Fury, fear, and frustration swirled through me, and I clenched my fists. Uselessly, because there was nothing and no one here to hit. “Damn it, how the hell am I supposed to stop a reaper? I’m only human—”
“You were never human. You are a creation of my flesh, and that well runs deeper than you realize.” He paused, and the energy in the cylinder became so electric the hairs on my arms stood on end. “Do what I say, Risa, or face the consequences.”
And with that, the white light died and I found myself blinking furiously against tears as I stared at Azriel.
“What happened?” he asked, concern in his voice.
I brushed away the solitary droplet that trickled down my cheek. “You weren’t following events through the chi connection?”
“No, the ward severed the connection.”
I guess that was no surprise—my father was more than aware of Azriel’s presence in my life. “He gave me the clues to find the second key, and then gave me a fucking horrible choice.”
Azriel studied me for a moment, his expression giving little away, then placed Valdis on the floor and rose in one smooth movement. He disappeared into the kitchen, but was back within minutes, a large glass of bourbon and Coke in one hand. “Drink this, then tell me.”
I half smiled. “With the amount of booze I can smell in this glass, I’d normally think you were trying to get me drunk.”
“You’re a werewolf—is that not impossible?”
“Oh, I can get drunk. It just takes a hell of a lot of time and booze, and it usually doesn’t last long enough to make the effort worthwhile.” I took several large gulps and felt the burn of the bourbon all the way down to my belly.
“What happened?” Azriel said softly.
I briefly closed my eyes. “How sure are you that the keys can be destroyed?”
“As sure as we can be. The keys are not part of all creation, as the portals are, so therefore we should be able to destroy them without overwhelming effects to our worlds.”
“My father says otherwise.”
“It would be in your father’s best interest to have you believe so.” But a frown marred his usually calm expression.
“He says the keys were created in blood, and that blood now links them to the fabric of the gates. If we destroy the keys, we risk destroying the gates.”
“I do not think that is possible.”
“But you don’t know for sure?”
p> "><font size="-1" face="Palatino LT Std">“No, but there are those who will.” He hesitated, his gaze capturing mine. “That is not all, is it?”<
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He knew it wasn’t. I gulped down more alcohol, and swallowed the subsequent burp. “If I let you take the remaining keys, he will kill Ilianna and Tao.”
He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. I could read his thoughts as clearly as if they were mine. Anger surged, so fierce and bright that Valdis’s flames flared in reaction.
“They will not be casualties in this cause, Azriel. I’d rather give the keys to my father than let either of them die.”
“The fate of our worlds rests—”
“I don’t fucking care!” My grip on the glass tightened. How it remained intact I have no idea. “This isn’t negotiable, Azriel. If what my father says is true, then you won’t be getting the keys. End of story.”
Red flickered through the tips of Valdis’s flames. It was an indication of her master’s emotions—emotions he was otherwise very carefully controlling.
“Then I had better check the legitimacy of his comments as quickly as possible,” was all he said.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “You’d better. And while you’re at it, ask what can be done if the keys can’t be destroyed.”
“If they cannot be destroyed, we are all in trouble. Neither the Raziq nor your father will rest until they possess them.” He eyed me critically. “Ilianna’s and Tao’s fates hang in the balance no matter what option you choose, Risa.”
I knew that. I’d always known that.
But it didn’t alter the fact that I wasn’t willingly going to do anything that would place them in the direct path of either my father or the Raziq.
Azriel sighed. It was a frustrated sound. “What is the clue?”
I repeated what my father had said, and he frowned. “That does not tell us much.”
“Which is exactly what I said. And he basically said ‘tough.’”
My phone rang, the ringtone telling me it was Rhoan. I dug it out of my pocket and hit the vid-answer button. No picture came up, which was odd, but maybe he didn’t want me to see what was going on around him.
“Uncle Rhoan,” I said. “Please tell me you’ve caught the bastard.”
“Indeed I have,” a familiar voice said. “He’s currently tied up tighter than a turkey at Christmas.”
Ice entered my body.
It wasn’t Rhoan on the other end of the phone.
It was Zane Taylor, my faceless hunter.
Chapter 13
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For too many minutes I couldn’t speak. All I could think was, He can’t be dead. Please, God, don’t let him be dead.
“What the hell have you done to him?” It came out a hoarse whisper, because my throat was locked tight with fear.
“Nothing that will kill him just yet.”
I closed my eyes in relief, but it didn’t last long. Not when the madman at the other end of the phone had Rhoan’s life in his hands—and no doubt wanted mine.
“How did you even know—” I stopped, suddenly realizing the answer to my question before I’d asked it. “The cameras at the warehouse. You deliberately revealed yourselves so that we could find you.”
“Yes,” he said. “I had worried that the Directorate might catch on to our little trap, but, as usual, I overestimated them.”
Because no one in his right mind would expect a suspect to deliberately parade about in front of security cameras. But then, Taylor and sanity weren’t exactly chummy.
“Rhoan isn’t the one you were hunting, so why are you even bothering to keep him captive?” My voice shook as I spoke, and I took a slow, deep breath in an attempt to remain calm. Clearheaded thinking was what this situation needed, not panic, not fear—even if there was plenty of both.
“He and I were playing this game before you came onto the scene, and would no doubt have arrived at this situation sooner or later.” He paused, and I could almost feel the satisfaction oozing from his pores, even though the screen was blank and he was nowhere near me. “As to why he is still alive, that’s simple. I believe he might be a much better lure to capture you than anything else I could have come up with.”
He had that right. God, if anything happened to Rhoan, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself—let alone face Aunt Riley. He might be a guardian, and this might not be my fault but rather a danger Rhoan willingly faced every day, but that still didn’t alter one fact. I was involved, and I’d bear the brunt of guilt if he was hurt. Or worse, killed.
Oh please, don’t let it be worse.
I took another deep breath that did nothing to ease the queasiness threatening to overwhelm me, then said, “So what do you want?”
“Why, dear huntress, you, of course.”
I closed my eyes. Even though I’d expected the answer, the thought of willingly walking into this man’s trap horrified me. “Why? I’m not one of your so-called aberrations you’re destined to destroy. Why hunt me, when your calling gives you so many other options?”
“Good question.” There was an edge in his voice that spoke of amusement. This bastard was sick. Sick, sick, sick . . . I thrust the mental chant away. That way lies madness. He continued. “The simple answer is boredom. That is why I originally started playing my game with the Directorate. In a life as long as mine, a challenge is sometimes needed.”