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No one possessing a brain would trust the council or Hunter herself. “The Brindle can contain her magic. I couldn’t.”
“You really do need to master the art of lying, my dear.” Her smile grew more ferocious. “But I’m sure the high council will be pleased that you’ve solved this case so quickly.”
And with that, she hung up. I sighed in relief, though I’m not entirely sure why. I may have solved the case—and found Selwin before Hunter—but that didn’t mean the high council would now view me as useful rather than a liability.
Trepidation crawled through me, but I ignored it and did a search for the Brindle’s number, then called them.
“This is the Brindle depository,” a pleasant voice said. “How may we help you?”
“I’d like to speak to Kiandra, please.”
“I’m sorry, but that is not—”
“This is Risa Jones,” I cut in, “and it’s a matter of some urgency.”
“I’ll put you straight through,” she said almost before I’d finished talking. Meaning Kiandra had been expecting this call.
There was a click, a brief, soft hum of music, then Kiandra’s cool features came onto the screen. “If you’re calling to tell me your reaper is about to deliver a somewhat traumatized Deborah Selwin, you are too late.”
She didn’t mention the fact that Selwin was missing some extremities, and I hoped like hell that meant Azriel had been able to undo my mistakes. “I thought you might want to know that Selwin raised several fire demons in the ritual site. You’ll need to do something about them, because the fire that created them doesn’t seem to be burning itself out and the magic in that place is not happy about their presence.”
Her eyebrows rose. “You felt that?”
“Yes.”
“Interesting.”
I frowned. “Why?”
She shrugged. “It implies you are a sensitive, and that is unusual in one who is not a magic user.”
I might not be a magic user, but I’d been around one a good part of my life. That would surely make me more sensitive than most. “This all started because Hunter and the council killed her vampire master and condemned all his fledglings to death. Hunter’s going to revoke the death sentence if Selwin calls off the Maniae.”
“Then we shall attempt to talk sense into her. But it must be her decision, made of free will, for the curse to be successfully revoked.”
“I know. But I suspect she might agree.”
“Yes,” Kiandra said, her expression somewhat amused. “Karma can be a bitch when it hits, and I suspect that no matter how much dear Deborah might want revenge, she will not want to chance more retribution for her actions. I think she’s finally realized life is precious, no matter what might await at the end of it.”
Meaning, obviously, that Azriel hadn’t pieced her back together. I closed my eyes for a moment and tried to ignore the image of fingerless hands that rose like a ghost to taunt me. “Hunter knows you have her at the Brindle.”
“Then she knows she is safe here. I’ll be in contact to let you know, one way or the other, what Deborah’s decision is.”
“Thank you.”
She nodded, then hung up. I retrieved my wallet from the under-seat storage, then shoved it and the phone into my pocket and climbed onto my bike. My clothes were in tatters, but I hadn’t thought to bring a change, so it was going to be a long cold ride home. But at least it was dark and my near nakedness would be less noticeable.
I started up the Ducati and turned her around. The journey back across the mountainside was hell, every bump jarring my still-aching head and body. When I finally reached the freeway, I would have cheered, except I simply didn’t have the energy. It was all I could do to keep upright and pointed in the right direction.
I parked under the hotel, then shifted form and flowed up the elevator shaft until I reached my floor. Even that short trip just about did me in.
Twenty minutes later, after a quick shower to wash away the worst of the fabric threads, I crawled into bed and fell into a long, exhausted sleep.
When I finally woke, it was to the realization that I was no longer alone. The scent of lemongrass, sue
de, and musky, powerful male filled each breath and I smiled, recognizing not only the scent, but the muscular body that was pressed so warmly against mine.
“That’s odd,” I murmured, snuggling back against the hard press of his erection. “I don’t remember issuing an invite.”
