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interesting thoughts.”
I glanced at him, bemused despite my annoyance. “Only sometimes?”
He nodded, his expression impassive but with that almost devilish glint back in his eyes. “It’s more than can be said about most humans.”
“As I’ve noted before, I’m not human.”
He bowed slightly in acknowledgment. “And for that, I am extremely grateful. My task might otherwise be extremely tedious.”
Then he winked out of existence again, leaving me wavering between amusement and surprise. “Well, at least someone’s having a good time,” I muttered, climbing onto my old silver Ducati. She fired up quickly, the hydrogen engine making little noise as we cruised out the gates and down the street.
The Green Tower was located in the Docklands precinct of Melbourne, and the building itself was something of an enigma. While most of the towers close by were the standard straight-up-and-down glass buildings, the Green Tower was spiral in design. From a distance, it almost looked like a twisting tree trunk. Recycled wooden louvers—which were apparently powered by the photovoltaic arrays that lined its rooftop and provided much of the building’s power—lined its sides and tracked the position of the sun even as they sheltered the building from the worst of the heat.
The underground parking lot was for residents only, so I found street parking, then walked back. Azriel appeared beside me as I entered the lobby.
The balding guard glanced up and gave us a cool smile. I wondered what he was seeing Azriel as, because it obviously wasn’t his half-naked, sword-carrying self. “May I help you?” he said.
“I’m Risa Jones. I have an appointment with Catherine Alston.”
“One moment please and I’ll check with her.” He turned away and made his call, and a few moments later returned with a far warmer attitude.
“She’s sent down the penthouse elevator. Just head left—it’s the last of five, in the separated section.”
“Thank you.” I followed his directions and found the appropriate elevator.
“A businessman,” Azriel said as the doors closed and the elevator whisked us silently upward.
I glanced at him. “What?”
“You wondered what the guard saw me as. I answered.”
“Why would a guard see you as a businessman?”
He shrugged. “Perhaps he has high expectations of death.”
I snorted softly. “I have high expectations of death, but he continually disappoints me.”
“Then don’t have expectations,” he said, either ignoring the jibe or not getting it. He was staring at the floor indicator like he’d never seen one before. “I speak with experience when I say it’s easier that way. And what I’ve never seen before is the type of magic that protects this elevator.”
I blinked. “It’s protected by magic?”
He nodded. “A fairly old spell, by the feel of it. And very powerful.”
I glanced at our chrome-and-glass surrounds but couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Then again, I wasn’t usually sensitive to magic, so that really wasn’t surprising. “What’s the difference between a new spell and an older one?”
He glanced at me. “The age of the practitioner?”
Laughter bubbled through me. “Oh my God, you just made a joke! I can’t believe it.”
“I merely told the truth.” But that twinkle was back in his eyes.
Was my reaper getting more human, or was I merely getting more used to him? And why was I even wondering that when the man was obviously following my thoughts? “Can you tell what it’s designed to do?”
He shrugged. “It’s some sort of protection spell. More than that, though, I can’t say.”
I frowned. “But if she’s got protection spells here, then she’s probably got them in her apartment, too. So how was she attacked?”
“Ask her. I am by no means an expert on magic.”
