Darkness Falls (DA 7) (22 page)

And she so would, I thought with a stab of sorrow, have loved being a grandmother.

I cleared my throat, ignoring the ache as I added, “Did you find anything useful?”

“The phone belongs to one Harriet Monterrey, and she has several addresses on file.”

“One of them undoubtedly an apartment that was blown to smithereens a day or so ago.”

Uncle Rhoan gave me one of those long looks. “And how would you know that?”

“Because she tried to blow
us
up, not just the apartment. Monterrey is one of our dark sorceress’s aliases.”

“Your sorceress seems to have gained a liking for detonating things of late.”

She certainly did—and I was seriously hoping it wasn’t third time lucky when it came to apartments and bombs. “Well, I guess it’s a lot easier than summoning a demon to do your dirty work. Less personal cost involved.”

“And has the side benefit of destroying any evidence she might not wish found,” he said. “In which case, you had better be careful if you’re intending to visit her second address.”

“We will.” If only because Lauren and Lucian had been one step ahead of us right throughout this damn quest, and even now that Lucian was dead, Lauren still seemed more than capable of guessing our next move.

Which made me wonder whether perhaps there was some other form of
geas
on me. What if Lucian had placed more than one? The charm Ilianna had given me
was
supposed to nullify the strength of any
geas
placed on me, but I’d discovered the hard way that it didn’t entirely render them useless. Lucian’s attraction spell had still been active when I was in his presence; the charm just meant that I was better able to resist it.

“Where’s the second address?” I added.

“In Perth,” he said. “Forty-four Gingin Road, Lancelin, to be precise. It’s a very exclusive area, so your dark sorceress obviously has some money.”

“Obviously, given she also has a beachside property
on the Gold Coast
and
several houses here in Melbourne in rather expensive areas.” I hesitated. “I don’t suppose there are any traffic or security cams in the area you could hack into, are there?”

“No, but I ran a background check on the house. It’s basically been used as a luxury holiday rental for the last couple of years, so it’s doubtful there’d be anything of interest there.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” After all, our sorceress had a habit of doing the unexpected. And a holiday rental, luxurious or not, could certainly provide a good cover for darker activities. “Did you uncover anything about Monterrey herself?”

“Not a great deal,” he said. “The funds from the rental are going into a bank account, but the money hasn’t been touched for several years. According to tax records, she’s a retiree with a good income stream from investments, there are no outside fines or warrants on her, and she hasn’t used her Medicare card to go to the doctor recently.”

“Miss Joe Normal, in other words,” I said. “She’s damn good at setting up and maintaining alternate identities, I tell you.”

“I gather Stane is checking her other IDs for you, but you might want to send them along to me, as well,” he commented. “Sometimes the Directorate
has
more access to information than a black market racketeer.”

His voice was dry, and I grinned. “Yeah, but I don’t have to listen to him nagging about keeping safe.”

“Getting nagged is a whole lot better than getting dead. Just remember that.”

I did remember. I couldn’t forget, actually, given I had already died once. And I had no intention of repeating the process anytime soon.

“I’ll send a list of our sorceress’s other names now, and I promise to call if I intend to do anything daft.” I hesitated, thinking about my upcoming dinner with
Mike, then added, “I don’t suppose the Directorate has a tracker available that’s virtually undetectable—one that I could maybe borrow?”

“There might be,” he said, voice noncommittal. “Why?”

“Because I have someone I want to track, and they may or may not be aware of my suspicions of them.”

“Is this someone involved with the sorceress and the key hunt?”

“We’re not sure, but we did find a minor connection, and at this stage, I think it’s better to be cautious than not.” Even if I
still
didn’t really want to believe Mike could be so convincingly two-faced.

“Then I’ll supply the tracker, if you supply the name. I’ll run a check on him or her from here.”

I hesitated, but it wasn’t like I had any other choice. “His name is Michael Judd.”

Surprise rippled across Rhoan’s expression. “Your investment adviser?”

“And Mom’s before me. As I said, the connection might be coincidental, but we nevertheless need to be sure.”

“Yes, you do.” He paused, glancing away from the vid-phone. “Okay, we have several in stock. If you want to ask Azriel to meet me in the foyer in five minutes, I’ll hand both the bug and the tracker to him.”

“Excellent. Thanks, Uncle Rhoan. I owe you big-time.”

“Pay me by keeping yourself alive,” he said. “And by calling me the minute—”

“I will,” I cut in. “I promise, as I said.”

“Good.” With that, he hung up.

I shoved my phone back into my purse, then glanced at Azriel. He smiled and said, “Don’t do anything untoward while I’m gone.”

Once he’d disappeared, I walked over to my computer and Googled the Perth address, then flicked it over
from maps to street view. The area, as Rhoan had noted, was definitely upmarket.

Azriel reappeared a few minutes later and handed me a small box. Inside were what appeared to be two skin-colored dots hardly bigger than pinheads, and a small GPS device. “Your uncle said to place one of the dots on Mike’s wrist. It is designed to take on the wearer’s skin color and once in place will not come off. Nor will he feel its presence.”

“And did he say how I’m supposed to get it onto his wrist?”

“He suggested when you were shaking his hand. It has two sides—the side currently visible in the box clings to your finger; then it’s simply a matter of pressing that finger against his wrist when clasping his hand.”

Which sounded a whole lot easier than it probably would be. I placed the kit on the table, then waved a hand at the satellite image on the computer screen. “Can you get us there using this as a base?”

Azriel looked over my shoulder. “Yes.”

“Excellent.” I turned, dropped a quick kiss on his lips, and said, “Onward, James.”

He rolled his eyes but nevertheless wrapped his arms around me and transported us out of there. Lauren’s Lancelin house basically looked like someone had taken a bunch of differently sized white boxes and stacked on them on top of one another. It was only two stories high, but there were lots of different angles and sections thanks to the stacking effect. The windows—at least at the front of the house—were long and thin, and the entrance box was painted dark purple. There was a Mercedes and a BMW parked in front, suggesting the house was occupied.

“It is,” Azriel confirmed. “There are five adults and two children within.”

I frowned. “I wouldn’t think she’d set any traps that her paying guests could accidentally trigger.”

“As you noted, our sorceress has a habit of doing the unexpected.”

“Meaning we need to get those people out of there before we go in and explore.” I squinted up at him. “Could you apply a bit of mental pressure, and get them to leave?”

He studied the house for a moment; then his gaze met mine again. “Done. They are all currently heading for the beach. Security screens will remain down.”

“Excellent.” I headed down the long driveway and entered the house. It was open plan in design, all white walls, rich wood, and a beautiful glass staircase. The rear of the house was all windows, providing a sweeping view of the beach and the boats dotting the bay beyond it. “Stunning” didn’t even begin to describe the place and the view.

But we weren’t here for either of those things. I walked around the house, downstairs and up, looking for anything that seemed out of place or strange. There was nothing—not even the slightest whiff of magic. Not until we got into the triple garage, anyway.

I stood in the middle of the vast space, trying to pin down the vague sensation, and, after a moment, spun on my heel and headed for the far corner. Though the outside wall of the place looked solid, electricity nipped at my skin, the sensation not unlike the bite of ants. Something was here.

I glanced at Azriel. “Can you feel anything?”

He shook his head. “But Valdis says there is some kind of doorway present.”

Is,
Amaya said.
Old, but not dark like others.

“Meaning it
hasn’t
been created by our dark sorceress?”

“Or,” Azriel said, “it was created early in her career, before she took the darker path.”

“But this house isn’t that old.”

“No, but perhaps there was a previous dwelling here, and what you feel is little more than a remnant of the magic that protects whatever might still be left of it.”

“Maybe.” I hadn’t thought to ask Uncle Rhoan about the history of the place, and I should have, given Lauren’s penchant for passing on properties to one of her other aliases. I squatted and swept a hand across the pristine concrete. Energy skittered across my fingertips, the feel slightly sharper than before, but definitely not dirty or dark. I glanced up at Azriel. “She’s shown a liking for hiding things underground—do you think it’s possible that she’s got another bolt-hole here?”

“There is only one way to find out.”

He drew Valdis. I rose and stepped out of the way. “Just do a small hole. One that’s just big enough to look through. We don’t want the kids staying here falling through anything.”

He nodded. Flames flared from Valdis’s tip, then split and raced left and right, until they’d formed a circle barely bigger than a small fist. Gray smoke began to billow and the concrete dust teased my nose, making me sneeze. Deeper and deeper the flames bored into the concrete, until suddenly they were through and the concrete ring dropped into a deeper darkness. The flames clung to its side, providing us with shadowed glimpses of what lay below.

I knelt down and peered into the small hole, but Valdis’s flames weren’t bright enough to lift the darkness all that much. But the air smelled foul and there didn’t appear to be any sort of magical surprise waiting for us, as there had been last time.

I looked at Azriel. “Can you sense anything?”

He shook his head. “I do not believe hell creatures wait below.”

“Right, then, I’m going in.” I raised an eyebrow, waiting for a useless automatic rebuttal, but he surprised me.

“Be careful,” he said. “And if you do not wish your clothes destroyed, it might be wise to strip first.”

“Ha! I knew there was a reason you didn’t object to me going down there. You just want to see me naked.”

“Of course. Even if I prefer the song of your soul and your energy, I have been wearing this form long enough now that I’ve gained a human male’s appreciation of the female form.” Amusement briefly creased the corners of his eyes, but it faded as he added, tone a touch more serious, “And I
would
stop you from going down there if I thought there was any danger, or if I actually had some location markers that would allow me to go down there instead.”

I rose, stripped, and handed him my clothes. Then, drawing Amaya, I ignored his appreciative glance and the heat it stirred and called to the Aedh. The energy came thick and fast, and in a very short space of time, I was little more than particles. I slipped through the hole and down into the darkness. Magic tingled through my being, but its touch was old and distant and didn’t particularly feel threatening. If there
was
a spell here, then it was an old one—maybe one that had lost its strength over time.

The darkness was so impregnable I couldn’t see anything beyond the puddle of Valdis’s flames. I moved around, trying to get some sense of the place. It was only a small chamber by Lauren’s standards, and there didn’t appear to be any other chambers leading off it.

I moved back to the beacon that was Valdis and, taking a mental breath and warning Amaya to be ready, called to the Aedh once more. A heartbeat later, I was flesh again. Dizziness swept me, but the traditional blinding headache that used to always come with re-forming was little more than a muted, ignorable ache. I was definitely getting better at this whole energy-to-flesh thing.

Nothing,
Amaya grumbled.
Shame that.

Only to your bloodthirsty little self,
I said, amused.

Not bloodthirsty,
she muttered.
Soul thirsty. Difference.

I guess there was, in that her thirst had a more permanent ending for her victims. I lifted her blade and her flames flared brighter down her sides, peeling away the heavy cloak of darkness. The chamber was circular and little more than ten feet wide. The magic that I’d sensed earlier clung to the outer walls of the small cavern, but it was no stronger down here than it had been up in the garage. Like previous bolt-holes we’d uncovered, this one had various shelves and storage areas hewn into the earth walls. The bottles and various other witchy-type accoutrements that lined them were heavy with dust and old webs.

Awareness tingled through me as Azriel appeared. He glanced around, then handed me my clothes and said, “This does not appear to have been used for a very long time.”

“No.” I quickly dressed, then walked across to the nearest shelf and plucked one of the jars from its dusty perch. The glass was so old it was almost opaque, but there was what looked to be hair inside. I undid the lid and tipped the contents out onto the dirt. “But even so, I have no intention of leaving anything here that she might come back and use.”

“Might she not sense the destruction of the items?”

“If she was going to sense anything, it would probably be our entry into this place.” I shrugged. “I can’t imagine she’d sense these bits and pieces being destroyed, because in and of themselves they hold no magic.”