was a sickly green—the same color that now glowed within the runes. Amaya screamed, a battle cry that was audible both in my head and in the cavern.
Fuck, flame out and be quiet, I ordered fiercely.
No. Fight what comes.
Not yet. Flame out, Amaya.
Should fight. It was all but a snarl, but her light died. I wished I could say the same about her fierce screaming, but at least it was only inside my head.
The sickly light of the pillars spread tendrils across the darkness, lifting the shadows in some sections of the cavern but casting others into deeper darkness. Our niche fell between the two. Whatever was coming through that gateway had only to glance our way and we were gone.
Then, suddenly, the light stopped pulsing and a shadow stepped through. It was a man—a tall man, with broad shoulders and dark hair. As he strode toward the exit, the light between the pillars died, leaving only the sickly glow of the runes to lift the sudden darkness. It wasn’t enough, and the stranger became little more than a shadow, hinted at but not fully fleshed out.
He paused at the north point of the circle and waved his hand over them. The light in the six runes died and he strode toward the tunnel, quickly disappearing. Oddly enough, though he’d appeared taller than Jak when he’d first come into view, I had no sense that he was in any way restricted by the tight confines of the tunnel. Maybe it was just the weird light that had made him seem taller.
As the sounds of his steps faded, Jak bent closer, his breath warm against my left ear as he murmured, “Now what?”
“We wait.”
“But if he came through those pillars, why can’t we use them to exit?”
“Because he’ll sense the magic kicking in and will either give chase or send something after us.”
“Either option is better than getting caught in this damn niche.”
“Not when we have no idea if the pillars are both exit and entry. For all I know, the exit point here is nothing more than a ruse. It could be what I sensed down at the other end of the tunnel.”
“But Ilianna said—”
“That she didn’t understand the entire spell. It won’t hurt to wait, Jak.”
“It ju [Stdderst might if that man comes back and sees us,” he muttered. “Just because I have a knife doesn’t mean I can use it.”
“Then it’s a good thing I can use the sword, isn’t it?” I all but snapped.
“Yeah, I guess it is.” His free hand slipped down my back and came to rest on my butt. “You have no idea how exciting I find that.”
Actually I did, given how close we were standing. But then, he was a werewolf, and danger was an aphrodisiac to most wolves, even if they didn’t actively seek it out. I grabbed his hand and shoved it away. “Behave.”
He chuckled softly, but otherwise did as bid. I flared my nostrils and sifted through surrounding scents, trying to get some idea of the man who’d come through the gate. But no matter how hard I tried, I could neither smell nor hear him. Maybe there was an exit at the other end of the tunnel. Maybe he’d done little more than check what his trap had caught and then moved on-
A gruff voice cut the thought short. “Look, I’m telling you, there’s no one here.”
It was hard to tell just how close he was because his words seemed to echo in the still blackness. One thing was sure—his voice was unfamiliar, and that was something of a relief. I’d half expected otherwise—that it would, somehow, be Lucian. Azriel’s distrust had a lot to answer for.
“Well, apparently vermin can set the trap off,” the stranger said. Despite the hint of exasperation, there was a deeper edge of wariness enriching his voice. He feared the person he spoke to. “As I said, there’s no one in the hole.”
He was definitely closer now, and tension wound through my limbs. I licked my lips, and once again tightened my grip on Amaya. Her screaming ratcheted up several notches, but at least she was restrained enough to keep it internal—although that didn’t help the ache in my head any.
“Yes, I’ve released them.” The stranger paused. “Yes, I’ll head up now and move any cars that might be hanging about, just in case.”
“Damn,” Jak muttered. “If he damages—”
I stamped on his foot, hard. He hissed, but otherwise fell silent.
The stranger reappeared. He made a motion with his left hand, and the sickly glow reappeared in the runes. It wasn’t strong enough to light the niche, but it did throw off just enough to make him a little more visible. He was about my height, with thick shoulders, muscular arms, and tree-trunk legs. He reminded me somewhat of a wrestler, but he was extraordinarily light on his feet. He passed close by our niche, but didn’t see or smell us—he was human, not shifter or were, and for that I was suddenly grateful.
But as he passed, I noted the tats on his shoulders—one of a dragon with two swords crossed above it and the other a ring of barbed wire.
I’d seen both a number of times over the last few months. The dragon and swords meant he was a Razan, and while I wasn’t sure what the barbed wire tat represented, I’d seen it on the man who’d arranged the delivery of the Dusan that now resided on my left arm, as well as on one of the men who’d killed Logan’s secretary. How the two were connected I [ conowhad no idea, because while we suspected that my father was responsible for the Dusan, there was no logical connection between him and the murder of Logan and his secretary. In fact, we were pretty sure the person responsible for those was the man who’d been impersonating Nadler.
Which meant we really needed to question this man.
The stranger strode on, the light in the six runes dying as he approached. As it did, the pillars came to life again.
It was now or never.
I motioned Jak to stay put, then carefully squeezed out of the niche and padded silently forward, flipping Amaya around to hold her by the blade rather than the hilt as I did so. I suspected—given her generally shitty mood—that if I used her blade she might take matters into her own hand and kill our quarry rather than just knock him out.
I raised the sword, but he suddenly dropped and turned, and Amaya whooshed harmlessly over his head. He surged upright, but I spun and kicked him hard in the gut. He flew backward, hit the wall with a loud crack, and slithered to the floor. I flipped Amaya, holding her hilt once more, but the Razan didn’t get up. After another moment or two, I stepped forward and pressed two fingers against his neck. His pulse was steady and strong, so I hadn’t done much more than knock him out.
“Now what do we do with him?” Jak came out of the niche and stopped beside me.
“We find out who he is and who he was talking to.”
I knelt beside the Razan and went through his pockets. I found the phone and tossed that to Jak, then continued the search until I found his wallet.
“According to his license,” I said, “his name is Henry Mack, and he lives in Broadmeadows.”
Jak grunted. “The phone is locked. Any ideas?”
My gaze went to his birth date on his license. It was a long shot, but a lot of people used such things for passwords. “Try one-four-oh-four.”
He did so, then shook his head.
“Reverse it.”
He pressed the appropriate buttons. “Nope.”
I gave him the year; then, when that also proved a bust, glanced at our last hope—the post code—and said, “Three-oh-four-seven, either way.”
“Bingo to the latter.”
I placed his license on the stone near his hand, then pulled out the other cards. There were four credit cards—two in the name of Henry Mack, and two in the name of Jason Marks—a transit card, and various receipts from shops. Mainly for clothes and grocery items, although interestingly, there was a small receipt from a place called Esoteric Supplies, which I knew from Ilianna was one of the main suppliers of wiccan items in Melbourne.
