Only trouble was, the pain of Jak’s death was still so raw I might end up saying something I’d ultimately regret.
“Then ignore it,” Azriel said, ever practical.
“If I do, he’s more than likely to order me arrested.”
He frowned. “Why would he do that?”
“Because I’m betting he wants answers about Jak’s murder and why Hunter would want him dead.”
And how could I explain any of that without stepping into territory that could ultimately lead him into danger? Because Hunter would kill him if she thought it necessary to both keep her secrets and me on the leash.
I took a deep, somewhat quivery breath, then reached for the phone and hit the vid-screen’s Answer button. Rhoan appeared. To say his expression was thunderous was something of an understatement.
“What the fuck is going on, Risa?” he all but exploded. “Why the hell would Madeline Hunter want Jak Talbott dead?”
I was tempted to tell him that was a question he should ask the lady herself, but I didn’t actually want him anywhere near the bitch. Not when she was so intent on teaching me a lesson. I licked my lips and said, “I don’t know —”
“Don’t give me that shit.” A dangerous light glittered in his gray eyes. “You know exactly why she ordered the hit, and I’m guessing you knew it even before you put a sword through the back of the assassin. Tell me what the fuck is going on, or I’m going to haul your ass into the Directorate and make the investigation official.”
Part of me wanted to snarl some smart remark right back at him; the other, more sensible part just wanted to run. The last thing I wanted was a confrontation with Uncle Rhoan, but I guess it was always bound to happen. As I kept fucking noting, it wasn’t like fate had shown any propensity to give me a break.
Which meant I had only one choice.
Honesty.
I swore internally and scrubbed my free hand across my eyes. “Do that,” I said, my voice holding an edge I couldn’t quite prevent, “and you might well kill everyone we both care about.”
His expression didn’t change. If anything, it got more dangerous. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Look, we can’t do this over the phone. Meet me at the café.” I hesitated, then added, “Come alone, and don’t tell anyone else you’re doing it. Not even Aunt Riley.”
“I’ll be there in ten minutes. Don’t fuck me around on this, Risa. I’m warning you.”
“I won’t.”
He hung up and I threw the phone back into my bag for a second time.
What of your astral watchers? Azriel said. If Markel is on duty, you will – most likely – be safe against the possibility of the meeting being reported to Hunter. It is doubtful that the others would be so recalcitrant, given what Markel has said about them. And Hunter’s reaction will be swift and deadly.
I know. Just as I knew that if I wanted to stop my astral watcher from reporting back, there was only one way I was going to do it.
But could I take that step?
Could I take the life of someone who was doing nothing more than their duty?
Soldiers throughout history have lost their lives doing nothing more than their duty, Azriel commented. It is the way of war, be it waged on the fields or here on Earth.
Yeah, but this isn’t a war.
That’s where you’re very wrong. This is a war, and perhaps the only one that has ever mattered. You’re not only fighting for the lives of your friends, but for the souls of mankind and the existence of two – very different – worlds.
I knew all that. But I’d been hoping – perhaps naively – to survive this whole mess with as little blood on my hands as possible. I sighed. Let’s just hope it’s Markel following me, then.
You would need to be sure before you meet your uncle.
Yes. But we have ten minutes. More than enough time to step onto the astral plane.
More than enough time to take a life.
Ignoring the horror that spun through me at the thought, I lay down on the bed and closed my eyes. Several seconds later, I stepped onto the astral plane.
It wasn’t Markel who watched me.
This vampire was short and thickset, with steel gray hair, swarthy features, and dead black eyes. His gaze, when it met mine, showed neither interest nor surprise, but rather the natural wariness of a warrior who has seen many battles.
My stomach began to churn. I didn’t want to do this. I didn’t want to take this vampire’s life and make him a ghost, with no future to look forward to. But I had no choice. I had to protect my friends and family – and Rhoan and Riley were the only family I had left. Hunter wasn’t going to take them from me. I wouldn’t let her.
Amaya, I said, imagining her shadowed in my hand. Get ready. And for god’s sake keep quiet.
Her weight appeared in my hand, but her blade was hidden, at one with the shadows that surrounded us.
If the vampire sensed the surge of energy that had briefly accompanied her shift in position, he showed no sign of it.
He raised his eyebrows. Why do you travel the fields?
I need to question a ghost.
What ghost? Jak? Is that what Rhoan Jenson asked you to do?
So he’d been close enough to hear at least some of our conversation – and it was enough to place Rhoan’s life on the line if it was passed on to Hunter. The churning in my gut got stronger, and I briefly wondered if it were possible to be physically ill on the astral plane.
What other ghost would he be interested in? I said, striding forward. Not directly toward him, but off to one side.
Even so, his stance shifted and his eyes narrowed. He sensed something was off, even if he wasn’t sure what. And does this sudden desire to question a ghost have anything to do with Jenson suspecting Madeline Hunter’s involvement in the death?
Fuck, fuck, fuck! He’d heard entirely too much and I really had no choice now. I didn’t know when Markel was back on watch duty, and I simply couldn’t risk this vampire reporting what he’d heard to Hunter.
My grip tightened on Amaya. Her excitement burned through my mind, thick and hungry. I was almost within killing distance. A few more steps, and his life would be mine. His soul Amaya’s. I wanted to run. Wanted to hide. Wanted to throw up so badly the bitter taste of bile stung the back of my throat.
I did none of those things. Just kept one foot moving in front of the other. I need to find out what Jak might have done to annoy Hunter.
He did nothing, and you know it. His gaze swept me. What is this truly about?
This is about saving lives. Nothing more, nothing less.
And with that, I stabbed Amaya into the heart of him. Her flames exploded in and around him, capturing him, consuming him. It was murder, nothing less, and it sickened me to the core.
I’m sorry, I whispered mentally. So, so sorry. But I have to protect the people I love.
He opened his mouth; no sound came out. But his eyes burned, damning me, and my cheeks were wet, though I had no idea if tears were even possible here. The plane around me grew dark and heavy, bearing down on me, as if the weight of this death was something I would carry for the rest of eternity.
And I would. I knew I would.
Amaya continued to devour the vampire, until there was nothing left of him. Not even ash.
I closed my eyes and imagined myself back in my body. The minute I was, I rolled onto my side and was violently, completely ill.
The bed dipped. Azriel didn’t say anything, didn’t do anything, just sat behind me and placed a hand on my shoulder. He didn’t need to do anything else. His presence and his touch was enough.
“I am sorry you were forced to do this.” His voice was filled with compassion and understanding. “I would have, if I could have.”
“I know.” I pushed upright and leaned back against him.
He wrapped his arms around my waist and brushed a kiss across the top of my head. “We’d better get moving. It would not be wise to be late.”
“I know,” I repeated. “Just let me clean up.”
“Ris, it can wait.”
“You’ve obviously never had the taste of vomit in your mouth.” I forced myself away from him, climbed off the bed, and headed for the bathroom. For several minutes I did nothing more than scrub my hands, trying to remove blood that didn’t actually exist. Blood that had drained into my soul and become a weight I’d never be free of. I swallowed heavily, then grabbed my toothbrush. After brushing my teeth and rinsing my mouth, I cleaned up the vomit, then tossed the towels down the rubbish chute rather than the laundry one. The last thing anyone would want was my vomit rolling around with their clothes. Although given the state of the living room and kitchen, washing clothes would be the last thing on anyone’s mind, even if they didn’t have bigger problems right now.
“Right,” I said, returning to Azriel’s side. He’d resumed his regular position near the window. “We’d better go meet Uncle Rhoan.”
He turned to face me. His expression was back to its usual noncommittal self but the compassion lingered in his eyes. “How do you wish to handle this?”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I could touch his memories, make him forget. Would that not make things easier?”
“In some ways yes, in other ways no.” I grimaced. “Uncle Rhoan is basically a psychic dead zone. He can’t be touched telepathically. It’s what has made him such a fantastic guardian.”
“While there are some minds I cannot read, Rhoan Jenson is not one of them. I could —”
“No,” I cut in. “It wouldn’t be fair, and it wouldn’t be right. Rhoan deserves more out of me than that.”
“He does. But it nevertheless is a dangerous path to tread given Hunter’s murderous bent.”
“I know.” I stepped into Azriel’s arms. “Let’s get this over with.”
We reappeared in the upstairs office area of the café. The room was dark and smelled faintly of tobacco. I frowned, then vaguely remembered Ilianna’s mentioning that she’d asked our accountant, Mike, to find someone to come in and do the business activity statement and salaries. I’d had no time lately and Margie, our new manager, had enough on her plate just keeping the café running smoothly.
