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“That would depend on what lies behind the hidden door and whether the magic that protects it also interferes with my ability to sense souls.” He pressed his fingers against my spine and guided me toward the stairs. “We may yet find either Mike or our sorceress here.”
I snorted softly. “Do you really think it’s going to be that easy?”
“No, but one can always hope.”
We went through the end office—the one the farthest away from the trapdoor Jak and I had fallen through during our first visit—and moved into the deeper darkness of the main warehouse. The roof here soared high above us and was snaked with metal lines and some sort of conveyer system. The windows lining the left side of the room were so thick with dirt that very little outside light seeped in, and on the right side, there were several small, rubbish- and rat-filled offices. The concrete floor was stained with rust lines and thick with grime.
Azriel drew Valdis. Her flames flared across the shadows, making it easier to traverse the s
pace, especially in the end third of the building, where the sludge from the old machines was thickest and as slippery as hell.
I briefly wondered where the ghost of the woman who’d led me to the hidden doorway was. I couldn’t sense her presence anywhere near, but maybe she was simply keeping watch now that there was no immediate danger.
We reached the inky wall that protected the stairwell down into the basement. I led Azriel around to the two-foot-square doorway Rozelle had woven into the sorceress’s magic and crawled through. Magic immediately hit me, but its feel was clean, pure, caressing my skin rather than attacking me.
The witches were still at work on that door.
I grabbed the metal railing and made my way down to the basement. It was a cavernous space, all concrete, and filled with lines of dust-laden, somewhat rusty metal shelving—all of which were empty. Whatever the inky barrier was protecting, it wasn’t this particular area.
I led the way through the shelving. Rozelle turned around as we approached. She was tall and pretty and looked all of twenty. Given that most witches didn’t usually begin training to be masters—which was what she was doing at the Brindle—until they were at least thirty, she’d either become very proficient at a very early age, or she was much older than she looked. I suspected the former, if only because Kiandra had placed a lot of faith in her.
“We’re almost through,” she said. Though her eyes were bright with excitement, her skin looked pale and the droop in her shoulders suggested weariness. “The spell protecting this entrance is nothing any of us has ever seen before. It’s been quite a learning curve unpicking all the interwoven threads.”
I glanced past her. Six witches sat within a protection circle in front of the section of wall that held the hidden doorway. The crisp, clear magic that rolled across my senses was emanating from them, but underneath it, I could still feel the caress of the sorceress’s dark and oddly dirty magic. But it was an energy that was flickering, fading, fast.
I returned my gaze to Rozelle. “So whatever the magic is protecting, it’s something our dark sorceress cares about greatly.”
Rozelle nodded. “We suspect it could be her ritual room. There is no other reason for a spell of this intricacy.”
“And if it is?”
“We destroy it. She will undoubtedly have other, minor rooms she could use to cast spells, but the loss of this one, situated as it is on a main ley-line intersection, will severely curtail her ability to create major blood magic.”
I frowned. “Why? Couldn’t she just make another one somewhere else?”
Rozelle shook her head. “Blood magic is a difficult and dangerous art, and it cannot be performed any old where. It would have taken her years to set up her ritual space so that she was secure and well protected from the forces she is summoning.”
“If that’s the case, why isn’t she here, protecting this place with everything she has?”
Rozelle’s cheeks dimpled. “Because we are not without some skill ourselves. She has not attacked because, as far as she is aware, this place is as safe and as secure as it ever was.”
“Using magic to counter magic. Nice.”
“We thought so.” She turned to face the circle, her gaze narrowing. “It shouldn’t be too long.”
“Do you think there will be any sort of spell or trap inside?”
“Possibly. We’ll ensure it’s safe to enter before anyone does so.” She glanced past me. “But in case it is protected by something more mundane than a spell, I would have your sword ready, reaper.”
Azriel didn’t comment, but Valdis’s flames flared brighter. Surprisingly, Amaya had nothing to say about being left out of the possible killing spree, but maybe she was merely waiting to see whether there was something worth attacking before she started complaining.
In the brief silence, there was a loud crack, and a doorway-sized section of the concrete wall began to shimmer, waver, fading in and out of existence and providing tantalizing glimpses of a rusted metal door. The flickering got faster, more violent, as if the magic that concealed the door was fighting back. Then, with a sigh rather than a bang, it bled away, and the solid metal door was revealed in its entirety.
I instinctively took a step forward, anxious to see what might lie beyond the door, but Rozelle grabbed my hand, stopping me from going any farther.
“Wait,” she said. “We’re not finished yet.”
I took a deep breath and tried to curb the impatience that rattled through me. We were dealing with a dark sorceress’s lair, and god knew how many traps might wait inside. But that still didn’t stop the need to get in there, to know whether Mike was just a lackey or our shape-shifting sorceress himself.
