'Was he telling the truth?'
'So far as he believes it, yes, though he didn't precisely say he knew where she was, either. It could all be one of his games. He's sworn not to harm me, but there's nothing to prevent him from twisting the knife on my misfortunes to make them as painful as possible. That would count as amusement as far as he's concerned.'
'Even bound by his vow, he's dangerous.'
'I know, but if Raffmir wanted to harm me he could have sent Deefnir instead. I was vulnerable enough, lying on my back in the shingle. No, he's up to something.'
'Like what?'
'I've no idea, but whatever he's offering me, he is going to want something at least equivalent in return.'
'A favour in return for the life of your daughter would be a big one, I think. Be careful, Niall. It would please Raffmir greatly to make you choose between your duty as a Warder and your daughter.'
'That crossed my mind, too. Then there's the baby. He swore an oath not to cause harm to you or to Alex, but he didn't know about our son. That may be the entire reason they're here.'
'We're ready for them. We have some surprises laid on for them if they come.'
'I'll tell Garvin where you are, next time I check in. Maybe he can release someone to keep an eye out for you.'
'Just make sure they don't walk in on us unexpectedly or they might get a welcome they'll never forget.'
'I'll tell him. Look after yourselves. Try and get some sleep.'
'We're taking turns. It could be a long night.'
'For me too. Take care.'
'Bye.'
The mirror cleared as the connection faded, leaving condensation dribbling down the glass. Wiping it with my hand only spread the water around. I went into the bathroom and returned with a hand towel to polish the water away. Even afterwards my handprint still showed faintly as the glass slowly warmed.
I wished now I'd said more than 'take care'. What if something happened to her? What if those were the last words I ever spoke to her? We had been living together since October and I still hadn't figured her out. Sometimes we were so close you couldn't get a sheet of paper between us, while at other times she was distant. I had been trying to puzzle out where I stood for nine months, with little progress.
She'd told me first off that the Feyre didn't marry and that it was up to the females to choose a partner. I had no fundamental objection to that but it left me wondering what there was between us and why she needed me. She was fiercely protective of her independence, to the point where it seemed as if there wasn't room for me in her life at all, but then she could be so possessive that it left me feeling claustrophobic.
Of course, the baby had number one place in her heart, and given how long she had waited for a child, that was no surprise. I knew what that felt like, having a daughter of my own, and there was no resentment. It was just that sometimes I wondered whether second place was really where I was. I caught myself in a sigh and turned it into a shrug.
Maybe I would never understand her.
I slipped into my charcoal jacket. I could conceal myself with glamour, but the dark grey would stand out less in the dark, providing less contrast than a hard black and leaving me free to concentrate my power on other things. I gathered my wallet and keys and left the loose change on the side table so that it wouldn't chink in my pocket. I picked up the small black torch from my bag and sheathed and belted my sword. I jumped up and down twice, testing for rattles. The soft shuffle as my clothes settled and the gentle thump of the sword against my thigh were the only sounds that might give me away. It would do.
Nevertheless, I wrapped a strong concealment around me as I left the room. The fire escape would allow me to leave without using the front door. I nudged it open gently and then let it close quietly behind me. If Raffmir was watching my comings and goings then he couldn't watch the front and the back at once. By using the rear stairway, I could make it harder for him to observe me, assuming I wasn't just being paranoid.
The fire escape led down to a concrete backyard arrayed with wheelie bins and an old stove. This backed on to the yard of another guest house on the next road along. It was easy enough to clamber the wall and exit from there, keeping to the shadows and not showing myself till I was well away from the guest house. I made my way up the hill to St Andrew's church. There were no cars at this time of night, just the faint echoes of the sea on the hush of the breeze. A gull's call broke noisily into the night in a squabble for roosting space and then subsided.
The east window was dark and the door was locked. Greg had said he kept the church locked to prevent theft and vandalism. He hadn't said whether the church was alarmed or not. I scouted round the building. There were two other doors, one tucked behind the church at the west tower and another vestry door on the far side from the main door, but no sign of an external alarm box. Those windows that could be opened looked as if they hadn't been touched in years and were too far off the ground to access without a ladder. I circled back to the main door. If any of the doors were alarmed then the likelihood was that they all were, and at least I knew that this one gave me access to the photos and personal items of the girls who were missing. With those, I could use my power to discover whether the girls were really missing or had simply chosen not to stay in Ravensby.
Merging with the shadows in the porch, I surveyed the black oak door. I had seen Blackbird open locked doors like this a number of times but I had never done it myself. While I knew it could be done, I had never had call for such skills over the past months. I had been immersed in the regime of Garvin's training. I had once asked Garvin when he would start training me to use my power.
'Do you feel confident and competent with a sword?' he had asked.
I had shaken my head while he smiled his quiet smile.
'Knowing your limits is part of your training. I'll teach you the subtlety and flexibility of power when you can handle something simple, like a sword.'
I had accepted his answer with good grace, seeing the sense in his words, but I wished now that I had made better progress so I would have some idea what I was doing. I guess I would just have to improvise.
I felt inside and connected to the core of power within me. A dark tendril wormed its way out of the cold bright core at the centre of my being. Not for the first time, I wondered what it was that I connected with. Was it a creature? When Blackbird called me back to life on the London Underground last year, had she conjured some creature to live within me like a parasite? Was I simply its host? If I summoned gallowfyre it was like releasing a tentacled creature of dark shadows. Was that what lived inside me? It would suck the life energy of anything within reach unless I constrained it, and feed me with the life energy of others. Did that make it some sort of symbiotic life-form? Blackbird said not. She said that gallowfyre was an expression of my link with the void, the element associated with the wraithkin. She laughed when I asked whether it was alive.
'Only as much as your arm or your leg is alive.' She laughed. 'It's you, Niall.'
I wasn't sure that explanation made me any more comfortable.
I placed my hand on the dark oak of the door and allowed the tendril of power to worm its way into the wood. In my mind's eye, it explored the crevices and cracks, tasting the bitter wood. Though there was no physical taste, my mouth still ran with saliva in reaction to the sensation. It wound around the knots, following the grain.
Suddenly there was a hard jolt. I almost jerked my hand away. It felt sharp and hot. The tendril had discovered something embedded in the wood. It felt sour, a spike of harsh metal embedded in the door. I realised we must have encountered an old nail or a bolt, embedded in the wood. The essence of it had seeped into the surrounding wood, tainting the oak. The tendril curled around it, avoiding where it pierced the door.
My power threaded slowly through the wood, searching for weaknesses and flaws, exploiting cracks. It was slow and difficult, worming through, looking for a way to release the lock, and it took all my attention. I realised that if anyone came looking in the small porch while I was there I would be discovered. I didn't have the concentration to hold my glamour, investigate the door and keep a lookout at the same time.
Momentarily distracted, my attention came back to the tendril. While my mind was elsewhere, it had done something strange. It had branched. Where there had been one exploring tendril before, now there were two – no, three, four, it was branching quicker than I could count. The whole door was soon threaded through like ivy on a wall, woven through every crack and crevice. I could feel every nail, each knot and curve in the grain. It was still locked, though. How did Blackbird get doors to pop open?
I could feel where the lock was screwed into the door. I tried extending the tendrils into the lock, but it was
