Surprise rippled through me. Now, that was an answer I wasn’t expecting.

And yet it is the only sensible option right now. Markel will surely be aware of her movements, and that, at the very least, might give us some clue as to what she plans next. He paused, his blue eyes narrowing slightly. Just talk. Nothing more. No promises or agreement.

Don’t worry, I said grimly. I’ve learned my lesson about jumping into agreements before thinking about the long-term consequences.

Then perhaps your agreement with Hunter did have some benefit. A touch of amusement swam down the mental lines. Where would you prefer to astral travel from?

Where I’d prefer was my bedroom, but that had been blown to smithereens, perhaps never to be resurrected. I waved a hand to the sofa. “I can get comfortable enough there.”

“Then do so. I will guard.”

I moved across to the sofa and lay down, getting as comfortable as was possible stretched out on a two-seat sofa. Once I was settled, I closed my eyes and concentrated on my breathing, slowing it down, drawing it deep. As my pulse rate dropped, a sense of peace enveloped me and all the tension that rode my body began to slip away. Then, as I’d been taught, I pictured a rope hanging above my head and reached up with imaginary hands to grasp it. It felt thick and real against those fingers, and steel strong as I pulled myself upward along it. Dizziness briefly swept over me, seeming to come from the center of my chest. I ignored it and kept pulling myself up that rope. A pressure began to grow inside me, getting ever stronger, until my whole body began to vibrate under its force. Then, suddenly, I was free and floating above my prone form.

I didn’t hang about, simply imagined myself standing in front of the gigantic shed that was the Central Pier function center in Melbourne’s Docklands district—the place where I’d not only first met Markel, but interviewed the ghost of Frank Logan. In an instant I was there.

And so was Markel. He was tall, with regal features and a body that was as lean as a whip. He bowed rather formally when my gaze met his, and while his expression gave little away, his brown eyes showed a touch of relief.

But it was the man who stood beside him who caught my attention. It was Harry Stanford, Hunter’s archrival and the man who planned to use me to destroy her. He was also tall, with dark hair and skin, and incandescent green eyes that glowed with an unearthly fire here on the astral plane. He’d once been a Cazador, and that, in my estimation, made him the more dangerous of the two, if only because so few of them actually came out sane and whole on the other side. At least according to Uncle Quinn, anyway, and he should know given he was one of those few.

I’d like to say it’s a pleasure to see you both here, I said, unable to hide the edge in my mental tones, but that would be a lie.

Believe me, Markel said, his voice cool, without inflection but oddly pleasant, this is not something I desire, either. Hunter suspects my part in Krogan’s death and watches my every move.

Guilt swirled through me at the mention of his name, and it was a heaviness I doubted I’d ever be free of. I might have killed him to protect those I loved, but that didn’t make his death any easier to bear. And it certainly didn’t make it right.

Given you didn’t actually kill him, I replied, you hardly need to fear her wrath.

No, but I did get rid of his body. I also failed to report your actions to her. Either of those two events would normally bring down her wrath. Together, they mean death.

I frowned. Surely Hunter is not so sure of her position that she would start killing off Cazadors?

Have you not seen the news reports? Stanford’s deep voice held an edge that spoke of frustration and anger. He was a man standing on the precipice of doom, and he was all too aware of it. Hunter begins her battle for supremacy, only she does it via stealth and murder rather than openly.

Besides, Markel added, why would you think Cazadors are any safer than high councillors?

I don’t. Hell, I didn’t even consider myself safe. Hunter was just as likely to turn around and kill me the moment she got anywhere near the key—especially if she’d figured out a way to nullify Azriel’s presence. But if you’ve called me here in the hope that Hunter’s recent action would force me to your side, then you’re out of luck. The only side I’m on right now is my own.

Your side, Stanford said, the edge stronger this time, is a losing one. You cannot defeat her alone, Risa. It will be the end of not only yourself, but all you hold dear.

But I’m not alone. Even as I said that, my stomach tightened and the bitter taste of bile rose in my throat. It was fear of what was coming, and fear that he was right. That in the end, I would be alone. That for me, there was no other choice. Not when it came to Hunter. Even so, I couldn’t help adding, I have Azriel, and I have my sword. Neither should be taken lightly.

Though I wasn’t

entirely sure whom I was trying to convince—them or me.

No, they shouldn’t, Markel agreed, his mental tones still very controlled. Maybe he didn’t have as much to lose as Stanford. Or maybe he’d simply accepted that death was a likely outcome no matter what path he took. But Hunter is a maenad and has the force of a god behind her. It gives her power beyond anything on this earth.

Azriel isn’t of this earth, I reminded them. But the bitter taste of bile was growing. I half wondered whether it was possible to throw up on the astral plane—and what would happen if I did. Because as much as I wanted to ignore what they were saying, as much as I knew they were only trying to get me to aid them, I also knew their words held an undeniable weight of truth.

Reapers can die. Demon swords can be nullified, Stanford said. It is only a matter of know-how.

Nullify them, Amaya said. Chance give.

No, I said to her, amused despite the growing sense of dread. They’re friends—of sorts. You don’t nullify friends.

She muttered something I didn’t quite catch, although it wasn’t hard to guess it was something along the lines of her being willing to make an exception.

I studied Stanford for a moment, seeing the tension in the small lines near his eyes, feeling it in the unpleasant vibration that ran through the ether around us. If Hunter is all-powerful, how do you plan to uphold your end of the deal and give me the means to negate her connection to her god?

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