He held up his hands. “Please, let me explain.”
I waved a hand in silent invitation. He smiled, though it was a little less than gracious.
“The wards we talked about would be of little use in the current situation. Hunter is marshaling all those who support her, and she plans both murder and war.”
“War? Against who?” I asked, confused. “She’s already taken out the most vocal of those who oppose her.”
“The most vocal, yes, but certainly not all her opposition. I and many others still live, and it is against us she plans her war. It cannot come to that.”
No, it could not, if only because a war between the fractional sections of the vampire community could never be good for the rest of us. Hunter certainl
y wouldn’t care about the collateral damage she’d cause, not in her current state of mind, anyway.
“So what has this got to do with your inability to produce the wards?”
“It’s not a matter of inability; it’s a matter of practicality.” He began to pace. “Hunter is undoubtedly aware of our moves, as we are of hers. I have no doubt that she is now using Cazador travelers to track us, as we have been using them to track her. While this place is warded against astral interference of any kind, many other places are not. Nor is there such a thing as personal wards against travelers spying on you.” His gaze flashed to mine. “As you well know. She will also suspect that I have been in contact with you—”
“If she suspected that,” I cut in, “she would have warned me against it. She hasn’t.” Not since warning me against talking to Stanford after I’d interviewed him during the investigation into her lover’s murder.
“Which does not preclude the possibility of awareness,” he snapped. Then he grimaced. “Sorry, but Hunter has not lived this long by being caught unprepared. Hence the problem with the wards—she will never, in this current climate, agree to meet you at some location over which she has no control.”
“But that’s an easy solve—we simply agree to her location but in my time frame, thereby giving you time to set up the wards.”
He snorted. “And you think she wouldn’t already have such a location well guarded? Surely you are not that naive.”
Maybe not naive but overly hopeful given the situation and whom we faced? Yeah, I was that. “So what you’re basically saying is that despite all the promises you made, I’m on my fucking own?”
“No, I am not saying that.” There was a dangerous edge to his voice. One that suggested he wasn’t all that different from Hunter. And yet Markel stood by him, and while I didn’t know Markel all that well, either, my instincts leaned toward trusting him.
Whether those instincts could be relied upon in this instance remained to be seen.
“Then what are you saying?” Because we’re running out of time here, I wanted to add, but I somehow managed to restrain the urge. He was just as aware as I was of the time frame, and I certainly didn’t want that fierce and angry light in his eyes to get any stronger. Stanford was a former Cazador; it was also possible that he’d either been a berserker or come close to it.
The latter, Azriel said. He would not be standing here otherwise.
Because the council killed berserkers. Still, did I want to help someone who walked such a fine line between sanity and madness gain control of the council?
If it helps us defeat Hunter and gives us a chance for a life together, then we have little other choice.
True. I returned my attention to Stanford as he said, “Markel is again following you astrally—”
“Why?” I cut in again. “Surely Hunter would suspect he’s working for the opposition?”
“She probably does, but in this case it does not matter. He is not following you officially, but rather from the safety of a location even I am unaware of. Once Hunter contacts you—which should not be long given your attack on Myer—he will contact me with the location of the meeting, and we will move in to nullify Hunter’s forces the instant you and the reaper are within the building.”
“Great, except for the fact that it’s not going to help with the whole ‘line to her god’ problem with Hunter.”
“No, but this will.” He strode across the room and picked up a small, dusty-looking box from a side table. Inside, sitting on plush red velvet, was a simple black-stone knife. Its blade was rough-hewn and connected to the haft by simple rope, but edges of the actual blade looked razor-sharp and it glinted softly in the room’s half-light.
“How is an old knife going to help in this situation? She’s not going to let me get close enough to stab her, and I doubt if this thing was designed to be thrown.”
“It isn’t.” He took the knife from the box almost reverently. “It is designed to be used in close combat. It is also the means with which you will break Hunter’s connection to her god.”
I glanced down at the knife in his hands. It certainly didn’t look that powerful. “How?”
“Ah,” he said. “That’s the rub. I’m afraid it takes both the blood of the user and the blood of the foe to activate the magic within the weapon. Only then can it sever celestial contact.”
Of course there’d be a clause like that. I mean, why would it actually be easy? Nothing else in this whole fucking drama had been, after all.