Darkness Falls (Dark Angels 7)

Meaning she can be active in my world? A tiny sliver of hope burst through me. The Dušan was one hell of a weapon to have in your corner.

I cannot say yes or no, because I am not familiar with the magic that created this one. I merely suggest it is a possibility given the right motivation. Good luck, young Aedh.

The right motivation? What the hell does that mean?

The remnant didn’t answer, mainly because he was already gone. I sighed in frustration and returned to my body. I woke with a start but didn’t immediately move, keeping my eyes closed as I listened to the call of birds and the whisper of the wind, trying to find any sense of change, or danger.

No one was near. Not even Azriel.

I pushed upright. The remaining bit of key had shifted position and was now digging into one butt cheek. I moved it to a more comfortable spot, then began to pace. The sun was on the rise and it made me acutely aware that time was passing, that Hunter’s deadline was drawing uncomfortably close.

But would her deadline even matter now that we’d made such a blatant attack on one of her Cazadors? She’d have to know the only reason we’d do something like that would be to prevent her from knowing the key’s location.

Familiar energy slithered across my skin. As I spun around, Azriel appeared. “You took longer than I thought you would.”

“Yes.” His expression was less than pleased. “The fates were decidedly unhappy about your decision to split the key. I was forced to defend it.”

“Oh.” My gaze scanned him. He looked whole and unhurt, which was something of a relief given the sudden suspicion that when he said “defend it,” he meant physically rather than verbally. “And?”

“They’re still not pleased, but they do see certain advantages in the current situation. Which, they assure me, is still tenuous.”

“Oh, fabulous.”

“Yes.” He crossed his arms and glanced at the nearby gateway. “You were successful?”

I nodded. “But I have a bad feeling about Hunter.”

“With reason, if what the fates implied is anything to go by.”

The tension running within me ramped up to another level. If the fates were saying that, then Hunter was on the move. I flexed my fingers and resisted the urge to scream in frustration. It wouldn’t help. It wouldn’t even make me feel better.

“We need to contact Markel and Stanford and see if they’ve had any luck fashioning a means to stop Hunter.” I hesitated. “Are you able to find either of them via their life force?”

He hesitated, his gaze narrowing slightly. Then he nodded. “I’ve located Stanford.”

“And can you take us to him?”

He hesitated again. Our connection came to life and, just for an instant, I saw what he was seeing—a rather old-fashioned living room, complete with roaring log fire and antique furniture. He was tapping into Stanford’s memories.

“Something I can only do from this distance because I have met the man and am familiar with the song of his soul.” Azriel held out a hand. “Let us go.”

A heartbeat later we were standing in the middle of the room I’d just seen. Stanford leaned against the smoke-stained wooden mantel, contemplating the flames, but the moment we appeared, he spun, teeth bared and eyes promising death. Then recognition hit and he immediately composed himself, although his canines were a little slower in retracting.

“I do apologize for my reaction,” he said. “But given the events of the last twenty-three hours, it is, perhaps, somewhat understandable.”

“If you think the last twenty-three hours have been tough on you,” I replied grimly, “then you should try standing an hour or two in my shoes.”

“I would not trade positions with you for all the wealth and power in the world,” he said, the amusement in his voice at odds with the shadows that remained in his eyes. “Particularly at the moment. Hunter, as you may suspect, is less than happy.”

“Which is why I’m here. How did you do getting those wards developed?”

“Ah,” he said. “There has been a minor problem in that area.”

“You had better not be telling me that you can’t build the wards and break Hunter’s connection with her god.” I took a step forward, Amaya suddenly in my hand and screaming for blood. Azriel touched my shoulder, though I wasn’t entirely sure whether he was calming me or himself with the contact, given that I could feel the rush of his anger through my mind.

Stanford looked somewhat taken aback. “It is one thing to hear tales of your sword, quite another to actually see and hear her.”

“The wards,” I said, through somewhat gritted teeth. God, if this bastard didn’t come through after everything he’d promised, Amaya might just get the blood she was screaming for.