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“I was hoping for something a little more discreet than that.”
He contemplated the camera for a moment, then said, “Perhaps the woman at the desk can be convinced to turn them off temporarily.”
“I’m sure you could sweet-talk the sun out of the sky if it suited you, reaper.”
He frowned, though amusement creased the corners of his bright eyes. “That is an illogical statement.”
“Which doesn’t mean it’s not true.” I waved a hand. “Go sweet-talk. I’ll wait here.”
He turned and left. I contemplated the battered roller door for several seconds, then turned my attention to the doors on either side. Would it be worth breaking into them on the off chance there was some form of ventilation between the two rooms? In Aedh form I was little more than mist, so even the smallest of cracks would give access. With any sort of luck, the magic that protected Genevieve’s locker was concentrated at the entrance rather than being all-encompassing. A long shot, granted, but surely some sort of luck had to fall our way eventually.
I contemplated the door for a few more seconds, then retreated to the other side of the hall to wait. Azriel returned a few minutes later. “The cameras at either end of this hall have been turned off.”
I pushed away from the wall and handed him my phone. “I’m going to try entry from one of the other lockers. Hopefully, whoever set the spell might not have considered that eventuality.”
“Unlikely. The magic feels encompassing.”
“Meaning floor and ceiling, as well as walls?”
He hesitated. “Oddly, not the floor.”
“Then maybe that will play in our favor.”
“And maybe you just waste your time.”
“Maybe. I’m still going to try.”
“Of course you are.”
He said it with resigned acceptance, and I couldn’t help smiling. Then I took a deep breath, releasing it slowly as I called to the Aedh within me. Despite the sheer level of fatigue that still assailed me, she answered swiftly, and with such force, I gasped. It tore through me, a whirlwind of magic that rendered flesh and muscle and bone apart, until I was little more than particles of energy amassed in the air—a being who could see and hear, but not speak. I turned and headed for the locker to the right of the one registered to Genevieve Sands, sliding in through the small gap between the concrete and in the roller door. The area beyond was dark and crammed full of all sorts of boxes and antique-looking furniture. I swung around, scanning the wall that divided this locker from the other, but couldn’t see anything that might give me access. But if there was going to be a gap, then it would more than likely be where the wall met the floor or roof, not in the actual wall. I rose up but couldn’t see any access points along the joint between the wall and ceiling. Maybe Azriel was right—maybe this was a waste of time. But that didn’t mean I was about to give up—not before I’d checked all options, anyway.
I made my way back down, slipping between a couple of the old boxes that were crammed along the base of the wall. Dust, cobwebs, and god knows what else fell around me, the bits clinging annoyingly to the particles that were my body. It meant that, at best, I’d be as itchy as hell when I re-formed and, at worst, I’d be brushing bits of debris from my skin for days.
There were lots of skeletal bits of spiders and bugs along the joint between wall and floor, as well as flashes of living things that skittered away as I approached them. I’d always thought being in Aedh form meant I was invisible to things that weren’t either energy beings or in some way connected to them, such as the Razan, who were the human slaves of the Raziq. Obviously, I was wrong.
I slipped through another gap between the boxes, but drifted a little too high and caught the edge of the spell protecting the locker on the other side. Energy ran through my particles, a touch of lightning that didn’t actually hurt. But it was warning enough that the spell, while it might not be Aedh specific, would certainly react to my presence if I got too close.
I moved on. As I neared the junction of the inner and outer walls, I finally spotted what I was looking for—a slight crack between the concrete of the wall and the floor. I slithered in.
And found emptiness.
Well, almost.
There was magic here—it rippled through me like a mild summer storm—electric, yet not threatening. But that wasn’t all there was.
Standing in the middle of the room were two upright stones. I’d seen their like once before—in the tunnels Jak and I had found underneath West Street. Those stones had turned out to be a gateway, though it wasn’t one we’d been able to use, so we still had no idea where it went. Maybe these stones were the same.
I approached them cautiously. Warm yellow light—similar in feel to the light that had danced across my fingertips when I’d touched the magic guarding the door—flared between the two pillars, shimmering and swirling softly in the darkness.
When I retreated, the light faded. I studied the stones for a moment longer, then dropped closer to the floor. The magic that protected the walls and ceiling wasn’t evident here. After a moment’s hesitation, I called to the Aedh and changed back to human form.
I was already low to the ground, so the drop onto all fours was a little more elegant than usual. I stayed there for several seconds, breathing deep, waiting for the quivering in my muscles and the fierce ache in my head to ease off. Both were the inevitable result of becoming Aedh—I wasn’t a full blood, and therefore paid a price that few Aedh did. This time, though, the aftereffect was nowhere near as strong or fierce as it usually was. Maybe constant use was making me more adept.
I pushed carefully to my feet, and a cloud of fibers and dust swirled around me. Another casualty of the Aedh shift was my clothes. They disintegrated just fine, but re-forming them was trickier, as the magic didn’t always delineate between bits of me and other particles. And—like the dirt that clung to my atoms when in Aedh form—I often ended up with a dustlike sheen covering my skin rather than fully formed pieces of clothing.
I do not think this course of action wise, Azriel said. His disapproval spun down the mental lines between us, sharp but holding a hint of frustration.
You’re probably right, but we need answers, Azriel, and we’re not going to get them without taking chances.
