“God,” I muttered, “the bastard is dead and he’s still causing us problems.”

“And will no doubt continue to do so until both sorcerers are dealt with.”

Dealt with – the polite way of saying dead. Not that I was, in any way, doubting the necessity of it.

I sighed and walked back to Azriel. “You’ll let us know if you find anything useful,” I said to Stane.

He nodded. “I’ll also check if the autopsy results are ready on the body parts found in the locker. If it was Genevieve Sands, then at least it basically confirms the shifter theory.”

Because it wasn’t Genevieve who’d walked back into that building just before the blast, but a shifter wearing my face. And it was a wonder the police hadn’t contacted me about the events – unless, of course, Uncle Rhoan was running interference with them.

“Draw your sword,” Azriel said, as he caught my hand and tugged me toward him. Valdis was already in his free hand.

“Why?”

“Because she might have more guards waiting in this place.”

I drew Amaya. A high-pitched humming began to flow across the outer reaches of my thoughts as she happily anticipated devouring more shag-pile demons. She really was a bloodthirsty little person.

Not person. Demon. Better.

I grinned as Azriel whisked us across the fields. He released my hand as we re-formed in the middle of a bright and airy hallway, his gaze watchful and blue fire running down Valdis’s steel sides.

The place was silent. The air held an oddly smoky, somehow electrical scent that reminded me of the smell in air just before a thunderstorm, but there was nothing to suggest there was anything or anyone else in this place but the two of us.

“There’s not.” Azriel sheathed Valdis. “Not even her resonance lingers.”

“Something does.” I held on to Amaya and swung around. “It smells like magic.”

“It is, though it does not feel recent or primed to attack.”

“Why would she set a trap in one home, and not the other?” I cautiously walked into the first room off the hallway, my footsteps echoing on the polished floorboards. The double bed had been stripped of linen, and the drawers from the bedside tables had been thrown on top of the mattress, suggesting someone had emptied them in haste. I walked across to the wardrobe and used Amaya’s tip to open the door. It too was empty.

The rest of the house provided a similar story – beds and wardrobes stripped, rooms empty of everything other than large pieces of furniture. Genevieve Sands had taken everything that might have provided us with some sort of clue as to who she really was or where she might now be found.

The sudden urge to scream rolled up my throat, and I had to bite down on my lip to stop it. I sheathed Amaya and walked through the kitchen-diner, heading for the windows that lined the rear of the house. The small garden was immaculately tended and very pretty, filled with roses and other flowering plants. There was no sign of a cuneiform stone, however. Not even a bare spot in the garden to mark where one had once stood. I sighed and rubbed my forehead wearily.

“Another dead end. Just what we needed right now.”

“That is not entirely true,” Azriel said.

I swung around. He was squatting in front of one of the kitchen cabinets, and held up what looked like a torn edge of paper. “It was caught at the back of this cabinet. Obviously, whoever emptied the drawers did so in haste, and did not notice it.”

I walked across. “Does it say anything useful?”

He smiled, though it failed to reach his eyes. “There is some sort of symbol resembling a stylized whirlpool and, underneath, a word that is incomplete because of the tear – Pénom.”

“That has to be Pénombre Manufacturing. It can’t be anything else.” Not in this instance, surely. And that meant we’d finally caught a break, even if only a small one.

“I wouldn’t think so.” Azriel pushed upright. “It also gives us our next target – that warehouse you and Jak discovered.”

I frowned. “But there’s nothing there.”

“There will be something there, but it is possible it can only be accessed via magical means.”

“Which doesn’t do us much fucking good, given neither of us is capable of magic.”

“No, but it is still worth checking. Magic lingers here, which suggests its use was recent. If she did not use it to set a trap, what, then, did she do?”

“I have no idea.” I flared my nostrils and drew in the electric scent again. There was an odd sense of energy and movement in its undertones and I frowned. “Maybe it was some sort of transport spell.”

“Which is why we should check that warehouse. Perhaps the only way to reach whatever secrets that place holds is via the use of such a spell.”

“Which still isn’t going to help us.”

“No, but if the scent lingers there as it does here, then perhaps we could uncover her den via more practical means.”

He held out a hand, and in a matter of seconds we were inside the empty warehouse. It was pitch black and the air still and cold. Moonlight filtered in through the grimy windows, but its cool light did little more than puddle around the area immediately underneath them. I stepped away from Azriel and drew in the scents. Magic lingered, as he’d predicted.

He drew Valdis. Flames burned down her sides, casting a bright light around us but throwing deeper shadows beyond it. “Where?”

I glanced at him. “You can’t sense it?”

“I can, but its feel is too faint to pinpoint.” He half shrugged. “In this case, the nose of a werewolf is infinitely more capable of tracking than a Mijai untrained in magic.”

“Half wolf,” I corrected, and slowly turned, trying to define from which direction the scent was the strongest.

“But full wolf where it counts.”

I raised my eyebrows and shot him a glance. “Oh yeah? And just where would that be, reaper?”

“Your senses,” he replied, voice bland but amusement dancing in his eyes. “What else would I have meant?”

“What else indeed.” Smiling, I returned my attention to the scent. It seemed to be the strongest from the area near the stairs that led up to the next floor.

I walked across, and cast around to see if I could pinpoint a particular area the scent seemed to be coming from. After a moment, I ducked under the metal steps and bent down. The concrete here was smooth and unmarked. There was absolutely nothing that would indicate anything lay underneath it.

“There wouldn’t be, given magic is used to enter and exit.” Azriel squatted beside me and rested Valdis on the concrete.

“Becoming Aedh would be pointless, because I can’t move through solid objects. What about you?”

He shook his head. “I need a point of reference to transfer anywhere here, be it a soul or an image. Up until now, I’ve basically been accessing your memories or knowledge, but you have not been into whatever lies below so I do not have the required information.”

I swore softly. “If we break in, she’s going to know we’re onto her.”

“She’s well aware of that already. She would not have retreated otherwise.”

“Yeah, but neither she nor the other sorcerer is aware that we know about this place.”

“True.” Sparks flew from Valdis’s tip, hitting the concrete with sharp little hisses. An echo of her master’s frustration, perhaps. “We have two choices – breach the concrete, or turn around and walk away.”

“We haven’t got time to walk away.” Or rather, Mirri didn’t. I drew Amaya, then added, “Go for it.”

At my words, flames flared from Valdis’s tip, then split and raced left and right, until they’d formed a two-foot-wide circle. Gray smoke began to billow, the concrete dust teasing my nose and catching in my throat, making me cough. Deeper and deeper the flames bored into the concrete, until suddenly they were through and the concrete ring dropped into a deeper darkness. The flames clung to its side, providing us shadowed glimpses of what lay below.

And what lay below were more fucking hellhounds.

Chapter 7

“You know,” I said as the hounds stared up at us, their red eyes glowing with malevolence and their thick bodies little more than shadowed outlines in the fading glow of Valdis’s flames, “I’m getting a little sick of being attacked by hell’s creatures every time we take a step forward on this damn quest.”

“It is the price we pay for tracking a dark sorceress. Stay here —”

I snorted. “Like fuck —”

“Risa,” he said, cutting me off with a fierceness that surprised me. “There is no need for you to place yourself in danger. Not in this case. For once let me do what I was sent here to do without argument.”

Let me take care of you. Please. He didn’t say the words out loud, but they echoed through me nonetheless. I met his gaze, saw the annoyance and the caring there, and reached out, cupping his cheek lightly as I leaned forward and kissed him. “Just this once,” I murmured.

“Thank you.” His voice was dry but amusement tugged at his warm lips. “So generous of you.”

And with that, he jumped into the hole, Valdis aflame and spitting in fury. I watched, heart in my mouth, as the hellhounds attacked and he briefly disappeared under the force of their onslaught. He emerged seconds later, Valdis a blur as he hacked right and left, dispatching the hounds with quick efficiency. When the last of them was dead, he looked up, his blue eyes glowing as fiercely as the sword in his hand.

“Now you may come down.”

I sheathed Amaya, then gripped the edges of the hole and carefully lowered myself into the darkness. It seemed an awful long way down to the bottom, even at full arm’s length.

“I’ll catch you.” He sheathed his sword, though her brightness still provided enough light to see by.

“You’d better, or I’ll be pissed.”