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He smiled. A real smile—the sort of smile that lit up his face and made my hormones do a weird little dance. “The Aedh, as a whole, have about as much respect for us as humanity does. In fact, at least humanity fears us. That is more than can be said for the Aedh.”
“You like the fact that humanity is scared by the grim reaper image?”
“Of course not, and that is not what I meant.”
“So what did you mean?”
“Simply that the Aedh rarely take our presence into account when contemplating whatever it is they spend their days contemplating. We are simply the messengers—the soul delivery people, if you will.”
“Even the Mijai?”
“The Mijai only came into existence once the power of the Aedh began to wane. There was a need to be filled, so we filled it.”
And it had been done out of their extraordinary sense of duty, I thought, rather than any real desire to fill the void created by the absence of the Aedh.
“It could be a dangerous task for the Mijai assigned the task of misleading the Raziq. They’ll be far from happy if they realize what is going on.”
He shrugged. “Danger comes in all forms and guises. You learn to live with it when you are a Mijai.”
I studied him for a moment, wondering why I suddenly had the suspicion he wasn’t talking about the Raziq or the things that broke through the dark path portal. “So if you’re right, I can go home and retrieve my bike right now and be safe?”
“If I’m right, yes. If I’m wrong, we’ll be running. Either way, I would not recommend staying there until our plan has fully materialized.”
“I wasn’t planning to stay, but I will need to grab some extra clothes and stuff.”
He nodded. “Do so. Just don’t be long.”
A smile teased my lips. “There speaks a man who has no idea just how long it can take a woman to decide on what clothes to pack.”
“No,” he said, his expression as blank as ever but with a bright glint in his eyes. “But I am the man who will just grab the nearest items and whisk you both away if you linger unnecessarily.”
“Now, there’s a threat I’m truly scared of!”
“As you should be. Reapers have no fashion sense, after all.” He released his grip of the right banister and stepped to one side. “You will head there now?”
“Yep. We’re not far away, so I’m walking.”
“Would it not be easier to become Aedh?”
“Not to my clothes, it wouldn’t.” I brushed past him and tried to ignore the tremor that ran through me as the warm, rich smell of him momentarily washed over me. He winked out of existence a moment later, and by the time I’d finished my Coke and walked home, my breathing had returned to a sensible rate.
Which obviously meant I needed to either see Lucian or go visit Franklin’s. I mean, seriously, this hunger for the reaper was getting ridiculous.
I paused in front of our ugly building, my gaze searching it, trying to see—or feel—anything out of the ordinary. There was nothing. And even though I trusted Azriel’s statement that the Raziq were unlikely to attack, every sense I had was on high alert the minute I entered our apartment. The air was still and smelled faintly of roses, honey, and rum—with undernotes of wolf. Tao had been here recently.
I headed into my bedroom and quickly collected clothes and various other personal items, then reset the alarms and went down to collect my bike. I couldn’t help running my hand over her sleek metal, or the stupid grin that stretched my lips. I loved this bike—and not using her for this long had hurt.
I secured my packs, then started her up and headed for the Brindle. The traffic heading into the city was light, so it didn’t take me too long to get there. I swung onto Lansdowne Street then right into Treasury Place. The Brindle was a white, four-story building that had once been a part of the Old Treasury complex. It look innocuous until you neared it—that’s when its veil of power kicked in, in the form of a tingling caress of energy that burned lightly across your skin. Not hurting, just warning those who were sensitive to such things that this place didn’t suffer fools or evil gladly.
I stopped in the parking lot along the edge of the area that had once held the premier’s office but had long ago been reclaimed as a park, and left my bags where they were simply because the Brindle’s magic secretly ensured no thief could ply his trade this close to her.
The last time I’d been here, they’d been waiting for us—three high-ranking witches, their tunic-clad bodies revealing little of their shapes and their faces serene as they’d forbidden us entry. This time the steps were empty, and the huge wood and wrought-iron doors were open, allowing a glimpse of the warm, shadowy interior. Several years ago I’d come here to deal with a ghost who was making life less than pleasant for some of the witches who lived in the rear parts of the old building, so I wasn’t unfamiliar with the place. Even so, a sense of awe still struck me as I stepped through the doorway. This place—these halls—were almost as old as Melbourne itself, but they were so entrenched in power that mini comets of energy shot through the air at any movement.
The foyer wasn’t exactly inviting, but the rich gold of the painted brickwork added a warmth that the somewhat austere entrance lacked. I walked on, my footsteps echoing in the stillness and little explosions of fire following in my wake. A woman appeared out of one of the rooms farther down the hall then stopped, her hands clasped together in front of her tunic-clad body.
“My name is Helena,” she said, her voice like the water in a spring river—sweet but cool. “How may I help you, child?”
“I need to know if anyone has recently accessed the curse that summons a Maniae.”
