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“With that, I can wholly agree.” I raised a hand to shake some of the dust and soot from my hair but stopped when I caught sight of my fingers. Blood coated them. Blood that had come from inside a chest and an exploding heart.
My stomach rose and I spun, sprinting for the bathroom. I barely made it. When I’d lost absolutely everything I’d only just eaten, I flushed the toilet, then thoroughly washed my hands with soap and hot water. Once there wasn’t a scrap of blood to be seen—not even under my fingernails—I grabbed a cup from the shelf above the basin and rinsed out my mouth.
Azriel stood in the doorway, arms crossed and one shoulder resting on the doorframe as he watched me.
“You really need to stop regurgitating everything you eat,” he stated eventually. “That is good for neither you nor our child.”
“If the bad guys would stop attacking us—and therefore making me do things I’d rather not do to defend myself—then I might have a chance.” I glanced in the mirror, realized I was still wearing my fake face, and swiftly changed it back. It didn’t actually make my reflection look any better—I was still far too gaunt, and the bags under my eyes had definitely gotten bigger. I sighed and turned away. It wasn’t like I could do a whole lot to fix either problem right now. “Did you include Hunter in your telepathic broadcast to the council?”
He hesitated. “I sent it to all those that vampire had access to. Whether Hunter is one of those, I could not say.”
“Then I’m going to ring the bitch and tell her what has just happened.”
“Do you think that’s wise?” he asked. “After all, there is that saying about not prodding a sleeping bear. I think it would apply in this case.”
I half smiled. “It normally would, but I think we’re better off letting Hunter know about events.”
“I doubt that she would be unaware of them, given she has Cazadors tracking us astrally.”
“Maybe, but I’d still like to impress on her the fact that she needs me alive if she wants the fucking key, so it would be in her best interests to stop the council from sanctioning another attack.”
“I do not think it’ll make a great deal of difference, but there’s no harm in trying.”
I reached into my pocket to grab my phone, only to discover it was little more than metal and plastic bits. I swore softly. In the rush to protect myself and fight, I’d forgotten that any electronics not touching skin would be destroyed by the Aedh magic rather than simply dismantled, then put back together.
Stane had a phone, though . . . Stane. Fuck. “Have you managed to pinpoint Stane’s location yet?”
Azriel shook his head. “As I said, he is near and alive. I suspect, given that I cannot get any true sense of his location, that he might be underground somewhere.”
“How can he be underground when we’re up on the first floor? The vampires would have come through the ground floor, and there’s no other exit.”
“That we’re aware of. That doesn’t mean there isn’t another one. Stane is nothing if not clever.”
True. And given he dealt on a regular basis with some very shady characters, it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility for him to have some sort of panic room. It would also explain why his phone signal had so suddenly cut off. Cell services were notoriously unreliable when it came to anything underground, like the rail loop, or even sewerage tunnels. Not that I really had firsthand experience of the latter, but if Stane did have a bolt-hole, then he undoubtedly also had an escape route out of said bolt-hole. And there were plenty of decommissioned sewer and utilities tunnels running underneath most parts of Melbourne.
I glanced around but couldn’t immediately see anything that screamed “hidey-hole”—which was the whole point of a panic room, really. But knowing Stane’s love of technology, it was doubtful that he’d be anywhere without some method of knowing what was going on above him.
“Stane?” I said, voice loud. “It’s safe to come out if you want to.”
There was no immediate response, but after several minutes there was a soft hiss, and part of the floor under his computer desk dropped down an inch and slid to one side. Two hands appeared, and with very little ceremony, Stane hauled himself back into the room.
“Fuck,” he said, face red and beaded with sweat. “That was more unpleasant than I remembered.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You’ve used your bolt-hole before?”
“Hell yeah.” He grabbed his desk with one hand and pulled himself upright. “You can’t play the black market game without occasionally hitting trouble. It’s been a few years, though, and I think I might have put on a bit of weight since I had it installed. Things were a little tight.”
“Better tight than you getting dead,” I said.
“Oh, definitely.” He plonked down on his chair, his expression grim. “So what did those bastards want with me?”
“Well, not you, for a start. They wanted me and were merely using you as bait.”
He glanced at the sprays and puddles of blood that decorated his living area. There were no bodies; even the vampire Azriel had decapitated had disappeared. I very much suspected Valdis’s fire had taken care of them while I was in the bathroom puking my guts out.
“It obviously didn’t go well for them,” Stane commented.
“No.” I glanced at the darkened bridge behind him. “How come you haven’t got a backup generator installed?”
