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“Oh. Yeah.” She turned and walked back into the bedroom, reappearing a few moments later with her bag of tricks—one that I knew from long experience she never went anywhere without. “I don’t have a whole lot on hand. Demons aren’t something I generally have to worry about.” She hesitated, frowning at Azriel. “Well, not until a certain sword-bearing reaper stepped into our lives.”
“If I hadn’t stepped into your lives, at least one of you would now be dead,” he said softly.
I shot him a glance. He returned my gaze evenly, giving little away as per usual. But I knew who he meant—Tao. I shivered and watched Ilianna rummage through her case.
“Ah, here we go,” she said, pulling out several items, then rising. She handed me three small smoky amber vials and a rather nasty-looking sharpened stake.
“I doubt vampires are going to be a problem at a witch ritual site,” I said, studying the stake dubiously. It actually felt good in my hand—well-balanced and not too heavy.
“Stakes are good for more than just vampires,” Ilianna said sarcastically, “and you of all people should know that.”
I gave her a look and she made an annoyed noise. “It’s white ash, which is not only a very strong wood, but also holds magical properties that make it dangerous to all creatures not of natural creation. And this one has been soaked in holy water, just to give it a little extra kick.”
I frowned. “But vampires are of natural creation. Most of them were once human.” Mainly because humans tended to hunger for eternal life, and vampir
ism offered that. Which didn’t mean there weren’t nonhumans who became vamps, just that there tended to be less of them.
“Were being the operative word. The process that makes them vampire is an unnatural creation. As are the creatures from hell—who may or may not have also once been human.”
“What about Aedh and reapers? Is the wood dangerous to them?”
A grin teased her lips. “No creature, flesh or energy, would be too pleased about being staked. But I don’t know if it will affect them magically or not. I certainly didn’t read anything about it during my time at the Brindle.”
I glanced at Azriel. He merely shrugged and said, “The only way to know is to try it, and you’ll have to forgive my reluctance to volunteer. I do prefer my flesh as it currently is.”
So did I, I thought, and felt heat touch my cheeks as he glanced my way. Damn my recalcitrant thoughts to hell. I cleared my throat and glanced at the three amber vials. “And these?”
“Holy water. Use it sparingly—you don’t need a lot for it to be effective.”
“Okay.” I shoved the stake in my belt, then carefully placed the little vials in various pockets. “I’m not sure how long this is going to take, but if you don’t hear from me by midnight, contact the Brindle for directions, then call Aunt Riley and let her know what’s happening.”
Ilianna nodded and gave me a quick hug. “Be careful, okay?”
I nodded, although it wasn’t like I deliberately threw myself into danger. It just happened. Sort of like night following day, I suppose.
I gave Mirri a quick kiss on the cheek, then added, “Sorry for the interruption. Next time I’ll call ahead.”
She snorted. “I’ve been a part of this little family for long enough to know that you never phone ahead. There is an imp inside you, Risa Jones, that occasionally loves to upset the apple cart.”
I grinned, but I couldn’t deny the fact that I sometimes did take great delight in doing the unexpected.
“And that,” Azriel said, his voice clear and bemused as we headed down the stairs, “might be more than a little frustrating, but it could also be your one saving grace.”
I glanced at him. “Meaning?”
“Meaning that doing the unexpected has so far kept us one step ahead of the Raziq. Here’s hoping it continues to work.”
“Amen to that,” I muttered. But even as I said it, I couldn’t help thinking that, sooner or later, our luck would run out.
Mount Macedon was about forty miles outside Melbourne, so it took me a little under an hour to get up there. Dusk was settling in by the time I turned onto the rough-looking dirt road that apparently led to the sacred site—although to call it a road was something of a misnomer. Goat track was more apt.
I slowed considerably, avoiding the worst of the ruts and gunning through the ones I couldn’t, splashing muddy water all over the bike and myself. The steep, tree-lined mountainside seemed to close in around me, filled with shadows and an odd sense of watchfulness, almost as if the trees were sentient.
I suppressed a shiver and rode on, the Ducati’s lights coming on automatically as the dusk and shadows gave way to darkness. It wasn’t the best time to be going hunting, especially in unfamiliar territory. I might have the keen nose of a wolf, but that wouldn’t help me against the sort of traps a witch might conjure. And Selwin had had plenty of time to do just that.
A set of old wrought-iron gates came into view. I stopped, kicking out the bike stand but leaving the motor running and the lights on as I walked over to the gates—which, unsurprisingly, were padlocked. The lock was ancient and heavy, the chain as thick as my arm. It wasn’t something I had any hope of breaking.
“Azriel, are you here?”
