ritual ground.”

“It just means I’ll have to stay out of trouble.” Or run like hell when it hit. “It would take some serious magic to stop you or an Aedh, though, wouldn’t it?”

“From the sound of it, this place is steeped in magic.”

I frowned. “Then it just might be the perfect spot to read the Dušan’s book.”

He eyed me for a moment. “Do you think the Brindle witches would approve of that?”

I remembered Kiandra’s statement in the hallway and smiled. “I think they already have.”

“Then it would be safer than attempting to read it elsewhere. But I recommend using the void regardless.”

“You bet your sweet ass I’ll be using it. Even if we are safe inside that place, that won’t stop the Raziq from surrounding it and snatching us the minute we leave.”

The ghost of a smile flitted over his face. “And why would you bet my ass on something like that?”

I snorted softly. “Now you’re just teasing me.”

“Perhaps,” he agreed. “And I would hazard a guess that this is the first time you’ve called any reaper’s ass sweet. Should I be honored?”

He was looking at me intently again, and again heat stole through my cheeks. Which was really, really weird. “Maybe.”

“Then I shall have to work on said ass, because I’d really prefer a firm yes to an unconvincing maybe.”

And with that, he winked out of existence again, leaving me wondering if—in his own weird way—he’d actually been flirting with me.

“No,” I muttered. “You’re imagining it.”

No rebuttal came out of the air. If he was still following my thoughts, he was keeping his answers to himself. No surprise there.

I climbed onto my bike and started her up, firing out of the parking lot and into the traffic. But I didn’t head immediately to Mount Macedon—not only because I needed to know what was happening with the void, but because I wasn’t about to go up there without taking one or two precautions. And while that meant I should be talking to Uncle Quinn—who probably knew as much about demons and whatnot as Azriel—talking to him would no doubt result in me being chained to a chair unable to move for the next week or so. Neither he nor Aunt Riley had been overly impressed with the results of my last encounter with one of hell’s minions.

I made my way to Mirri’s and parked in a lot a few buildings down. After slinging my bag across my shoulder, I walked back, taking the stairs two at a time until I reached the third floor.

I pressed the doorbell and, in the distance, the tinny melody of “Witchy Woman” rang out. Sadness swirled; I’d used that same tune as Mom’s ring tone. I blinked rapidly and forced a smile as the door was opened.