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But hellhounds didn’t need to eat or drink or go to the toilet—they were on watch twenty-four/seven, until ordered otherwise.
“Where did he serve?” Although he didn’t look that old, Razan were linked to the life force of their masters and could live for centuries. Knowing which war might be handy to track down his real identity, because I very much doubted that the license and cards he carried were actually his.
Quinn hesitated. “He’s a Middle East army veteran. Retired about eighty-five years ago.”
Not very old in Razan terms at all. “And his name?”
“Mark Jackson. I can’t tell you at what point he became Razan, because that memory lies behind the shield.”
Damn. I squatted down beside the Razan, rolled him onto his side, and pointed to the barbwire tat. “Have you seen one like this before?”
Quinn shook his head. “But it is not usual for Raziq to mark their Razan with their own unique brand.”
“This particular brand has been seen on Razan who we are fairly certain belong to different masters.”
He half shrugged. “That is not unusual, either. There were Razan who served the Aedh priests at the gate temples who belonged to all. Maybe this tat signifies a joint venture of some kind.”
Which again lent weight to the idea that my father and this dark sorcerer were in cahoots, but I just didn’t think that was the case. Not now, at least.
Although it wasn’t like I could be sure of anything when it came to my parent.
“What about the pillars?”
Quinn raised his eyebrows. “What about them?”
“Well, can you ferret out any information about them—where they go, how they operate, that sort of stuff?”
“I can tell you most of that.”
No surprise there, given his reaction—or lack of it—when he’d first seen them. “So you have seen pillars like this before?”
“Not exactly like these, no. But the writing on them is a variation of old cuneiform, and they were once used to summon Aedh.”
I blinked. “Really? Why?”
“To bless crops or hunts, to garner favors, and in some cases, to offer one of their own to gain the blessing of the gods.”
“But Aedh aren’t gods.” I could understand them being mistaken for angels, but gods?
“We know that, but the prehistoric world was a much simpler place.”
I guess. “But these pillars aren’t summoning devices. They appear to be some mode of transport.”
He nodded. “They are.”
“Can we use them?”
He half smiled. “No, we cannot.” He picked up the Razan’s wrist and pushed up his sleeves. On the inside of his arm was a small tat that was a mix of cuneiform and scrollwork. “The magic within this allows the wearer to pass through such gates. But even if we could pass through them, I wouldn’t let you.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re still bleeding.” He cupped a hand under my elbow and carefully helped me to my feet. “If you bleed to death before Riley can give you a piece of her mind, there’ll be hell to pay.”
I snorted softly. Right now, him being chewed out by my aunt was the least of my worries. “What about Jak? And our captive?”
“I will give both appropriate memories. You start back through the tunnel.”
I hesitated, then did as he bid. It wasn’t very long before I heard them behind me, Jak cursing like a trooper as he once again scraped his way through the tunnel. Quinn had left rope dangling into the pit earlier, so even with my various aches and pains, it was fairly easy to climb out.
