“As long as you remain here, under the Brindle’s protection, while I am gone.”
“I will.”
He immediately disappeared. I took the remaining two, slipping one over my right wrist and shoving the other into a pocket to give it to Stane later. The Dušan reacted immediately to the presence of the bracelet on my wrist, slithering up my arm, across my shoulders, then down my right arm. It was a weird sensation, not unlike my skin crawling, but interspersed with needle-sharp pinpricks that were a result of the Dušan’s claws cutting into my skin—though she didn’t draw blood. As the Dušan reached the ribbon-and-stone bracelet, her tail lifted from my skin, curled around the bracelet, then returned to my flesh. The bracelet went with it, prickling and itching as it leached into my skin. After a few seconds, it was little more than a multicolored tattoo that encircled my right wrist. The Dušan then retreated to my left arm and entwined around the leafy charm Ilianna had given me earlier to protect—or at least mute—the force of any ordinary spell or geas used against me. Though Lucian—who’d placed one such geas on me—was no longer a problem, the sorceress was still out there, and who knew what kind of compulsion she might try if given half the chance.
I held out my wrist. “Is the magic still active?”
Ilianna ran a hand around my wrist, her expression thoughtful. Contemplative. “Definitely. I wonder if I can figure out how the Dušan does this. If I could, it could herald in a whole new era in spell protection.”
“And make you rich,” I said, with a grin.
She glanced up, expression cross. “I’m already rich. This is about—”
“Ilianna,” I said gently, “I was joking.”
She took a deep breath and slowly released it. “Sorry. As I said, the pregnancy is making me bitchy. Of course, it could also be the meeting we’ve planned with Carwyn tonight.”
Carwyn was the stallion whose herd Ilianna’s parents—who were unaware Ilianna was gay and already in a committed relationship with Mirri—were pushing her to join. Ilianna had been fighting against their wishes for a while now, but the truth was, mares rarely remained without a herd. They usually went from their father’s herd to their stallion’s, and quite often the match was chosen for political or monetary advantages rather than love.
“I hope he’s coming here—”
“He is,” she cut in. “I’m hoping the Brindle will make him see that I belong here, not with him.”
I frowned. “But you don’t belong here. You said that yourself, more times than I care to remember.”
“I know. It’s just—” She paused and rubbed her arms. “Ever since I came back here, it’s felt oddly right. It’s almost as if I’ve come home.”
A vague and definitely selfish sense of alarm ran through me. Things were changing—we were all changing—and no matter how much I might wish otherwise, there was no going back. Not to the way we were before my father, the Raziq, and Lucian stepped into my life, anyway. And while that might not necessarily be a bad thing, it nevertheless made me sad.
But all I said was, “Your mother was under the impression you could never return to the Brindle until Kiandra was gone.”
“She’s right—I couldn’t. At least, not until recently. Not until all this key business started. It made me realize however much I might have disagreed with what was done so long ago to maintain the safety of this place, there was a need for it.”
“And what was done?” I said softly.
Her gaze met mine. “Sacrifices. Blood sacrifices.”
I frowned. “But witches are against blood magic.”
“Yes, we are. It is the reason I swore never to return to the place while Kiandra was present. She was the instigator. She raised the magic and forever tainted the soul of this place. Or so I thought.” She took a deep breath and released it slowly, then gave me a quick, sharp smile. “Anyway, I’m hoping Carwyn will see this place, see my place in it, and make the only logical decision.”
“That being to walk away and not attempt to add you and Mirri to his herd?”
“No, because that would hurt both our families.” She shrugged. “The logical solution is to make it a joining in name only. That way, he gets the alliance he wants, and I get the protection of his brand.”
“And Mirri? What does she get out of the deal?”
“She, like me, gets the protection of his herd while still retaining her freedom. Plus, if she wants, she gets babies.” She half smiled. “She’s bisexual, remember, and me being pregnant has made her somewhat broody.”
“Then I hope Carwyn sees sense.”
“So do I,” she murmured. “So do I.”
Azriel returned. “Rhoan is not happy about wearing something so feminine,” he said, “but has agreed to do so until told otherwise. He did comment that it was more Liander’s style than his.”
I smiled. Liander would probably have painted his fingernails all the different colors of the ribbon, just for the fun of it. I gave Ilianna another hug, wished her luck, then stepped into Azriel’s arms and said, “Let’s head back to Stane’s and see if he’s had any luck with pinning the key location down.”
“It is unlikely,” he said, as we reappeared once again within the security shields protecting Stane’s place. “Not enough time has passed since we assigned him the task.”
“I know, but what else can we do?” I glanced at the camera. “Stane, it’s us again.”
“Come on up.”
The screen briefly shimmered, then died. I headed for the stairs and lightly ran up them. Stane was stationed at his bridge but glanced around as we entered the main living room. “As Azriel has already noted, even my computers can’t come up with answers that fast.”
I plopped down on one of the chairs and handed him the ribbon bracelet. “Put that on and don’t take it off.”
He raised his eyebrows, even as he did as I ordered. “What is it?”
“An early warning system against any sort of spell headed your way.”
He studied the twined ribbons, expression bemused. “Does it also protect against it?”
“Against all but the really dark stuff.”
“Then it is now a permanent feature on my wrist.”
I smiled and got back to the business at hand. “So you have nothing for us yet?”
“On the contrary, I currently have a list of over a thousand places,” he said. “Right now, I’m programming in variables using historical records and photographs in an effort to cut down the numbers.”
I blinked. “Why are you using old records and photographs?”
“Because it’s rare for modern buildings to have a coat of arms designed onto them, let alone one that’s been placed upside down or the wrong way around. And given it’s not unusual for a building to be renamed when a new business takes it over, I’m also doing a search through business registration records.”
“Good point. But I can’t justify sitting here doing nothing while the computers work. I need to be doing something.” Needed to be seen to be doing something. I very much suspected Hunter would not be pleased to hear that I was sitting around twiddling my thumbs, waiting for answers to appear on-screen.
Stane blew out a somewhat frustrated-sounding breath. “I guess there’s always a chance you could stumble on the right one.” He leaned over and flicked a list across to another screen. A second later, my phone beeped. “That’s the entire list of possibilities. I’ll continue sorting through them, so let me know if you do find the correct building.”
“I will.” I jumped to my feet, dragged out my phone, then brought up the list. The first town listed was Bairnsdale, which was one of the largest towns in the East Gippsland region. I’d only ever been there once, and that was when Ilianna and I had decided to spend a week or so exploring the Gippsland Lakes district. I glanced at Azriel. “Can you take us there?”
He nodded. “Your memory of the place is hazy, but there’s enough information for me to get us there.”
“Good.”
I glanced at Stane. “Talk to you soon.”
He nodded. Azriel whisked us out of there, and in very little time, we were standing in the shadows of Bairnsdale’s beautiful old rotunda. It was situated in the gardens that were maintained on the wide median strip that divided the two sections of Main Street. I glanced around, vaguely recognizing several of the shops, then brought up maps on my phone and plugged in the addresses of the possible key locations. More than an hour later, we’d checked out all of them, and there was nary a key in sight.
We repeated the process at the next two—much smaller—towns, with exactly the same results.
“This is next to useless.” I collapsed back onto a park seat somewhat dispiritedly.
“Yes,” Azriel said. “But you were well aware that was a possibility before we started.”
“Yeah, but I guess I was just hoping we might catch a break.” I scrubbed a hand across my eyes. “I suppose the only thing we can do is head back to the office and hope like hell Stane comes through with a smaller list of possibilities sooner rather than later.”
Although, if I was being honest, all I really wanted to do was head back to the hotel and catch some sleep. Nothing major—a week or two would do. But with Hunter’s deadline looming over our heads, I doubted I’d be able to sleep even if we could spare the time. At least if I was at the office, I could search the Net and make like I was looking even if Stane had more hope of getting a result than I ever did. At least on a computer, anyway.
Azriel didn’t say anything, but a second later, his energy surged around us, and I found myself sitting in the chair in the café’s office rather than on a park bench.
I raised an eyebrow, a grin teasing my lips. “So you really don’t need to touch me to transfer us both.”
“Of course not. As I’ve said previously, I merely prefer it.”
“You, reaper, are a lecher in the making.”
He raised an eyebrow. “If by that you mean I have a strong, sexually based desire to hold you in my arms, then yes. And I see nothing wrong with it.”
“Neither do I,” I replied mildly. “Except for the fact that until recently, you seemed quite determined to keep me at arm’s length.”
“Which was self-protection, as you well know.” He hesitated and tilted his head sideways slightly, as if listening to something. “It might interest you to know that Tao is downstairs.”
I stared at him for a minute, not quite believing I’d heard him right, then thrust up from the chair and bolted downstairs for the kitchen. I slammed through the kitchen’s double doors, saw Tao, and all but threw myself into his arms.
“You’re okay,” I murmured, as I hugged him fiercely. The heat radiating off him was as intense as a flame and had pinpricks of sweat breaking out across my body in an instant. I didn’t care. He was here, he was whole, and that was all that mattered for now. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”
“So am I,” he replied, voice cracking with emotion and weariness. His arms briefly tightened around my waist; then he pulled back.
I released him somewhat reluctantly. His face was thin, his cheeks hollowed, and his body—which had always been wolf lean—was now whip thin. It was almost as if the elemental had melted every single ounce of fat from his body, leaving only muscle, bone, and skin. “What happened? How did you get here?”
He hesitated, glancing around at the kitchen, then said, “Why don’t we take this outside?”
I waved him ahead of me, and we headed for the rear of the kitchen and the door out into the lane. The air was cool, thick with the smell of the nearby rubbish and an oncoming storm.
He swung around and crossed his arms, tension evident in the set of his shoulders. “Did I hurt Stane?”
My eyebrows rose. “Of course not,” I said, surprised. “Why would you—”
I hesitated, remembering what Stane had said about being thrown across the room, and Tao smiled grimly. “So I did attack him?”
“Not really. And you certainly didn’t hurt him.”
He swore and thrust a shaky hand through his hair. “But I so easily could have. I have no memory of leaving Stane’s, Risa. No memory of anything until I woke up in the middle of that damn forest where the thing inside me was created.”
“At least you did wake up. It hasn’t won the battle yet, Tao.”
I took a step toward him, but stopped when he retreated. He must have caught the instinctive flash of surprise and hurt that ran through me, because he grimaced and said, “Sorry, it’s just—” He stopped. “I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to hurt anyone.”
“Then why come here?” Azriel asked softly from behind me. “If you are worried about control, is not the kitchen the worst place you could be right now?”
It was a question that had echoed through me, as well, but one I’d been afraid to give voice to.
Tao didn’t immediately reply. He simply stared almost blindly at the two of us, then made an abrupt, chopping motion with his hand. “No, it’s not. It’s a compromise. A kitchen has enough heat to keep the elemental satisfied while still allowing me some degree of control.”
“The last time you were in the kitchen, the heat made you lose control,” I said, trying to keep my voice even. “I really think—”
“Then don’t think,” he snapped. “You know nothing about the thing inside of me, Risa. None of us have any idea what will or won’t work when it comes to control—or even if control is possible.”
“Which is why—”
“No,” he said, his eyes bleeding heat, with sparks of flame shooting from his fingertips. “It needs heat and I want to survive. I don’t want to hurt anyone, but I also do not want to spend the rest of my life playing solitaire in some godforsaken forest. There has to be some compromise everyone can live with.”
“I agree.” I somehow managed to keep my voice calm, despite the turmoil and fear surging through me. It wasn’t the Tao I knew and loved speaking right now. It was a desperate stranger—a fiery combination of elemental and wolf, both of whom were struggling to meld and survive. “There has to be a compromise. But until we find it, you can’t be here. You can’t jeopardize the safety of both our employees and our customers.”
He began to pace, his strides long, angry. “The only way I’m going to maintain any sense of normality is to keep doing what I’ve always done. And that means working. I have to do it, Risa. I can’t not do it.”
“And until you gain control of the elemental, I can’t let you in the kitchen.”
He stopped and stared at me. It wasn’t a pleasant stare. It was angry, alien, and filled with fire. It bled from him, filling the air with the threat of an inferno. I clenched my fists and resisted the urge to back away from him. Tao wouldn’t hurt me; I’d believed that from the very beginning and I still believed it, despite growing evidence to the contrary.
You may believe it all you want, Azriel commented. But that does not make it a truth you should entrust your life to.
Shield will, Amaya commented. Flames not touch.
That, Azriel said, mental tones little more than a growl, is not the point.
Point, Amaya growled. I protect.
I couldn’t help smiling. My sword had never been afraid to throw a little attitude around, but it surprised me that she so readily flung it at Azriel. I said, He hasn’t lost control yet.
Even if he was very obviously close.
The only safe place for him to be is the sacred site the elemental keeps going back to, Azriel said. I’ll take him there by force if I have to.
You can’t get him into the site itself. Besides, he’ll only keep coming back. We have to get him there willingly, or there will be little point. To Tao, I said, “Look at what you’re doing, Tao. Look at your skin, and try to convince me you’re in control at this moment.”
He stared at me for several minutes longer, then slowly, like a dreamer coming out of a dream, raised his hands and stared at them. After a few minutes, the flames that flickered and dan
ced across his fingertips began to die, and the inferno threatening the air eased. He closed his eyes and swore softly.
“I’m sorry. I just thought—”
I closed the gap between us and touched his arm. His eyes opened, the brown depths filled with desperation and the ever-lurking threat of flame. “I understand what you’re trying to do, but you can’t do it here. It’s simply too dangerous.”
“Everywhere is too dangerous,” he said bitterly. “Maybe it would be better for everyone if I simply killed myself.”
“No!” It came out panicked. My grip on his arm tightened, and I shook him, violently. “Don’t you dare give up on me. You can win this battle, Tao. I believe that with all my heart.”
“Then you would be the only one.” His gaze moved past me. “Even the reaper believes otherwise.”
“You fate is in your own hands,” Azriel commented. “Live or die, the choice is yours.”
Tao snorted. “Live or die as what is the question, though, isn’t it?”
Azriel shrugged, something I felt rather than saw. “The fates have no answer in that regard. The decision, as ever, comes down to your own actions.”
The fates have a great way of passing the buck, I commented, somewhat sourly.
It is hardly “passing the buck,” as you say, to let a person’s fate ultimately reside in his own hands. There was a hint of censure in his voice. They can and do plan a common course for all, but it is neither practical nor logical to expect all of creation to follow such guidelines rigidly. Especially when humankind have a habit of doing the unexpected.
A trait that doesn’t belong to only humans, I reminded him. Or was it in the fates’ grander scheme of things for you to ignore every reaper rule in existence to hunt down your friend’s killer?
Perhaps not, but once I became a Mijai, I have no doubt this is what they intended.
I’m betting they didn’t intend you and I to get together.
On that aspect, they are playing their cards very close to their chest. They have never said much about you and I, and they still don’t.