And
that
required magic.
Which meant that either Lauren was near, or Mike was a whole lot more than he ever seemed.
And despite half hoping that he might be the betrayer
in my life, I really
didn’t
want to believe it. It didn’t matter whether he was simply involved with Lauren or was the shape-shifting sorceress herself; the key problem was, his lies and evil had infiltrated not only
my
life, but my mom’s, as well. And in the growing pile of things I could never forgive,
that
would be right up there on the top.
Am here,
Amaya said.
Can eat if wish. No more lies then.
I hesitated, oddly tempted. But I’d already taken one innocent life; I would not take another. Not until I at least had some
definite
evidence—and the presence of magic in this restaurant wasn’t that. So I simply said,
Can you feel the magic?
Some,
she said.
Near.
Define near.
Near,
she repeated.
Not here.
Which was not at all helpful, although I guess it
did
mean whatever magic was active in this restaurant wasn’t actually coming from Mike himself. I reached for my glass again, but as my fingers wrapped around it, Mike caught my wrist, stopping me.
“This is new.” His thumb brushed the multicolored ribbon-and-stone tattoo around my right wrist. “And very unusual.”
His touch had my skin crawling again, and yet there was nothing inherently wrong with it. It was no longer even moist.
“Yes, it is.” I gently tried to pull my hand from his, but his grip only tightened.
“Does it represent anything in particular?” His gaze narrowed as he leaned a little closer to study it. “The ink is unusually vibrant. It almost appears to be real ribbon rather than merely ink.”
“That’s what you get for going to a good tattooist,” I said. “Mike, please let go. You’re hurting me.”
“My dear girl, I’m so sorry.” He released me
immediately, but his gaze, when it met mine, was anything but contrite. And the tension I’d sensed earlier was back, only this time it had an almost furious edge. “I’ve just never seen something so . . . intricate before. Whoever designed it for you was very proficient at his or her craft.”
“Which is why they get the big money.” I smiled at the waitress as she placed our meals on the table, somewhat relieved at the interruption.
When she left, Mike placed his napkin on the table and rose. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment, I have to go to the bathroom.”
“Your bladder has very inconvenient timing,” I said, hoping my relief at getting a brief respite from his presence didn’t show.
“That,” he said, amusement in his voice, “is also another problem that comes with age. I won’t be long.”
I nodded and picked up my utensils, tucking into my shepherd’s pie as he walked away. But the minute he’d left the room, I scrambled to my feet and all but ran to the door. I peered around the edge of the frame to watch him, torn between wanting him to leave—and therefore prove himself a bad guy—and
not
wanting it to happen.
He didn’t leave. He did what he said he was doing—went to the bathroom.
I swung around and hightailed it to the rear of the dining room. The couple glanced at me and smiled but quickly went back to staring adoringly into each other’s eyes.
Thankfully, the door out to the small courtyard wasn’t locked. I opened it and stepped out. Almost immediately, Azriel appeared, though he was in the left rear corner, squashed between a fountain and a planter box filled with colorful pansies.
“I’m gathering there’s some sort of barrier around the café,” I said, unable to keep the amusement out of my
voice or expression. “And that’s why you are where you are.”
“Indeed,” he said. “And it is a most uncomfortable position.”
“It looks it.” My smile faded. “What sort of barrier is it?”
“It is similar in feel—although decidedly darker—to the barrier we raised around the building that held both the weapons exhibition and the second key.”
Meaning there were undoubtedly wards placed on each corner of this building, because that was the only way to raise such a complete barrier. “Do you think it’s worth hunting around to find them? I might be able to displace them.”
“No, because whoever placed the wards would undoubtedly have taken into account the location and the possibility of accidental or purposeful displacement.” He paused, his gaze narrowing. “I smell something odd on you.”
I frowned. “Define odd.”
“Odd,” he said, almost echoing my sword’s response not so long ago. “A scent that wasn’t evident when you entered this place. It has an almost otherworldly feel.”
“Otherworldly as in magical?”
“Perhaps.” His concern raced through me, knife sharp but edged with anger. “Perhaps it would be wise for you to disappear now. The fact there is magic both around this place and on
you
very much suggests that Mike is at least involved with Lauren.”
“If he is, then we can’t afford to make him suspect we’re aware of that,” I said. “Lauren undoubtedly has a dozen other identities she could disappear into, and if that happens, we lose her.”
Though his expression gave little away, he could no longer keep his feelings from me, and to say he was not happy would be something of an understatement. “You placed the tracker?”
“I did.” I hesitated. “If we want to track him, though,
we need some form of transportation. My car was blown up with the house, and he knows my bike too well. Do you think you can convince someone to lend us a car?”
“I shall appropriate one immediately.” He paused. “Mike is on the way back.”
I blew Azriel a kiss, then scooted back to the table and quickly demolished several mouthfuls so that it would seem as if I’d been eating the whole time he was gone. I glanced up as he sat back down. His expression was less than happy. “Is everything okay?”
He nodded. “Although I’m afraid I may have to cut our dinner a little short. I have another meeting I forgot about.”
I raised my eyebrows. Coincidence or truth? And was that “other meeting” a result of a phone call he’d made while in the bathroom? A phone call to Lauren, perhaps? It seemed likely, given that he’d so abruptly left the table after examining the ward on my wrist—and it would certainly explain his expression now.
“You need to get yourself a portable memory device,” I said. “You know, a smartphone.”
He picked up his knife and fork and began eating. “I do have one; I just prefer
not
to put my life onto a device that could be stolen.”
“They’re fingerprint secured nowadays,” I said. “No one but you can access them.” Well, no one but a hacker of high skill. Like Stane, for instance. And maybe
that
was something we needed to do.
He waved the comment away. “I still prefer to rely on my brain, even if I do occasionally forget things of late.”
“If you were a woman, I’d ask if you were pregnant.” Though the comment was lightly said, I couldn’t help but watch his reaction carefully. Because if he
was
Lauren, then he
would
be pregnant. Lucian had been absolutely certain, and I had no reason to doubt him given that a similar conviction with Ilianna had proved true. And
though I had no idea how a full-body shift would affect any child she/he might be carrying, Lucian had been well aware of what Lauren was, and he wouldn’t have impregnated her if there’d been any risk of a shift damaging or aborting his child.
Mike snorted, the sound somewhat disparaging. And yet, there was something about his reaction that had me frowning—something that didn’t quite sit right. Maybe it was just the glimmer of smugness that had flared briefly in his eyes.
“
If
I was female,
and
a lot younger, then that would be a possibility,” he said, “because I am certainly not a monk.”
“Age is no barrier to pregnancy these days.”
“No, but being male
is
.” He eyed me severely for a moment. “This is a very odd line of questioning.”
I smiled. “I’m not questioning; I was merely having a bit of fun.”
“Ah.” He glanced at his watch and shook his head. “I really do have to go. Perhaps we can reset this dinner for a later date?”
“Sure. Though I hope you don’t mind if I finish my meal first.”
“By all means, go ahead.” He took his wallet from his pocket and placed some cash on the table. “I am sorry I have to leave so abruptly.”
I wasn’t. But I smiled and waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it, Mike. We’ll catch up again when you have a chance.”
He nodded and rose, sweeping his coat off the back of the chair, then giving me a slight, old-fashioned bow. “Till next we meet.”
I nodded, and he left. I waited until I was sure he wasn’t coming back, then reached down into my purse and grabbed the tracking device. Once I’d turned it on, a street map appeared, accompanied by a small red dot
that was steadily moving away from the restaurant’s position on Smith Street. I scooped up a few more mouthfuls of the delicious pie, then grabbed my bag and headed out the door. Mike was half a block ahead, climbing into his silver Mercedes.
Turn right,
Azriel said.
I have acquired a car, but it is parked around the corner from the restaurant.
I glanced Mike’s way again, then headed right. Azriel was standing beside a white Ford Focus.
“Good car choice,” I said, as he tossed me the keys. “It’s fast, but common enough not to stand out. Who’d you steal it from?”
“I do not steal. I merely borrow.”
I grinned as I climbed in and started the car. “So that coffee you acquired from McDonald’s for me not so long ago was merely borrowed? Am I supposed to regurgitate it at some point and give it back?”
“Now,” he said, his expression severe but amusement dancing in his eyes, “you are just being silly.”
“Totally.” I checked for traffic, pulled out of the parking spot, then handed him the tracker. “You can direct me.”
“A situation I should probably enjoy, given it is the only time you are likely to take direction from me without some form of argument.”
My amusement grew. “I don’t argue
all
the time.”
“No,” he agreed. “Just ninety-eight percent of the time. Mike is on the move and is several blocks ahead of us.”
I swung onto Smith Street but kept just below the speed limit. With the tracker in place and working, there was no need to get too close. We drove through Collingwood, then made our way onto Hoddle Street, but didn’t—as I’d half expected—head toward Mike’s office. Instead, he continued on, driving over the Yarra River and onto Punt Road.
“You know,” I said into the silence, “I have no idea where Mike actually lives.”
Azriel glanced at me. “Why not? Has he not been in your life since you were born?”
“Yes, but I don’t believe he’s ever mentioned his home address, and I can’t remember Mom ever going there. I mean, she may have, but it certainly seemed that he came to our place more than the other way around.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Did you not think it strange that he would never mention his living arrangements, given his intimacy with your mother?”
“Now that I think about it, yes. At the time, no. I mean, I didn’t even realize he and Mom were intimate until after she’d died.” And if anything was strange, then it was
that
. I mean, no child really wants to think about her parents having sex, but Mom had been a werewolf—even if a lab-designed one—and she had a werewolf’s sexual nature and outlook. She’d certainly never hidden the existence of other partners during my childhood, so why would she hide the fact she’d been in a long-term relationship with Mike?
She wouldn’t, I thought with a chill.
And maybe that meant their relationship
hadn’t
been sexual. Maybe it had been nothing more than an avenue of access—to me, to keep an eye on me.
After all, Lucian had obviously known of my creation before he’d been cast back in time by the Raziq, because it certainly
hadn’t
been luck that his path had crossed mine. He’d also obviously known that my father had created the keys in such a way that only he, or one of his blood, could find them. So why wouldn’t he have placed someone in my life—someone outwardly ordinary—to keep an eye on me? Especially if that someone was well practiced in magic—or, at least, had easy access to someone who was?
It was only when my father had come back into my life that Lucian had enacted his own plans, starting with
my mother’s murder. He’d believed that without her presence, without her advice, I would be infinitely more vulnerable, and therefore more accepting of his advances. And he’d been right, up until the moment when I’d finally realized there was a lot more going on than just sexual attraction.
Of course, once I’d killed Lucian, I’d cut Lauren’s access to me—and therefore the key search. And
that
could certainly explain Mike’s attempts to become a bigger part of my life since Mom’s death. As my accountant and investment adviser, his contact with me was limited to business meetings. But as a friend of my mother’s—a friend who’d supposedly promised her that he’d keep an eye on me—he certainly had more of a chance of doing that.
I briefly scrubbed a hand across my eyes and swore softly. Azriel wrapped his fingers around mine and squeezed gently. “Do not feel bad. The Aedh had centuries to plot. It is not really surprising that we are still unraveling the threads of his treachery.”
“Yeah, but if I’d listened to you a bit sooner—”
“We cannot change the past. We can only learn from it and move on.”
“Something that’s more easily said than done,” I commented. Especially when the past involved the two deaths that should never have happened—although one of them certainly wasn’t either Lucian’s or Lauren’s fault.
“Hunter’s turn will come,” Azriel said.
I glanced at him. “You can’t be sure of that. Hell, even the fates aren’t sure of that, from what you’ve said.”