Darkness Unbound

  “I figured as much. What’s up?”

  She sighed, and I instantly knew what that meant. My stomach twisted and I closed my eyes, wishing away the words I knew were coming.

  But it didn’t work. It never worked.

  “I have another client who wants your help.” She said it softly, without inflection. She knew how much I hated hospitals.

  “Mom—”

  “It’s a little girl, Ris. Otherwise I wouldn’t ask you. Not so soon after the last time.”

  I took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. The last time had been a teenager whose bones had pretty much been pulverized in a car accident. He’d been on life support for weeks, with no sign of brain activity, and the doctors had finally advised his parents to turn off the machine and let him pass over. Naturally enough, his parents had been reluctant, clinging to the belief that he was still there, that there was still hope.

  Mom couldn’t tell them that. But I could.

  Yet it had meant going into the hospital, immersing myself in the dying and the dead and the heat of the reapers. I hated it. It always seemed like I was losing a piece of myself.

  But more than that, I hated facing the grief of the parents when—if—I had to tell them that their loved ones were long gone.

  “What happened to her?”

  If it was an accident, if it was a repeat of the teenager and the parents were looking for a miracle, then I could beg off. It wouldn’t be easy, but neither was walking into that hospital.

  “She went in with a fever, fell into a coma, and hasn’t woken up. They have her on life support at the moment.”

  “Do they know why?” I asked the question almost desperately, torn between wanting to help a little girl caught in the twilight realms between life and death and the serious need not to go into that place.

  “No. She had the flu and was dehydrated, which is why she was originally admitted. The doctors have run every test imaginable and have come up with nothing.” Mom hesitated. “Please, Ris. Her mother is a longtime client.”

  My mom knew precisely which buttons to push. I loved her to death, but god, there were some days I wished I could simply ignore her.

  “Which hospital is she in?”

  “The Children’s.”

  I blew out a breath. “I’ll head there now.”

  “You can’t. Not until eight,” Mom said heavily. “They’re not allowing anyone but family outside of visiting hours.”

  Great. Two hours to wait. Two hours to dread what I was being asked to do.

  “Okay. But no more for a while after this. Please?”

  “Deal.” There was no pleasure in her voice. No victory. She might push my buttons to get what she wanted, but she also knew how much these trips took out of me. “Come back home afterward and I’ll make you breakfast.”

  “I can’t.” I scrubbed my eyes and resisted the sudden impulse to yawn. “I’ve been working at the restaurant all night and I really need some sleep. Send me the details about her parents and the ward number, and I’ll give you a buzz once I’ve been to see her.”

  “Good. Are you still up for our lunch on Thursday?”

  I smiled. Thursday lunch had been something of a ritual for my entire life. My mom and Aunt Riley—who wasn’t really an aunt, but a good friend of Mom’s who’d taken me under her wing and basically spoiled me rotten since birth—had been meeting at the same restaurant for over twenty-five years. They had, in fact, recently purchased it to prevent it from being torn down to make way for apartments. Almost nothing got in the way of their ritual—and certainly not a multimillion-dollar investment company.

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  “Good. See you then. Love you.”

  I smiled and said, “But not as much as I love you.”

  The words had become something of a ritual at the end of our phone calls, but I never took them for granted. I’d seen far too many people over the years trying to get in contact with the departed just so they could say the words they’d never said in life.

  I hit the END button then shoved the phone back into my pocket. As I did so, it began to chime the song “Witchy Woman”—an indicator that Mom had already sent the requested information via text. Obviously, she’d had it ready to go. I shook my head and didn’t bother looking at it. I needed to wash the grime of work away and get some sustenance in my belly before I faced dealing with that little girl in the hospital.

  I shoved my helmet on then fired up the bike. The vibration through the metal told me she’d come to life, but there was little noise. Hydrogen bikes ran so silently that when they’d first become commercially viable, state laws had required manufacturers to add a fake-engine-noise device to warn people of their approach. That law was still in existence, but these days it was rarely enforced—mainly because people had a greater worry. Air bikes—or air blades, as they were officially called—were becoming more prevalent, but given the laws that restricted them to low-level airspace, pedestrians had more chance of losing their heads to a blade than being run over by a bike.

  I wasn’t a huge fan of the air blades, which in my opinion were little more than jet-powered skateboards. I preferred the feel of metal and the vibration of power between my thighs, and the exhilaration and sense of control that riding a bike gave. Blades were all about the danger. Riding them was akin to riding a wild horse that could buck you off at any moment.

  Besides, I liked the option of being able to put my feet on the ground when I needed to.

  I rolled out of the parking lot, and the old metal gates automatically closed behind me. The traffic on Pelham Street was already beginning to build, but I weaved in and out of the cars without effort, and was cruising down Punt Road toward Richmond in very little time.

  I slowed as I neared my place. This part of Richmond was mostly pretty little Victorians, but scattered in among them were newer buildings and converted warehouses. My place was one of the latter—a big, square, two-story monstrosity whose bland gray exterior belied the beauty of its internal space. I’d bought and renovated it with two friends—the same two friends who co-owned RYT’s (which stood for “rich young things”) with me.

  As I swung into Lennox Street, the sensor attached to the bike flashed, and the building’s roller door began to open. I drove inside, seeing Ilianna’s somewhat battered Jeep Wrangler but not Tao’s vivid red Ferrari. I hoped it meant he was actually on his way to work rather than in someone’s bed, having forgotten once again that it was his turn to work the morning shift. Not that the staff couldn’t cope without him—mornings tended to be the slowest of the three shifts. Nights were the worst—or rather, the hours between one and five, when wolves hungry after a long night of loving at the clubs sought a different kind of sustenance. RYT’s was one of a handful of Lygon Street restaurants licensed to be open twenty-four hours a day, and its gourmet hamburger and pizza menu was proving a huge success. Of course, it helped that Tao was a brilliant chef—when we could actually get him into the kitchen, that was.

  I parked my bike next to my more mundane—and little used—Toyota SUV, then killed the engine and kicked the stand into place. I took off my helmet and dropped it onto a nearby hook, then shook out my hair to unscrunch my ponytail as I headed for the stairs. The door at the top was a thick metal alloy that was both fire- and bulletproof. Ilianna had insisted on both it and the accompanying eye-scanning security system. Despite the fact that between boarding school, university, and the restaurant, she’d now lived in the city for a good part of her life, she still didn’t feel entirely safe here. I guess there was some truth to the old saying that you could take the mare out of the country, but not the country out of the mare.

  I looked into the little scanner. Red light swept across my retina; a second later, the locks tumbled and the door slid silently open. The smell of roses hit almost immediately and my nose wrinkled. I might be half Aedh and half Helki werewolf—with little in the way of true wolf capabilities—but I did have a wolf?
??s sensitive olfactory sense, which was why I didn’t often wear perfume.

  This wasn’t perfume, however. It was far too strong.

  I shrugged off my backpack and jacket, tossing both onto the nearest leather sofa as I walked across the huge, carpeted expanse that was our living room. The fans—big industrial things that went with the vaulted, metal-framed ceiling—were on full, creating a wind strong enough to tug the hair out of my ponytail. It said a lot about the strength of the rose scent that the fans weren’t shifting it.

  Gentle humming drifted from the kitchen, accompanied by the clink of metal against glass. I shook my head, knowing that sound—and that song—all too well. Ilianna was brewing potions in the kitchen again.

  I stopped in the doorway, crossing my arms as I leaned a shoulder against the frame. Ilianna—a tall, strapping woman with a thick mane of pale hair and dark golden skin—stood near the stove, scooping out the contents of a bubbling pot and pouring it into long, thin, lilac-colored bottles.

  “So what is it this time?” I asked, amusement in my voice. “A potion for the lovelorn, or the promise of passion?”

  “Neither,” she said, her voice low and sexy—the sort of voice that would make her a fortune if she ever decided to go into the phone-sex business. “We’re off to the Healesville market this weekend. They love the harmony and peace potions up there, so I need to stock up.”

  They loved them because the damn things worked. I briefly touched the simple leather strap that held the charm currently nestled between my breasts. I’d been sixteen when she’d finally convinced me that I couldn’t continue to walk the gray fields unaided. The charm she’d made me had been little more than a small piece of petrified wood, to connect me to the earth, and two small agate and serpentine stones for protection, but it had still saved my life when a spirit had attacked me on the gray fields. I’d been wearing it ever since.

  “Is this the last of the lot?”

  “Yes.” She glanced at me then, her green eyes startling against the dark gold of her skin. “Sorry about the smell. I thought you’d be off to the hospital already.”

  I smiled. Not only was Ilianna a powerful witch, but she—like my mom, and sometimes like me—was clairvoyant. We’d all met at a school that had catered strictly to the offspring of rich nonhumans, and Ilianna, Tao, and I had been the misfits—the strange kids who could do things we shouldn’t have been able to. Tao and I had the additional stigma of being half-breeds—although at least both he and Ilianna were able to take on their alternative forms. Alone we’d been vulnerable, but together we’d been safe. So the three of us had stayed together all through school and into our working lives. I couldn’t actually imagine my life without Ilianna or Tao.

  “Visiting hours don’t start until eight. I thought I’d come home to shower and change first.”

  She nodded and returned her attention to her bottling. The rose scent sharpened every time she dipped the ladle into the bubbling mixture, perfuming the air with not only its scent but also an odd sense of tranquility.

  “A parcel came for you last night,” she said. “The delivery guy was a little weird.”

  My eyebrows rose. “Weird how?”

  She glanced briefly at me, nose wrinkling. “He reminded me of a rat. You know, beady-eyed and furtive.”

  I laughed. “Maybe he was a rat.” There were rat shifters, after all—even if they tended to keep to themselves rather than mix with other shifters and humans, like most nonhumans did.

  “Yeah, I know, but he didn’t feel like a shifter. He felt like something else. Something more.” She shrugged, as if it didn’t matter, but the mere fact that she’d mentioned it suggested otherwise.

  “Was the security system on?”

  She gave me a look, and I knew that was a dumb question. If Ilianna was home alone, then the security system was on.

  “I’ll check him out.” Although I wasn’t entirely sure what good it would do. Rat-faced or not, he’d come and gone. “Is the parcel that cookbook I ordered for Tao?”

  “I didn’t open it, but it looks like it. It’s the right shape. I left it on your dresser.” She dropped the ladle into the pot, then reached for the bag of corks on the shelf above her head. “I ordered the cake. It should be here for dinner tomorrow.” She paused, then looked over her shoulder at me. “Make sure you are.”

  I frowned, an odd sense of tension tightening my limbs. “It’s Tao’s birthday. You know I wouldn’t miss that.”

  And yet she was warning me not to. Which meant she’d sensed something on the wind. Something that meant trouble.

  The image of the sword-carrying reaper rose like a ghost, and I shivered.

  “I know. It’s just—” She paused and shrugged.

  “Ilianna, just spit it out. What are you seeing?”

  “I’m not seeing anything, that’s the trouble.” She glanced at me again, her expression concerned. “I’m just sensing an unease in the air. Something is brewing, Ris, and it’s going to hit us hard if we’re not careful.”

  Then we’ll be careful, I wanted to say, but I resisted the impulse. It was too flippant, and I’d known Ilianna too long to treat her warnings that lightly.

  “Then maybe you need to start working on some more protection charms,” I said. “Better to be safe than sorry.”

  She nodded. “Next on the list. Not that Tao will want anything to do with them.”

  But only because Tao believed he was more than able to protect himself. And given that he—like his human mother—was a fire-starter of incredible strength, he was probably right. I pushed away from the door frame. “Is Mirri coming over tomorrow night?”

  Mirri was Ilianna’s lover, a mare she’d met at some creativity and love festival she’d gone to a year ago. She wasn’t a witch in the sense that Ilianna was, but she was a pagan. And like many mares, she was bisexual, whereas Ilianna was desperately trying to keep the fact she was a lesbian under wraps. Especially from her family.

  “No. She’s working night shifts at the moment.”

  I nodded. Mirri was a midwife, and was currently working in the Royal Women’s natural birthing center. “Do you know that Tao is hoping to seduce her if you two ever break up?”

  Ilianna laughed—a deep, throaty sound that tugged a smile across my lips. “I know. He’s hopeless when it comes to women. I seriously doubt if there’s been one he hasn’t lusted after.”

  “He’s not so hopeless when it comes to seduction, let me tell you.” The man, quite literally, was dynamite. In bed and out.

  She quirked an eyebrow, her amusement evident. “I thought you’d stopped going down that path.”

  “I have. Sort of.”

  “Meaning that when your date book is empty and you’re feeling horny, he’s more than ready to float your boat?” She shook her head. “How can a woman who looks as hot as you not have a man around to cater to her more earthy needs? What is wrong with the men of this city?”

  “This is a question I ask myself constantly.” I grabbed a mandarin from the fruit basket and began peeling it. I actually wanted something more substantial than fruit, but given the task I’d soon be facing, I wasn’t sure my stomach was up to it. “Have you got that meeting with Mike this afternoon?”

  Mike was our accountant and a good friend of my mom’s, having handled her considerable finances for well over twenty years. He was also, as far as I could tell, her lover—although that was a passion both of them kept well hidden. I was pretty sure the desire for secrecy was coming from Mike rather than Mom, because she never hid anything from me, not even her lovers. But I’d never questioned her about it, simply because it was her life and her decision. That hadn’t stopped me from asking Aunt Riley, but she was as in the dark about it as I was.

  “Yeah, Tao’s going to cover the first part of my shift.” She glanced at me again. “If you want a shower, you’d better go. The water will shut off in ten minutes.”

  My eyes widened as I popped a slice of mandarin into my m
outh, and she smiled. “A car’s about to hit a hydrant and the water will have to be shut off temporarily. But don’t worry, no one gets hurt.”

  “Damn, it’s handy having a witch as a best friend. Thanks.”

  She nodded and started her humming again, happily corking her pretty bottles of harmony potion. I spun on my heel, eating the rest of the mandarin as I headed for my bathroom. We each had our own and, like all the other rooms in this place, they were oversized, with each one containing a massive spa bath, a double walk-in shower, and a big basin. In mine, the oversized white wall tiles contrasted sharply against the warm black slate under my feet. I stripped off, dumping my clothes into the chute that would suck them down into the auto washer-dryer system we’d installed a few months ago.

  Mod cons are us, I thought with a smile as I stepped into the shower and the water automatically came on at just the right temperature. Sometimes, there were benefits to being obscenely rich, and one of those was never having to battle with the water temperature or do the laundry. I hated washing and ironing—something I’d picked up from my aunt, according to my mom. Of course, she also blamed Riley for my Coca-Cola addiction, but I honestly think I was born with that. I liked to joke that if I cut one of my veins open, it’d bleed fizzy brown liquid rather than blood.

  Once I’d showered, dried, and brushed my hair, I padded into my bedroom. Again it was huge, but it didn’t really look it, thanks to the rich violet on the walls. According to Ilianna, purple was a comforting and a spiritual color—one that generated mystery and tuned intuition. I’d picked it simply because I loved the color. It matched my eyes and contrasted wonderfully with my silver-blond hair.

  I walked into the wardrobe and got dressed, donning faded, well-worn jeans and a wool sweater as well as grabbing spares to wear later, knowing I’d have to change once I left the hospital. The smell of the dead and the dying always seemed to cling to my clothing.

  I slipped on my boots, then grabbed my watch from the bedside table and glanced at the time. It wasn’t much after seven, but if I took the long way around to the Children’s, I’d probably get there a little after seven thirty. I might be able to get in to see the little girl then.