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“Then am I allowed to know what it’s related to?”
I hesitated. “It’s a Directorate investigation—”
“The vampire drainings.” His voice was grim. “Has to be. Not that we’re allowed to print anything about them, which stinks.”
“I can’t do anything about that.”
“Yeah, I know. I’ll ask around, but don’t expect much.” He took a drink, then licked the froth from his lips, the simple movement raising memories of other things he’d done with his tongue. Desire stirred anew, and the heated spark in his eyes grew. But all he said was, “Now, to my news.”
“And here I was thinking we’d have to dance around it some more.”
He grinned. “I thought about it, but decided to take pity on you. You really do look like crap.”
“Maybe I look that way because people keep saying it,” I grouched, and downed half the glass of beer. Which wasn’t a good thing to do on a practically empty stomach, but I was half were and it wasn’t likely to affect me the same way it would a human. I waved a hand at him. “So, give.”
“I think I may have discovered where the fake Nadler—if he is indeed our dark sorcerer—has his base of operations on West Street.”
West Street being the street where Stane was located, and the area Nadler’s consortium had bought up. But before I could say anything, Azriel popped into existence behind Jak and pressed two fingers against his temple. Jak froze instantly, but no one seemed to find this—or a half-naked, sword-bearing reaper—interesting. Azriel was obviously controlling what everyone saw again.
“What the hell are you doing?” I asked in exasperation.
Azriel raised his eyebrows, though his attention wasn’t really on me, but rather Jak. “Getting the information he holds, of course.”
“And you couldn’t get it the old-fashioned way?” I said. “You know, by actually letting him tell us?”
“Why would I do that when this is quicker?” His differently colored blue eyes clashed with mine, as distant and matter-of-fact as his expression. “I will be back.”
Before I could object, he disappeared again. I growled, but stifled the sound as Jak regained life. I said, “So how did you manage this minor miracle?”
“By keeping my ear to the ground.” He took another sip of beer. “There’s been some rumblings among the homeless in the area about being forcibly moved on—”
“The consortium has armed security patrolling the warehouses to stop the looters and taggers, so that isn’t really strange.” Especially in this situation, where the abandoned buildings surrounded one of the most powerful ley-line intersections in Melbourne. A sorcerer intent on using it wouldn’t want anyone stumbling upon anything by mistake.
“Yeah,” he said, his voice dry. “But these particular guards were dogs. Dogs that were big and black, with glowing red eyes.”
I blinked. “Hellhounds?”
“If you believe in them, yeah.”
“Oh, they’re more than real. Tao and I barely survived an attack from a pair of them.” And if Nadler—or whoever he now was—had hellhounds patrolling the area, then he sure as hell was hiding something big.
Which might mean our suspicions were correct. The sorcerer had used the power of the intersection to get onto the gray field and open the first of hell’s portals.
“And just when did this event occur?”
I returned my attention to Jak. “What?”
“Hellhounds. You and Tao. Details, woman, details.”
I waved a hand. “It’s not important right now.”
His growl of frustration practically echoed the one I’d stifled. “But you will fill me in later, won’t you?”
“Maybe.” I lightly bit my lip. “Did you uncover an exact location, or was it more general?”
“Exact. A warehouse on the corner of West and Reeves.”
Which was the other end of the street from Stane. Maybe that was why the consortium had left him and the bar—the only two businesses in the area to remain in private hands—alone.
