“I would not be so sure of that.”

Actually, I wasn’t. My father had shown a decided lack of parental care up until this point, and I had no doubt that lack would continue.

“Ready to go?” Azriel added.

I took another of those deep, steadying breaths that really didn’t help all that much, then nodded. He touched a hand to my back again and guided me toward the front door, his fingers spearing warmth into my spine despite the thickness of my sweater.

A deeper, more resonant energy swirled as we entered the building—Azriel, touching the receptionist’s mind to alter her perception.

So what will she see us as?

Police, as you wished.

Good. There were no cameras in this particular area, so the lie wouldn’t immediately be uncovered.

The receptionist gave us a cheerful smile. “And what can I do for you both on this rather chilly autumn morning?”

“I’m afraid we’re here on official business.” Azriel stopped in front of the desk and gave her a warm smile.

Her smile grew. So much for him not flirting. “And what business would that be?”

“We need to know if there’s a Genevieve Sands renting a storage unit here.”

“Just a moment, and I’ll check.” She glanced down at her computer, quickly typing, then said, “Yes, she is. It’s one of the larger ground-floor units.”

“Would we be able to look at it?”

She frowned. “I’m afraid I can’t let you in without a search warrant—”

“That’s okay,” I said, noting with amusement—and perhaps a touch of annoyance—that she barely even glanced at me. “We just want to inspect its location for the moment.”

“I can’t see the harm in that.” She half shrugged. “It’s unit G-18. I’ll buzz you through the security door; then follow the corridor down and around to your right.”

“Thanks, Maggie.” Azriel gave her the sort of smile that would have melted the iciest heart. This poor woman had no hope whatsoever, and practically puddled on the seat. “It’s appreciated.”

“You’re very welcome,” she all but stammered.

Amusement glittered in Azriel’s bright eyes as he turned away. I followed, knowing I probably could have danced around naked and she wouldn’t have even noticed. I shook my head in amusement. You, reaper, are incorrigible.

He glanced at me, one eyebrow raised, and the laughter I’d caught earlier was now richer in the depths of his eyes. And why would you say that?

Because every time you have to cloud the mind of a pretty woman, you flirt.

On the contrary, I am merely polite.

I snorted softly. Polite doesn’t come in the form of a high-wattage, sexy-as-hell smile.

His amusement deepened, and it shimmered inside me, warm and enticing. So you think my smile is sexy?

I rolled my eyes and nudged him with my shoulder. Fishing for compliments, are we?

No. I merely ask a logical question. The security door buzzed as we neared it. He caught it with his fingertips, opening it and then ushering me through. It is the resonance of energy that attracts reapers rather than anything as fleeting as an expression.

I followed the receptionist’s directions, making a mental note of the regularly spaced security cameras, then glanced at him with raised eyebrows and said, Does that mean you don’t think my physical form is attractive?

Who is fishing for compliments now?

I grinned. Hey, it’s not like you throw them around with great abandon.

No, he agreed, and touched my back again, his palm still light against my spine yet somehow oddly possessive. Or maybe that was merely wishful thinking on my behalf. And yes, I find your physical form attractive. But it is the being within that flesh, the timbre and music of all that you are, that is the most dangerous to someone like me.

Because of the threat of assimilation. It was a sobering reminder of the risk we were taking, and I had to wonder whether it was actually worth it.

But how could I be around him and not want him? That seemed as impossible to me now as it would be to stop breathing.

“Indeed,” he agreed softly. Almost grimly. Then he motioned with his free hand. “The locker we seek is just ahead.”

I slowed as we neared it. It looked like every other unit in this area in that it was fronted by a double-sized roller door that was padlocked at either edge. I’m not sure why I’d been expecting something else—but maybe it was simply the fact that Nadler didn’t seem to do anything that could be considered ordinary.

Of course, Genevieve Sands might not be connected to him in any way—but I seriously doubted that was the case.

“There is magic here.”

Azriel stopped in front of the unit and crossed his arms. His expression gave little away, but blue fire flickered down the sides of his sword, radiating an energy that was oddly tense. Valdis—the name of the demon trapped within the sword, giving the steel a life and energy of its own—was as ready for action as her master.

I had a similar sword strapped to my back, but Amaya was shadow-wreathed and invisible. The only time anyone was truly aware of her presence was when I slid her dark blade into their flesh—although she did have a tendency to scream for bloodshed, and generally at the most inappropriate times.

“But what sort of magic? Good or bad?” I stopped beside him and eyed the roller door dubiously. I couldn’t feel anything, but then, I wasn’t always sensitive to magic.

“Neither. In fact, it is almost Aedh-like in construction.”

I frowned. “The only Aedh we know who play around with magic are the Raziq, and I seriously doubt they’d be involved on any level with Nadler.”

“There is Lucian.”

I frowned. “Yeah, but he isn’t capable of magic.”

“That we know of.”

True. But surely to god he wasn’t linked to Nadler. Surely to god I hadn’t been that gullible.

Azriel, perhaps wisely, made no comment about that particular thought.

I studied the innocuous-looking door for several seconds, then carefully raised a hand. As my fingertips neared the metal, energy began to flow across them. As Azriel had said, it didn’t feel evil or dark, just wrong. It was also oddly similar to the magic in the circle of stones that had formed a protective barrier around the gateway Jak—my ex, and a reporter who was helping us—and I had discovered underground when we’d been searching for Nadler’s base of operations in West Street. And that certainly suggested I’d been right in suspecting a link between Genevieve Sands and Nadler himself. According to Ilianna—who wasn’t only my best friend but an extremely powerful witch—every spell was as individual as the person creating it. Two spells having the same sort of feel could only mean the same person was behind both.

“We need to get in there,” I said. “We need to uncover what they might be hiding.”

“I do not think that would be a wise move.”

I frowned. “Why?”

“For one, the magic involved prevents me from entering, and two, I would think crossing the threshold would notify Sands, or Nadler, or whoever else might be the true owner of this container.”

My frown deepened. “So is the spell reaper specific, or is it more generally aimed at energy beings?” Because if it were the latter, it would also prevent me from entering.

He hesitated, and his energy slithered around me as he carefully tested the boundaries of the magic. “Reaper specific, by the feel of it.”

“Meaning whoever is behind this is more than a little familiar with your presence?”

“Yes.” He glanced at me. “Lucian.”

“You can’t blame him for every bit of evil we come across just because you don’t like or trust him,” I said, irritated.

“He is Aedh, he was your father’s chrání, he spelled you, and he is sexually involved with a dark sorceress. Why would he not be a suspect?”

Chrání was the Aedh word for a student or protégé, and it meant that even if Lucian hadn’t been involved with the making of the keys, he most certainly knew a whole lot more about them than he’d ever let on. And while he’d been using me to keep track of everything we did to locate the keys—had, in fact, placed a geas on me that had made it next to impossible for me to resist him sexually, which was important given he could read my mind only during sex—my father had been keeping track of him through me. Blood called to blood, and that apparently meant he not only knew where I was at any given time, but he could read my thoughts from a distance.

“Look, I’m not denying he’s involved. I just don’t think he’s responsible for this.” I waved a hand at the door and, as I did so, my fingers brushed the unseen magic. Light danced across them, warm and almost welcoming. Which was decidedly odd. “It seems to react to touch, too.”

“That is only logical. If whoever owns this had been hiding the real Nadler’s body in a freezer within, then he or she would not wish to risk anyone breaking in.”

“So why not ward against Aedh as well?”

“I do not know.”

Neither did I, and it piqued my interest. “I’ve got to get in there. This could be the break we’ve been looking for.”

“I do not think—”

“I know,” I cut in. “And I’m going to try regardless.”

Irritation swirled down the link between us, thick and sharp. I might not be able to catch his thoughts and feelings unless he wished it, but every now and again emotion got the better of his control. And while that could be a dual-edged sword—especially when it generally happened only when he was really angry over something I’d said or done—I wasn’t about to wish it away. I actually liked getting glimpses of what was going on in my generally stoic reaper’s mind.

I glanced toward the end of the hallway and studied the security camera. If I was going to get into the storage locker, I’d have to do it in Aedh form—and the last thing I needed was the transformation being caught on tape. “Can you do something about those things?”