Darkness Devours (Dark Angels 3)

“Perhaps.”

My annoyance flared brighter. “Why are you so damn sure that dark magic is the only way to go? You’re Aedh, not Raziq. What experience have you even had with dark magics?”

His smile was remote and cold. It was a reminder that underneath the “humanized” outer layer, a true Aedh still lay within. “How do you think the keys were made? How do you think the tracer was made? It wasn’t the clean, bright power of the fields that was used, but rather the energy that lies between the dark portal itself and blood. Aedh blood.”

My father had told me the keys had been made with blood, but for some reason I hadn’t made the connection to that and blood magic—and that’s what we were talking about here.

I rubbed my temples again and said, “How do you know so much about the creation of the keys, Lucian? And how the hell would you know they’re made with Aedh blood?”

He snorted. “I was there when we found the first one, remember? I felt their darkness within it.”

“So if you could feel it, why weren’t you able to find the key?” I was the one who’d done that, not him.

“Your father disguised the keys. It was only when we were close enough to touch the thing that I could feel the dark energy within it.”

He lies, came Azriel’s soft thought.

Why would he lie about something like that? I asked. Hell, if he’d wanted the key himself, he could have taken it anytime during the ensuing attack. It wasn’t like either of us could have actually stopped him—we were too busy trying to survive. Or at least, I was. I hadn’t even realized someone else was there—someone other than the creatures who’d attacked us—until it was too late and the key had been taken.

You trust him too much, Risa.

And you distrust him too much. I glanced at Lucian. “Even if the Brindle witches couldn’t help us, I’m not sure it’d be wise to tempt any sort of blood magic.”

“Dark magic isn’t always blood magic,” Lucian replied. “It may be the strongest form of black magic, but it often also depends on the strength of the practitioner.”

“It’s a rather moot point, given that none of us is, or knows, a dark practitioner,” I said wearily.

And Ilianna would kill me if she discovered I was even discussing the option.

“Remember, I have lived on this earth a very long time,” Lucian said. “I may not know or practice dark magic, but I do know how such practitioners might be found. It is not as hard as the witches of this world think.”

I pushed to my feet and walked to the coffeepot. Lucian didn’t move out of the way, forcing me to brush past him. The musky, powerful scent of him teased my nostrils, stirring the ashes of desire.

And again, that struck me as odd. I might be in a physically wretched state right now, but given the fierceness of our attraction up until now, I’d have thought the stirring of lust would have been stronger.

I poured myself a coffee, then turned around and leaned back against the counter. “If,” I said slowly, “the Brindle witches cannot find a way to mute the tracer, then we may have to resort to dark magic. But I draw the line at any sort of blood magic.”

This is not a wise move, Azriel commented.

I knew that. I also knew that we might have no other choice—not if we wanted to keep my father, the keys, and me out of Raziq hands.

Lucian nodded. “I will see what I can find out.”

“Good.” I took a sip of coffee, then added, “In the meantime, get the hell out of here. I need to rest, and I can’t do that with you two dumping animosity all over each other.”

Lucian scowled. “Evict the reaper, then. I cannot see why—”

“Lucian, go. We both know I probably won’t get to rest if you stay, and right now that’s what I need above anything else.”

His gaze swept over me, and then he nodded. “This time I will comply.”

He’d fucking comply next time, too. Otherwise, he and I wouldn’t be seeing each other in any way. If there was one thing I couldn’t abide, it was a man who ran roughshod over his partner—a fact I thought he might have cottoned to after being on the outs these last couple of days.

He sent a less than pleasant glance Azriel’s way, then spun and left the room. As the door slammed shut behind him, I walked back to the table and sat down. I pulled the dinner plate toward me and resolutely ate everything on it—more out of the knowledge that I needed the sustenance than any real desire to actually eat.

“You should sleep,” Azriel said softly. “You are running at the limits of your strength.”

“I know.” I leaned back in the chair and drank some coffee. “Tell me honestly—do you think the Brindle witches’ magic is going to be strong enough to counter the Raziq’s tracer?”