Darkness Falls (Dark Angels 7)
Page 55
I nodded and glanced back at Maggie. “Thanks for your help, and I’m sorry that we placed you in danger. We didn’t think—”
She smiled and waved a hand, effectively cutting me off. “I was forewarned about the dangers, so there is no need to apologize. Good luck with your quest.”
“Thanks. I think we’ll need it.”
Maggie unlocked the door and, as we left, took the sign out of the window. I paused on the pavement and glanced to the left. It would have been nice if the market was open—I could have grabbed some much-needed clothes.
“There are retail shops not far from here, are there not?” Azriel said, ever practical.
“Yes, but it would have been cheaper here.” And not only did I not want to waste good money on clothes that would only get destroyed by either becoming Aedh or in whatever upcoming battles the fates had planned, but I didn’t feel up to fighting the crowds that were undoubtedly there. “But I can’t run around in borrowed clothes all day, so down there I will go.”
“Will you return to your office once you have secured some fresh clothing?”
“Yes.” I squinted up at him. “Why? It shouldn’t take that long to destroy one cuff link, should it?”
“It shouldn’t, but I am not familiar with dark magic and have no idea what it might involve.” He shrugged. “Call me if you need me, or if you feel the slightest inkling of danger.”
“I will.”
He half disappeared, then paused, his gaze narrowing as he said, “And don’t do anything stupid while I’m away.”
I grinned. “Damn, and here I was planning to go offer a certain bitch a prime seat on the express coach to hell.”
“I would call that comment sarcastic, except for the fact that you are more than a little capable of such an action if the right buttons were pushed.”
I held up my hands. I promise, no attacking Hunter—or anyone else for that matter—until you get back to hold my hand.
“Good.” And with that, he finally left.
I spun on my heel and headed for Bourke Street and Myer. By the time I’d skimmed quickly through the department store and bought enough clothes to last a few days, then caught a cab back to the café, several hours had past.
Azriel reappeared just as I dumped all my parcels onto my desk. “That cuff link,” he said heavily, “proved to be a very difficult item to destroy.”
I raised my eyebrows as I turned to face him. “Meaning you couldn’t just give it a whack with Valdis?”
“Valdis is very put out by your use of such a term,” he said, amused. “She wishes to inform you she is far more refined than that.”
Refined, Amaya noted. Me not.
I couldn’t help grinning. She might not be refined, but she sure as hell was developing a wickedly dry sense of humor. “So how did you get rid of it?”
“In the end, we didn’t. I simply dumped it in the one place she’s not likely to go looking for it—hell.”
“What?” I said. “Why the fuck would you risk opening the last gate just to get rid of a sorcerer’s cuff link?”
“I didn’t, which is why it took me so long. I waited until it needed to be opened to allow a soul to go through. The reaper escorting said soul was appreciative of the extra protection.”
I blinked. “You know,” I said slowly, “I hadn’t even thought about what losing the first two gates actually meant for reapers. All I’ve really focused on was the fact there was now only one gate standing between us and hell.”
“Or, more precisely, one gate and at least several Mijai.” Azriel’s expression was somber, and with good reason. Mijai numbers had never been huge, but with hell’s spawn escaping daily, their resources were being stretched to the breaking point. “In this instance, there was a bigger-than-normal breakout not long before the soul and guide arrived, and the Mijai stationed there were dealing with that.”
“And it isn’t a situation that will change anytime soon, even if we find the key and spoil the plans of everyone who wants it, is it?” I said. “The remnants might have said they can train reapers to become priests, but I’m thinking that’s not going to be a quick process.”
“It won’t be, which is why I cannot forsake my duties as a Mijai, even to be with you, as much as I might wish. I cannot stand back and watch others fight—and perhaps die—in my place.”
A sentiment I’d repeated often enough myself, so I could hardly say anything against it in this case. I glanced at my watch and saw that it was only four in the afternoon. So much had happened since Hunter’s phone call this morning that it seemed odd that only eight hours had passed rather than ten or twelve.
“Let us be grateful that it’s not ten or twelve,” Azriel commented, voice grim. “Hunter’s deadline is tight enough as it is.”