Darkness Splintered

The ghost’s touch trailed across my fingers again. This time, there was a sense of urgency in the sensation.

I frowned and said, “Azriel —” at the exact same time as he said, Risa, hide. Someone just magicked into the building.

I swore. Where?

The office on the other side of the pit trap.

And there was no cover near, and nothing else but those rat-infested offices. I dove into the first one, sending rats scattering just as the far doorway opened. I twisted around, and saw a shadowed figure step out.

Amaya snarled, the sound soft but nevertheless echoing. Shut it, I told her fiercely, and flame out.

She grumbled, but obeyed. The shadow paused and seemed to be looking our way, although it was a little hard to tell given the ink around us. After a moment, he moved on, his stride long and lithe. Shifter, I thought, for no logical reason. He certainly didn’t smell like one – although that didn’t really mean that much in an age of scent-erasing soap. But he obviously didn’t smell me, either, and most shifters would have.

He strode past the pit trap, seemingly headed toward the shadowed corner. He wasn’t the sorcerer – his build was far too short and stocky – but if he was going to use whatever lay hidden by those stones, then he was someone we needed to talk to.

Do it fast, Azriel commented. He may be shorter than you, but he’ll be stronger.

Like I didn’t realize that. The shifter drew closer and tension wound through my limbs, until my legs were quivering with the need to move, to attack. I waited until he’d passed the office in which I’d hidden, then rose and ran after him, as quickly and as silently as I could.

He sensed me and pivoted, lashing out with a booted foot. The blow was so fast it was little more than a blur. I twisted away, and his heel scraped across my hip rather than burying itself in my stomach. I flipped Amaya so that I was holding blade rather than hilt, and swung her hard. The blow caught him high in the forearm and knocked him sideways. He swore, the sound guttural, almost incoherent, but caught his balance all too swiftly and launched at me. I caught a brief glimpse of his features as I spun away, and realized with a sinking sensation exactly what I was dealing with. He wasn’t a shifter, or even a Razan, but rather another of those beings who’d been twisted by magic. He just didn’t feel as wrong as his brethren. Maybe our sorcerer was getting the hang of perverting the souls of others.

I ducked under another leap but this time he anticipated the move, somehow twisting in midair to crash body-first into me. I landed on my back with a grunt, briefly winded, my arms and legs tangled in his. I swore, pulled an arm free, and chopped down with Amaya. Her hilt smashed into his shoulder and something cracked. He howled, the sound one of fury and pain combined, and lashed out with an elbow. The blow struck my chin hard enough to rattle teeth, and for a moment I saw stars.

Amaya hissed in fury, a sound I could only echo. I bucked, trying to get him off me, but I might as well have tried moving a ton of bricks. He laughed and grabbed at my arms, managing to pin one to the grimy concrete, his breath thick and fetid as it washed across my face. He may not have smelled bad on the outside, but he was definitely rotting inside.

I bucked again, this time lifting him high enough to get my knees under him. I thrust him up and over my head, then scrambled to my feet and lunged toward him. Though still on the ground, he spun, one leg sweeping out, trying to hook mine. I leapt over it and landed, knees first, in the middle of his gut. As air exploded from his lungs, I smashed my fist into his chin with as much force as I could muster. His head snapped sideways and his body went limp. He was out cold.

I blew out a relieved breath, but didn’t immediately climb to my feet. Azriel, can you read him from a distance?

Normally yes, but this creature’s soul and mind have been twisted by magic. I need contact.

Meaning I have to carry him out? Bummer.

It’s not far.

Says the man who doesn’t have to carry him, I grumbled.

You could drag him.

Not if we want any hope of our presence here to remain unknown. The fucking floor is full of grease and muck. And while my footprints would undoubtedly show, at least there was a chance of them not catching anyone’s eye, given that the twisted shifter and who knows what else came through here.

I rose, grabbed the shifter’s hands, then hauled him to his feet with a grunt of effort. After draping his arms around my neck, I knelt in front of him and let his body fall over my shoulder and back. Then I lifted him, holding on to one arm and leg to keep him in place. That done, I turned and headed for the exit.

It felt like I’d run a fucking marathon by the time I reached the loading bay. The shifter might not have been overly tall, but he was thick and muscular, and weighed a goddamn ton. I eased him from my shoulder, then propped him against the roller door and sucked in great gulps of air. When the trembling in my muscles finally eased, I shifted my grip to his arm and let him drop sideways. And, in the process, just about ripped his arm out of its socket. Not that that particularly worried me.

I shoved his upper body through the hole in the roller door, and Azriel dragged the rest of him out. I followed, relieved to be in fresh air again.

I studied the street, making sure no one was paying any particular attention to what we were doing, then knelt on the other side of the prone form. “So, can you read him?”

“Wait.” Azriel closed his eyes and placed two fingers lightly against the shifter’s high forehead. After several moments of silence, he shook his head and glanced at me. “The shifter’s mind is a maze of magic and blocks, and it feels like the work of the Aedh. It has not the feel of dark magic.”

I frowned. “But Lucian’s dead —”

“Yes,” he cut in. “But these creatures were more than likely created by our sorceress while he lived, and the Aedh was more than a little aware of my abilities. He ensured I could not get information from this mind.”

“So I carried this bastard out here for nothing?”

He smiled. “The Aedh was not as clever as he liked to think. There is more than one way to get information from a mind.”

With that, he placed his hands on either side of the shifter’s head and closed his eyes. Almost instantly Valdis’s sides began to glow, showering the immediate darkness with blue sparks. Energy surged, its feel sharp and fierce, and in the space between Azriel’s hands pictures began to flow – flickering images that moved so fast they were little more than blurs of color. The last time I’d seen him do this was when he’d tried to capture the lingering memories from a dead man’s mind. This man was very much alive, and perhaps that was why the images were sharper, faster.

I watched in silence, catching an occasional glimpse of Lauren but little else. After a few minutes, Azriel lowered his hands and leaned back on his heels.

“Well, that was interesting.”

I raised my eyebrows. “In what way?”

“He has only ever dealt with Lauren and Lucien. I could find no indication that there was another party involved in their schemes.”

“Which doesn’t mean there isn’t,” I commented. “Just that he’s been extraordinarily canny about revealing himself.”

“Perhaps.” Azriel’s gaze briefly swept the shifter, and distaste briefly touched his expression. “He was created just over a week ago. His flesh belongs to a drifter but his soul was wrenched from the fires of hell.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

His gaze came to mine. Anger burned deep in those blue depths. “When Lauren creates these creatures, she replaces the original soul with one who is bound by her magic to obey. Her source is hell itself.”

She was dragging souls back from hell? Not just demons, but souls? Holy fucking crap. “So what happens to the original soul? Do they share flesh space?”

“No. It was forced out, so it would have become one of the lost ones.”