“Hang on a sec.” He spun away from the vid-phone’s camera and for several seconds there was silence. Then he reappeared. “The report said she’d possibly been frozen for somewhere between five and eight years.”
“So it’s entirely possible Mike was dealing with the real Genevieve.”
“Entirely possible,” Stane agreed. “But don’t forget to factor in his other connections—namely one Jim O’Reilly and an M. R. Greenfield.”
“As in, Michael Greenfield, the registered owner of Pénombre?”
“The very same one.”
And around and around the threads went. Fuck it, when were we going to get a break from the shit being flung at us?
Stane hesitated, then added, “Do you want me to do a background check on your Mike?”
If Mike was involved, then doing a check on him might well be akin to closing the barn door
after
the horse had bolted. Still, it wasn’t like we had any choice. “I guess it can’t hurt. In the meantime, I might ring him.”
“Do you think that wise?” Stane frowned. “It might achieve nothing more than alerting him that you’re on to him.”
“That’s a chance we’ll have to take, because we’re running out of time.”
Stane grunted. “I’ll make the background search a priority. Meanwhile, be careful. I’d hate to have to find another source of the best bubbly in town.”
I snorted. “You could, as has been suggested before, buy it yourself.”
His expression became one of shock, though amusement gleamed brightly in his eyes. “Wash your mouth out with soap, woman! I never buy anything.” He paused. “Except the perishables. When it comes to meat and chicken, I do prefer to know and trust the source.”
Suggesting that many of his sources weren’t trustworthy. But then, it
was
the black market we were talking about. “Contact me the minute you get anything vital. No matter what the time.”
“Will do.”
He hung up and I raised my gaze to Azriel’s. “Do you think he’s right—is it too much of a risk to ring Mike?”
He shrugged. “Perhaps, perhaps not. You do have a legitimate reason to ring—a past connection with a building we are investigating. If he is
not
involved with our sorceress, then there is no problem.”
“But if he
is
, he might well run.” I paused and swung my legs off the sofa. “Maybe you need to be there. That way, if he
does
bolt, you can track him.”
He raised his eyebrows. “That is a good idea, although surely if he
is
connected to Lauren, it would be one they would be aware of and prepared for.”
“If there is any sort of shielding or protection against your presence, it would be within the offices.” I thrust to my feet, unable to stand still. “But you don’t really have to be present in his room. You could hang about the outside of the building and see if he reacts in any way—like suddenly deciding to leave.”
“And if he does?”
“Then you come and get me, and we’ll question the bastard together.” My gaze met his, my expression grim. “If he
is
involved, then it’s more than likely he’s been there from the beginning.”
Which meant his relationship with Mom might have been nothing more than a sham. That he’d been using her just as much as Lucian had used me. And as much as I didn’t want to believe that, I couldn’t escape the possibility of it, either.
“It would seem the threads of the Aedh’s deceptions go far deeper than we had imagined.” Azriel’s voice was grim.
“Don’t they just.” I leaned forward and kissed him. “Be careful out there.”
He smiled but didn’t say anything, simply disappeared. I took a deep, somewhat quivery breath, then called Mike and walked over to the window as I listened to the vid-phone ringing. There was a brief pause in the dial tone; then Mike appeared on the screen. I didn’t actually know how old he was—he looked to be in his early forties, but I knew, from various things Mom had said, he was a lot older than that. His hair was black and short, the dark curls clinging close to his head like a helmet.
His eyes—a clear, striking gray—seemed to hold aeons of knowledge behind them, and for the first time since I’d known him, I wondered if they actually
did
. Dark sorcerers had the power to extend life through blood magic, and
this
dark sorcerer had been involved with an Aedh who knew the magic of an entirely different world.
“Risa.” His voice was deep and as aristocratic as his features. “This is a lovely surprise. I do hope there’s nothing wrong.”
I hoped there wasn’t, either. “I just wanted to ask you a question about a property.”
“One you wish to buy?”
“No.” I hesitated, not sure of the best way to broach the subject. He’d been in my life—or, at least, my mother’s life—for as long as I could remember, and while I didn’t want to upset him if he
was
innocent, I also needed answers.
He frowned. “I’m an accountant and investment adviser, not a real estate agent, but I shall nevertheless do my best to answer it.”
“But you have assisted clients over the years to purchase properties, haven’t you? I mean as investments.”
“Well, yes.” He paused, frowning. “Why do you ask?”
“Because,” I said, thinking fast, “a friend is interested in purchasing a couple of rental houses, but an in-depth search on them revealed a few paperwork oddities. He saw your name on one of them and asked me to ask you about them.”
“If there were paperwork oddities, my dear,” he said, frown increasing, “I’m sure they would have been picked up by the appropriate authorities at the time.”
“Well, apparently they weren’t.”
“How odd.” Despite the frown, there was little in the way of confusion in the steely depths of his eyes. Nor was there any sign of wariness, guilt, or any other sort of
emotion. And it was that very lack that made me uneasier than any actual emotion could have.
But was I reading things into his expressions—or lack thereof—and looking for a reason to believe his guilt because of what Kiandra had said? Maybe. I mean, a few tenuous links did not a villain make—but they couldn’t exactly be ignored, either.
He added, “What properties are we talking about?”
I hesitated, then said, “One was a little terrace in Argyle Place in Carlton, and the other was an apartment in Greeves Street, St. Kilda.”
“Good rental locations, both of them.” His expression was thoughtful. “But neither property immediately rings any bells. How long ago were these discrepancies?”
“He didn’t actually say.” I shrugged. “But a while ago, I think. He’s basically just dotting his i’s and crossing his t’s before he lays his money on the line.”
“And he hasn’t a solicitor? Surely that’s what
they’re
supposed to do?”
“Well, yeah, but he’s one of those thorough types who likes to double-check everything himself. Look, I’m sorry to have bothered you, but I said I’d ask—”
“My dear Risa,” he said, voice grave, “you’re not bothering me. I told you once before, if you ever need anything, I’m here. I do not intend to go back on that, even for a request as odd as this.”
“Well, if you could just check your files and see what information you might have on either of those properties, that would be fabulous,” I said. “But don’t go to too much trouble if the information is difficult to get to. It’s not that important.”
“I have to keep all records for seven years for tax purposes,” Mike said, with a half shrug. “So if the information is within the files I hold here, then you may have it.”
There was nothing in his manner that spoke of
suspicion. Nothing that spoke of guilt. It made me feel bad for suspecting him, but, at the same time, I couldn’t escape the notion that there
was
something going on. “Thanks again, Mike.”
“Anytime.” He hesitated. “You do remember we’re having dinner tonight, don’t you?”
I blinked. We’d agreed to meet for dinner, but I couldn’t actually remember anyone suggesting
tonight
. Sure, time was something I hadn’t had a great grip on lately, what with everything else that was going on, but my memory wasn’t that
bad
. Not yet, anyway.
“You’ve forgotten,” he added, when I didn’t immediately answer. “If you can’t make it, I understand—”
“No, it’s okay,” I said, though it wasn’t. The very last thing I needed to be doing right now was wasting time going to dinner with my mom’s ex. At the same time, could I afford
not
to go? Especially if he was somehow involved with Lauren?
“If I can find the files,” Mike added, “I’ll bring them along. I can’t, of course, allow you to take them away, but I can bend client confidentiality rules enough to let you look through them.”
“That would be fabulous.” I hesitated again. “When and where shall we meet?”
“There’s a new restaurant that just opened on Smith Street that Beatrice recommends I try—Winter’s, I believe it’s called. I can get her to book us a table for seven, if you’d like.”
Beatrice was Mike’s secretary and had been with him from the very beginning. If Mike was holding any secrets, then surely she would be aware of them—and that meant maybe she was someone Azriel should use his skills on.
“That would be great. Thanks, Mike.”
“See you at seven,” he said, and hung up.
I blew out a breath and wondered if I’d done the right thing. Time really
was
tight—did I really need to be
wasting it on the slight chance that Mike might just lead us to the sorceress?
But what other choice was there?
Every single time we’d found a clue that led us to one of the keys, the sorceress had gotten there before us, stealing the thing from under our noses. I couldn’t let her get this last one—not when all that stood between us and hell was that one remaining gate. And it was all well and good for the remnants to suggest that new ones could be built, but how long would that take?
We needed the key and we needed to place it somewhere safe—not just safe from the likes of Hunter and the sorceress, but safe from anyone else who might fancy themselves as the king or queen of hell, now or in the future.
But maybe before we did
any
of that, it would be better to track down and take out the sorceress. At least then there would be one less nutter for us to worry about.
I swung away from the window and ordered some food from the kitchen downstairs, then began to pace. There wasn’t a whole lot else I could do, not until Azriel got back or Stane came up with a list of possible locations for us to check out.
I’d finished a second can of Coke and was just scooping up a last bit of chocolate cake by the time energy and heat stirred the air, signifying Azriel’s return. I dumped the plate on the desk and swung around to face him, my gaze sweeping him to make sure he was okay.
“I am whole and unhurt,” he said immediately, amusement in his voice and his expression warm. “But I do thank you for the concern, even if it was not really required in this instance.”
“Hey, when you’re dealing with a dark sorceress, even the most innocent of quests could turn deadly.” I tugged him closer and dropped a kiss on his lips. “Did anything untoward happen?”
“Unfortunately, no.” He wrapped his arms loosely around my waist. “He didn’t call anyone, nor did he appear overly anxious after your call. He certainly didn’t leave.”
“Damn.”
“Yes. I did try to read the secretary’s thoughts, but she is another of those rare people I cannot access.”
“We seem to be striking more than our fair share of those types of people in this quest,” I grouched.
“Yes, but remember, the Aedh had been on this earth for a very long time before you came along. He had the time to gather those necessary to his cause, and—given his knowledge of who and what would be involved in any search for the key
before
he was sent back in time—that would include people a Mijai could not read.”
I smiled up at him. “You do know Lucian’s dead, right?”
He frowned, his confusion evident. “I cannot see the point of that question.”
Of course he couldn’t, because reapers supposedly didn’t do emotion, particularly jealousy. “Well, being dead, he’s no longer a rival or a threat. Surely that means you can actually say his name now.”
Amusement briefly flirted with his lips. “Actually, I don’t believe I can. Or, at least, I have no desire to grace the air with his foul presence, even if it is something as simple as giving him the courtesy of a name.”
Since I couldn’t really argue with
that
sentiment, I said, “Do you think I should still meet with Mike for dinner tonight, as planned? I mean, if he’s shown no concern over my questions, maybe his links with Sands and the others
are
innocent.”
“They possibly are, but we cannot afford to ignore any link right now, no matter how tenuous.” He shrugged. “Unless you wish to arrange for someone to watch him twenty-four hours a day, there is little else we can do but meet him tonight and see if his files lead anywhere else.”
“They won’t if he’s involved.” Or they’d take us off on some wild-goose chase.
“Either way, unless Stane comes through with a short list of key locations, we must pursue every possible lead we can. Especially given we have no idea which lead could take us to our dark sorceress—and as you noted, it would be far better to deal with her before we found the key than after.”
“Finding her is the whole problem,” I muttered. “It’s a shame hell did not seem to impede her in any way.”
“She is a
dark
sorceress,” Azriel noted, with a trace of amusement. “It gives her a far greater understanding of that place than even we reapers have.”
I guessed it did—but it still didn’t stop me from wishing that hell had provided at least
some
impediment. Even a few weeks could have made the difference for us. I sighed and stepped away. “So what next?”
Just as Azriel opened his mouth to reply, my phone rang sharply.
“Answering that, obviously.”
I smiled and hit the Answer button. Kiandra’s image came up on the vid-screen. “Risa,” she said, by way of hello. “I’ve spoken to a witch capable of psychometry, and she is willing to attempt a trace of the cuff link’s owner.”