His hesitation was brief, but nevertheless there. “Because of the connection we have formed.”
I studied him for a moment, sensing that was the truth as far as it went, but knowing there was a whole lot more to it than that—and that he wasn’t about to explain it. I lightly pressed a fingertip against Valdis’s point. Blood welled. I let it drop onto the ward. In an instant it was gone, sucked into the stone itself. Dark, bloody light flickered deeply in its heart, then stilled. But it was not inert. It was waiting.
I shivered, then stood and walked to the next corner. This time I wedged the ward into the strip of garden bed that ran the length of the rear of the building. When I dropped blood onto it, that dark, bloody light began to beat very slowly.
They were coming to life.
I repeated the process with the third stone, and this time the magic was tangible. It crawled across my skin, a force waiting for completion.
I jumped over the rear fence and walked up to the final corner. There was absolutely nowhere to safely put the ward. It was pavement right up to the edge of the building, and there were no cracks in either the concrete or the bricks.
“Then let me make one.” Azriel pressed Valdis’s sharp tip against the lowest visible brick near the corner of the building. Her flames flared briefly and, in seconds, there was a small, thumb-sized hole large enough to securely hold the last ward.
“Perfect.” I squeezed my finger to get a final drop of blood, put it on the stone, then hurriedly dropped it in place.
The energy that crawled across my skin expanded in a rush, sweeping out and up, creating a wall of power that was invisible, but not entirely silent. It reminded me of the crackle and hum often heard when standing under high-voltage power lines. It would certainly be a warning to those who were sensitive to such things that something major now protected this building.
I rose and met Azriel’s gaze. “Are you sure the wards will keep you out?”
In answer, he raised his hand and held it close to the wall. Little bolts of lightning shot toward his fingertips, a warning of what was to come if he pressed closer.
He lowered his hand. “The Aedh is here.”
“The bastard is early.” I flexed my fingers against the sudden urge to grab Amaya and thrust her sharp point into Lucian’s dark heart, then forced a smile and walked around the corner.
He waited in the middle of the three arches that made up the main entrance into the building. “Lucian,” I said, voice somehow very neutral. “How pleasant to see you.”
Amusement touched his lips. “And said with such sincerity, too. Just as well you’re a restaurateur rather than an actress, my girl.”
“I’m not your anything.” I stopped several feet away and crossed my arms. “It’s seven bucks an adult to get into the exhibition. You can pay.”
“My pleasure.” But his gaze wasn’t on me; it was on Azriel. “And it was, many times.”
The anger that exploded from Azriel was so strong, it actually forced me forward a step. How he managed to rein it in, to not attack Lucian, I had no idea. But he did.
He didn’t say anything, either. Maybe he simply couldn’t, lest it break the wall of control.
“Lucian, cut the shit and just get inside,” I growled. “We’re here to find the key, remember?”
“So we are,” he murmured. “But it is infinitely satisfying to know that I have succeeded where he has failed.”
“I wouldn’t be so certain of that,” I bit back, then pushed him up the stairs. Just for a moment, darkness flared in his eyes, yet another reminder that the man I’d spent so much time with was not the person he truly was.
I followed him up the steps and into the shadowed confines of the building’s foyer. Old bank-teller-type windows lined one wall, and it was behind several of these that tickets could be purchased.
“I see your father has done his bit to make this place safe,” Lucian said, smiling at the woman as he paid the entrance fees.
“It’s just unfortunate he was unable to keep the likes of you out.”
Lucian chuckled softly, handed me a ticket, then grandly ushered me forward. “After you, my sweet.”
“You can stick the politeness where the sun don’t shine,” I muttered, then handed the ticket to the collector at the main door and went in.
The next room was vast and had obviously once been the main mail sorting area. There were three rows of exhibits here and, at the rear, a sign stating there were more up the stairs. There were also about a dozen people wandering around and a guard for each of the aisles.
I scanned the room for security cameras and saw four—one on each corner. Between them and the glass covering the majority of the display tables, there was little chance of snatching the key inconspicuously—if it was here, that was.
I made my way to the first aisle and slowly walked through, lingering near each table for several seconds to see if I got any reaction to the items within. This aisle seemed to be a mix of pistols and swords, but none of them set off the internal radar. I walked on.