Darkness Rising (Dark Angels 2)

Not that it mattered what the hell this place actually was. All that did matter was getting the hell out of here before whoever had snatched me returned. I took a slow, steadying breath, and then reached for my Aedh form. But as the magic within me surged, a rainbow shimmer flared across the arched ceiling and pain—dark, familiar, and as sharp as a knife—speared into my flesh, right into my soul. I gasped and jackknifed into a fetal position, recognizing the magic, knowing what it could do. It was the magic the Aedh had used to stop the shift and break my connection with Azriel.

But this felt slightly different from that earlier version. It was darker. More bloody. Which didn’t exactly make sense.

“Ah,” a voice behind me said, just about giving me a heart attack in the process. “You’re awake. Excellent.”

I twisted around sharply—too sharply, if the needles of pain driving into my ribs were any indication—and saw him. Or rather, saw his outline, which appeared tall and wiry. The rest of him was difficult to make out, simply because he seemed to merge with the shadows, though I had no sense of a vampire. But I had no sense of humanity, either.

In fact, I still had no sense of anything living. It was as if he weren’t even here.

I frowned and flared my nostrils, dragging in the foul air, sorting through the various stenches. There was definitely no indication that there was anyone else in this underground room besides myself.

So if he wasn’t here, where the hell was he?

And just how well could he see me?

“Who the hell are you?” I asked, wincing a little at my loudness but, at the same time, glad the shakiness that still afflicted my muscles wasn’t apparent in my voice.

“I actually believe you’ve been looking for me,” he said, his voice jovial and plummy. “I’m—”

“Ike Forman,” I finished for him as I scanned the walls again. I couldn’t see any cameras or microphones anywhere in the room, and rather doubted he’d have access to the sort of nanotechnology that Stane would—or that he’d risk such expensive equipment in a place like this. So even if the figure in front of me was a projection rather than a reality, he still had to be somewhere close by. If only because most projections had distance limits. “You’re the man who has taken over Handberry’s team—not that there’s any of them left right now.”

“No,” he said sadly, as if he really did regret losing them though I suspected quite the opposite. “They rather underestimated your capabilities. B

ut rest assured that I will not.”

Men had been underestimating me my entire life. I was hoping it wasn’t going to stop now, despite Forman’s statement. “What do you want with me?”

I pushed upright, only to discover my legs were tied together and my feet somewhat numb. I fell back down, my knees hitting the concrete so hard it jarred my already aching body.

I swore and his mirth swam around me. “Your legs are tied together with wire. I was tempted to use silver, but that might cause more damage than I wish just yet. We may need to leave this bolt-hole in a hurry if your dark protector breaks the outer barriers.”

Meaning Azriel was somewhere close by? Part of me hoped so, and part of me refused to rely on that hope, preferring to depend on my own instincts and abilities.

Then the words just yet registered. I licked my lips and tried not to think about the underlying threat. I tried to think with some degree of clarity. It wasn’t easy when my head felt like someone was trying to claw their way out of it.

So why was he using ordinary wire when silver was a much safer option for werewolves? If he knew enough about me to construct a barrier capable of preventing me becoming Aedh, then he’d obviously know I was also part were. What was he planning?

It was a thought that niggled as I said, “To repeat my earlier question, what the hell do you want with me?”

“I want what my predecessor wanted. The keys, or the book that tells us how to find them. I’m not fussed either way.”

“But why do you want them? You’re neither Aedh nor reaper, so gaining the keys to heaven or hell would be useless to you.”

“Who said I wanted the keys?”

I carefully shifted position until I could see both him and the wire that was holding me hostage. It was a fine gray line that snaked away into deeper shadows. I had no idea what I was attached to, but I had no doubt it would be secure. I tested it anyway, and got the result I expected. No give, and no indication that it would readily pull free of whatever waited at the other end.

Interestingly, Forman didn’t comment. Which maybe meant that, if I kept my actions small enough, he wouldn’t see them.

“So it’s Harlen who actually wants the keys?” I said.

He paused. “I don’t know a Harlen.”

“Well, you certainly did when you were talking to Handberry the night he died. In fact, Handberry was going to meet him. I guess it’s lucky that Harlen didn’t actually turn up, or he might have become the soul stealer’s dessert.”

I shifted back onto my butt and hugged my knees close to my chest. Fire ran up my bruised legs, but I ignored that. The position got me closer to the wire tying my legs together. But there was no knot to undo. The damn thing had been soldered on.

“Ah yes, I do recall that conversation now,” he said, clearly amused if the note in his voice was anything to go by. “But Harlen is of no interest to either of us right now.”