“That’s unlikely after all this time, isn’t it?”
He raised an eyebrow. “As unlikely as either of those two remembering anything about properties they owned so long ago.”
Touché, I thought. I took a sip of water, then said, “Do you remember anything about either of them?”
“Nothing much. My dealings with them were strictly business, and I basically only advised them on a couple of transactions before they moved away.”
“Any idea where?”
He hesitated. “I believe Sands went to Sydney and Greenfield to the Gold Coast.”
Again, he seemed to be watching me just a little too intently. But why would he mention either location if he had something to hide? I took another sip of water and wished I’d never come here. I wasn’t any good at this sort of cat-and-mouse game—if that was what was actually happening.
“No wonder you lost contact with them.” I shrugged. “I might see if Stane can track them down for me. They might not remember anything, but at least I can say I tried.”
“Indeed.” He was still tapping his fingers, and the sound was almost as mesmerizing as his eyes had been moments before. “I saw on the news that a converted warehouse in Richmond had been blown apart, and it looked an awful lot like yours—was it?”
I nodded, my unease increasing even though I still had no real idea why. “Unfortunately, yes.”
“What on earth happened?”
It was a combination of my demon sword and the backlash of a witch’s spell, and it blew the hell out of both my father and the house. The words were right on the tip of my tongue, ready to blurt out, but I somehow restrained them. Maybe I was more tired than I thought. Or maybe, I thought, my gaze flicking briefly to his fingers, something else was going on.
But if it was magic, it was so subtle that I couldn’t feel it.
“I believe they’re still investigating,” I said, a little more abruptly than I should have, “but they suspect a faulty gas pipe.”
“Then it was fortunate no one was caught in the blast.” He paused. In the brief silence, his rhythmic tapping seemed to echo, a sound that had my nerves crawling. “Though I would have thought a blast strong enough to create such a crater would have at least damaged the houses on either side.”
“Obviously, the fates decided it wasn’t anyone else’s turn to die right then.”
“Anyone else’s?” He raised an eyebrow. “That’s an odd way of putting it. It almost sounds as if someone did die.”
That’s because someone did. Again I had to bite down on the comment. Which was weird. I might think those sorts of things, but I rarely came so close to blurting them out that it was an effort to restrain them.
Except, maybe, when that restraint involved Hunter. Though I could and did hold back comments from her, and more easily than I was here. It was almost as if I’d been slipped some sort of truth drug . . . but if I had, when had it happened? The waitress had brought our water in a jug, and I doubted it had been tainted with anything, as she’d used the same jug to fill the newlyweds’ glasses.
I frowned, my gaze again going to his fingers. The uneasy sensation that something was happening got stronger. Maybe the tapping had nothing to do with my sudden urge to answer more honestly than I should, but could I take the risk?
“No, no one died, because there was no one in the house at the time.” I hesitated, then added, somewhat testily, “I hate to say this, but your finger tapping is getting damn annoying.”
He glanced down at his hand, his expression surprised. “Sorry, I didn’t realize I was doing it.”
I stared at him, torn between wanting to believe him and suspecting a lie. His surprise seemed genuine, but part of me just wasn’t buying it. But that same part was also looking—almost hoping—for evil to be found here rather than somewhere closer to home.
“Sorry, it’s just been a shit day. I didn’t mean to sound so snappy.”
He waved the comment away. “And I didn’t mean to be overly inquisitive. I just—” He hesitated and waved his hand again, this time the movement overly dramatic. “I promised your mother to keep an eye on you if anything ever happened to her. I know our relationship is a merely professional one, but I’d still feel remiss if I didn’t at least try to keep my word.”
I suspected it was said to make me feel bad, and in that, he succeeded. And yet, I still couldn’t escape the notion that something was very off—with this situation, and with him.
Azriel? Is there anyone else in this restaurant who seems to be acting oddly? Or anyone who appears overly interested in what might be going on in this room?
There was no reply. Where the warm buzz of Azriel’s thoughts usually was, there was only radio silence. I had no sense that anything was wrong—and I surely would have, given that we were now linked body and soul—so that could only mean he was somehow being blocked.
And that required magic.
Which meant that either Lauren was near, or Mike was a whole lot more than he ever seemed.