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No, I thought, swallowing heavily against the bile rising up my throat. She hadn’t disappeared. She was somewhere. It was just somewhere Mirri couldn’t find.
“What about the hospitals?” As much as I hoped she hadn’t been hurt, it was always a possibility, and certainly one we had to consider before we pressed the panic button too far.
“Also checked. Nothing.”
At least that was something. I took a quivering breath and released it slowly. “I’ll find her, Mirri.” I hesitated. “What about Carwyn?”
“He’s here with me at the restaurant. He’s got a friend in the police force he’s going to hit up for any information that might come through official lines.”
If it came through police sources, then it wouldn’t be good. But Mirri knew that just as well as I did. “I’ve got to go across to the Brindle, so I’ll talk to Ilianna’s mom. Maybe she can scry for her or something.”
“It’s worth a shot.” There were tears in Mirri’s dark eyes. “You don’t think something bad has happened to her, do you?”
“No.” I gave her a reassuring smile and hoped it didn’t look as forced as it felt. “I’m sure it’s just something dumb—like her phone running out of charge and her car breaking down.”
A tremulous half smile touched her lips. “She does have a habit of letting her phone run out of charge.”
“Yeah, she does.” But rarely to complete emptiness. “We’ll find her, Mirri. I promise you.”
“Let me know the minute you hear or find anything.”
“I will.”
She hung up. I pocketed my phone, then glanced at Azriel. “I don’t suppose you could do a sweep and see if you could find her.”
“I’ll try.” He studied me for a moment. “What do you plan to do?”
“Go to the Brindle, as I said. I vaguely remember Ilianna saying her mom was on night shift this week, so I can kill two birds with one stone.” My stomach tightened as the words left my mouth. Damn it, she wasn’t dead. I’d know. Surely to god I’d know. I hesitated, then added, voice a little hoarse, “If she were dead, would you know?”
“No.” He hesitated. “But I could find out if you wish.”
“That would be good. Thanks.”
He nodded and disappeared. I took another of those calming breaths that did jack all to calm, then called to the Aedh and got the hell out of there. I left the Ducati where she was—right then, I didn’t particularly care if Rhoan saw it or not. All that mattered was getting to the Brindle and talking to Ilianna’s mom. If anything had happened to her, surely she’d be the one person who would know.
I zoomed through the night with all the speed I could muster, reaching the Brindle in record time. I shifted shape, splatted with my usual inelegance onto the carefully manicured lawn in front of the building, then thrust to my feet and pulled the remnants of my clothes into some semblance of order as I ran for the front steps.
The Brindle was a white, four-story building that had once been a part of the Old Treasury complex. It had been built in the Victorian era and was both beautiful and grand in design. It wasn’t until you neared the steps and felt a tingling caress of energy against your skin that you realized this place was very different from its brethren. It was the home of all witch knowledge, and it was protected by a veil of power so strong that it snatched away the breath of those who were sensitive to these things. I’d never considered myself overly sensitive to magic, but I’d always been aware of it. This time, though, the feeling was weirdly different. It wasn’t just awareness—it felt like the power of this place was alive. Fingers of energy crawled across my skin, its touch sharp, electric. It made my flesh itch—crawl—and almost felt as if it were testing me. The Brindle didn’t suffer evil to enter, but it had never troubled me in any way before.
So why the change? Did it have anything to do with the key quest or what the Raziq had done to me?
Possibly. And yet Kiandra—who was the head witch at the Brindle—had told me that as powerful as the magic around the Brindle was, it could not stop the Aedh from entering. Logically, therefore, it shouldn’t be able to stop me. But then, I wasn’t full Aedh. I was both flesh and energy.
That will change, an inner voice whispered darkly.
I shivered, but thrust the odd premonition out of my mind and took the steps two at a time. The huge—almost medieval-looking—wood and wrought-iron doors had been closed for the night, so I walked to the left side of the massive entrance and pulled the discreet cord. Deep inside the building, a bell chimed. I waited, and after a few minutes, footsteps approached. One door opened, revealing a brown-haired, slender, tunic-clad figure. It wasn’t someone I’d met before.
“I’m sorry, but we’re closed for the night.” Her voice was soft, gentle. Raised voices were rarely used in this place of power.
“I know, but I need to speak to Custodian Zaira, please.” I hesitated. “It’s urgent.”
“I’m not sure that she’s here—”
“Then check,” I cut in. Then, at the flash of annoyance that crossed her face, added, “Please. Tell her it’s Risa Jones, and it really is important.”
Her gaze swept me assessingly; then she nodded and closed the door. I listened to the retreat of her footsteps and wondered whether she was simply walking away or doing what I asked. After a few minutes, I heard her talking. Misplaced mistrust, I thought, and gave myself a mental slap. After a few minutes, she returned and opened the door, wider this time.
“Zaira has agreed to see you. Please, come in.”
