“Enough to know it was a man. A tall man.” I hesitated, squashing down the instinctive flash of irritation. As he’d said, there was nothing I could do about him accessing my thoughts, so I’d better get used to it. Which was easier thought than done. “It’s a start, at least.”
Azriel’s expression suggested that as starts went, it pretty much sucked. “The magic that prevented us from leaving has dissipated. We should go.”
“I can’t. I’ll need to report this.” Because if I didn’t and Rhoan got wind of it—which he undoubtedly would—then I’d be in deep shit.
Not that I wouldn’t be in deep shit as it was.
I glanced at Lucian. “You’d better leave. There’s no sense in you being here when the Directorate arrives. That’ll only result in hours of questioning.”
“And with my workload, that is not something I desire.” He sheathed his bloodied long knives and bent to kiss my cheek. “Call me when you’re free and we can plan our next assault.”
I nodded. He touched my shoulder lightly, then gave Azriel a somewhat dark look and walked across to the café’s door, opening it with the pick then leaving.
I glanced at Azriel. “Are all the creatures dead?”
He nodded and replaced Valdis. Her blue fire had quieted, even though Amaya still hissed and spat. But flames no longer drenched her blade, and the café was no longer ablaze. So maybe her cry was a reflection of the anger and hurt that still burned inside of me.
“The magic that prevented us from taking our energy forms also smacked of the dark arts,” he said. “I suspect the source is the same.”
I nodded and wearily pulled out my phone. I eyed it for a few moments, knowing I had to call Uncle Rhoan as soon as possible but, at the same time, wanting to delay the inevitable for as long as I could.
“Who else could be after the damn keys?” I glanced at Azriel. “And why?”
“I cannot answer that.”
“But would you, if you could?”
“Yes.”
I grunted, feeling the truth of his words swirl somewhere deep inside. “I can’t understand why anyone else would even want the keys! I mean, if they can’t traverse the gray fields, they can’t get near the gates, so what’s the point of stealing them?”
&nb
sp; “It can only be another Aedh—one we know nothing about—or someone like you. Someone who wears human flesh but is gifted psychically, and who has the ability to walk the fields.”
“You left reapers out of that group.”
“Yes, because no reaper can use black magic.”
“Really? Why? Is it in your makeup or something?”
“In a sense, yes.” He shrugged.
Meaning, that was all the information I was about to get. Although, to be fair, maybe he simply didn’t know himself. “I may be able to walk the fields, but I’ve never seen the gates. In fact, as far as I know, I’ve never been anywhere near them.”
“Which does not preclude the possibility of someone else possessing the same set of skills as you not seeing or knowing of them.”
True. I rubbed a hand across my face, smearing blood, sweat, and God knew what else, then glanced down at my phone again and sighed. Better do it now, while I still had some energy to face him.
I pressed a button on the phone and said, “Uncle Rhoan.” Colors swirled across the screen as the voice-recognition software jumped into action.
A few seconds later his cheerful features replaced the multicolored swirl. “Hey Ris,” he said, but his smile quickly faded. “What the fuck has happened to you this time?”
“Long story. But you might want to get the Directorate over to the Werribee mansion. There’s a whole heap of dead, half-human-shifter things here.”
“Damn it, Risa, I told you to let me investigate the half-shifters!”
“I did. I am. This isn’t related to that, but something else.”