Darkness Unbound

  “Now that we have the pissing contest out of the way, let’s get down to business, shall we?”

  I released the energy and re-formed my hand. The veil of tiredness ran through me. It was going to be a while yet before I could claim that part of me more fully. “You came to me, Hunter, so why don’t you tell me what the hell you want?”

  “I want to help you.”

  I snorted loudly. “Yeah, right. Believing that.” The only thing Hunter was interested in furthering was her own agenda.

  She arched that eyebrow again. “You do not believe that I want to catch your mother’s killer?”

  “Oh, I believe you will place the full might of the Directorate behind it. I just don’t believe that’s what you actually came all the way up here to tell me.”

  “And you’d be right.”

  She uncrossed her arms, then pushed away from the car and walked toward me, every movement economical and yet powerful. Dangerous. She stopped several feet away, her scent teasing the air. It was pleasant enough—until you saw what lay underneath it.

  There was no warmth in her, no lingering vestige of humanity. She was a vampire in thought and deed, and that was all she cared about.

  She might have started the Directorate, but it hadn’t been for humanity’s sake. Rather, it had been little more than a PR exercise for the vampire council.

  If ruthlessness and cunning had a smell, then it would be this woman.

  “You are your mother’s daughter, aren’t you?” she commented. “But you are right, of course. It benefited the council to have humanity protected by a body perceived as separate from the council.”

  Part of me wondered what Rhoan would say to something like that, and whether Jack actually knew he was running a front for the council. But the truth was, it didn’t really matter. Not to me. And I very much suspected it wouldn’t matter to humanity, either, simply because the Directorate did protect them.

  “Director, either tell me why you’re here, or leave.”

  She gave me one of those cool vampire smiles. “I want you to work for me.”

  For me. Not the directorate. Her. “Why?”

  “I believe we could be useful to each other.”

  I paused. “Why would you think I’d in any way want to help the vampire council?”

  “Because you want to find your mother’s killer.”

  “The Directorate has that investigation well under control.” And even if there were very little in the way of leads, I had faith in Uncle Rhoan. If anyone could catch whoever had done this, he could.

  “The Directorate, as efficient as it has proven itself to be at hunting and killing those foolish enough to transgress against humans, has neither the proficiency nor the potency of the high council. Trust me when I say it is like comparing a breeze to a cyclone.”

  “To quote an old, somewhat clichéd saying … I wouldn’t trust you as far as I could throw you.”

  Humor flirted with her lips. I wondered if emotion ever did.

  “Which is most definitely wise. However, I am serious. I want your help, and in return you will have the full services of the council and its Cazadors to hunt down this killer.”

  “Why the hell would I want the help of the Cazadors? They’re little more than leashed murderers, aren’t they?” A fact I knew because Uncle Quinn had once been one. He’d survived the experience, which apparently was rare in that line of work.

  “The Cazadors are the most dangerous and deadly hunters ever created. Once they are unleashed, they will not stop until they bring down and destroy their target. If anyone can find the person or persons behind your mother’s slaughter, it will be them.” She hesitated, and that cold, cool smile twitched her lips again. “They do not have the legal restrictions that the Directorate has.”

  I stared at her for a moment, trying to ignore the chill creeping across my skin, the knot of fear deep inside that suggested even standing here listening to this was a very dangerous thing to do.

  “I can’t give you my father. He doesn’t exist on this plane anymore. His recourse to flesh has been stripped from him.”

  “So you have had contact with him?”

  “Briefly. He didn’t really tell me anything I didn’t already know.”

  If she sensed the lie, she didn’t react to it. “Which means there is the possibility he might contact you in the future.”

  “Maybe.” I shrugged. “So is that all you want me to do? Inform you when my absent parent contacts me?”

  “In part, yes.”

  “And the rest of it?”

  She tilted her head sideways and studied me for a minute. “You are aware, of course, that all three of the dark path’s gates were recently opened?”

  I nodded, then crossed my arms and waited for the rest of it. And tried to ignore the thick knot of apprehension growing in my stomach.

  “Were you also aware that, in the brief time they were open, things came back through?”

  I stared at her, then licked my suddenly dry lips and said, “Things? What sort of things?”

  She shrugged. “Creatures who can gain flesh and walk in this world, and others who maintain spectral form and who can only be seen by those with certain talents.”

  Like mine.

  “I am not a hunter or a killer, nor do I wish to be.” But Azriel was. And if things had come back through the gates, why hadn’t he mentioned it?

  Then again, why would he?

  I was not part of his world. I was just a chore—someone he had to follow against his own wishes and desires.

  Although if things had come through, then it explained why the Mijai were apparently so busy—and why he was so pissed off about having to tag around after me.

  “We would not expect you to kill. We have Cazadors more than capable of doing that.”

  I frowned. “Then what do you want me to do?”

  “Hunt.”

  “No.” It came out automatically. Walking the gray fields to talk to a soul lost or confused was one thing. Hunting an escapee from the bowels of hell was another matter altogether.

  “But what if one of those creatures was responsible for your mother’s death?”

  “It wasn’t.” Again, the response was automatic. And yet, it was a possibility—it was just one I didn’t want to consider. Mom had spent half her life conversing with spirits. I didn’t want to believe one of them had killed her.

  Hunter merely smiled. It was a cold, inhuman thing. “The crime scene was clean. Completely and utterly. There was no DNA, no prints, no evidence of any kind that anyone other than your mother, the housekeeper, and the occasional guest—all of whom have been vetted and cleared—has ever been in that kitchen. The place was not wiped down in any way. There is simply nothing there to indicate who or what might have done this.”

  I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t say anything. Not when she was giving me facts that could only ever lead to a conclusion I didn’t want to believe.

  “The Directorate will never find this killer if it is a spirit, but we can,” Hunter said. “Trust me on that.”

  I stared at her, digesting not so much the words as the unspoken threat behind them. “You would ensure that?”

  She looked surprised that I would even ask such a question. “Of course.”

  “But why?”

  “Because I have always done what must be done to keep my people safe. And these spirits—as well as the people who opened the gates and released them—threaten that.”

  Her people. Not humanity. Not the rest of us. “But you’ve already said you have Cazadors who can hunt spirits, so why do you need me?”

  “We have Cazadors who astral-travel, true, but if we had someone who could walk the fields at will and track down the location of our targets, it would make their job easier.”

  There was a ring of truth to her words, but that didn’t mean I believed them. There was more to this. There were the gates, and the keys, and her desire to control them for the high council’s b
enefit.

  But to achieve any of that, she needed me on her team.

  “The one thing you have to ask yourself, Risa,” she said softly, “is just how desperately you want to find your mother’s killer.”

  I didn’t answer, simply because it was a pointless question. We both already knew the answer.

  “Become an adviser to the council, and I will throw every available resource we have at tracking down those responsible.” She paused, and that cold, cruel smile touched her lips again. “Refuse, and not only will the killer go free, but you will bear some responsibility for whatever destruction hell’s escapees wreak.”

  That wasn’t fair, and we both knew it. But she hadn’t come up here to play fair. She’d come up here to get what she wanted.

  And what she wanted was me.

  It would be madness to accept. Sheer and utter madness. I knew it, but I did it anyway.

  “You betray me, you play me or try to control me in any way, and I will destroy you, Hunter. Whether you believe I can or not.”

  “I will play as fair with you as you play with me.” She held out her hand. “Deal?”

  “Deal,” I said, and clasped her hand. Her flesh was cool against mine, her grip like iron.

  And I knew in that instant I’d made a deal with the devil herself.

  But I didn’t fucking care.

  I had a vow to keep, and a killer to hunt down.

  Vengeance would be mine.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I’d like to thank everyone at Bantam who helped produce this book—especially my editor, Anne; assistant editor, David Pomerico; all the line and copy editors who make sense of my Aussie English; and finally, the cover artist, Juliana Kolesova.

  I’d also like to thank my lovely agent, Miriam, and my mates—Robyn, Mel, Chris, Freya, and Carolyn. And finally, a special thanks to my daughter, Kasey.

  You all rock, ladies.

  If you loved

  Darkness Unbound

  be sure not to miss

  the next thrilling installment of Risa’s story in

  Darkness Rising

  by

  Keri Arthur

  Available in November 2011

  Here’s a special preview:

  THE HOUSE STILL SMELLED OF DEATH.

  Two months had passed since Mom’s murder, but the air still echoed with her agony and I knew if I breathed deep enough, I’d catch the hint of old blood.

  But at least there were no visible reminders. The Directorate’s cleanup team had done a good job of removing the evidence.

  Bile rose up my throat, and I briefly closed my eyes. I’d seen her—had seen what had been done to her—and it haunted me every night in my dreams. But in many ways, those dreams were also responsible for me finally being able to walk through the front door today.

  I’d done enough remembering, and shed enough tears. Now I wanted revenge, and that wasn’t going to happen if I waited for others to hunt down the killers. No, I needed to be a part of it. I needed to do something to help ease the ferocity of the dreams—dreams that came from the guilty knowledge that I should have been there for her. That if I had, I might have been able to prevent this.

  I drew in a deep breath that did little to steady the almost automatic wash of fury, and discovered something else. Her scent still lingered.

  And not just her scent. Everything she’d been, and everything she’d done—all her love and energy and compassion—filled this place with a warmth that still radiated from the very walls.

  For the first time since I’d scattered her ashes in the hills that she’d loved, I smiled.

  She would never entirely be gone from this world. She’d done too much, and helped too many people, for her memory to be erased completely.

  And that was one hell of a legacy.

  Still, despite the echoes of the warmth and love that had once filled these rooms, I had no intention of keeping the house. Not when all I had to do was step into the kitchen to be reminded of everything that had happened.

  I walked along the hallway, my boots echoing on the polished marble floor. Aside from the few items of furniture placed to give prospective buyers an idea of each room’s size and purpose, the house was empty. Mike—who’d been Mom’s financial adviser and was still mine—had made all the arrangements, talking to the real estate people on my behalf and shifting most of the furniture into storage so I could deal with it later. Only the items in the two safes remained untouched, and that was a task only I could handle—although it was the one thing I’d been avoiding until now.

  I drew in a shuddery breath, then slowly climbed the carpeted stairs. Once I reached the landing, I headed for Mom’s bedroom down at the far end of the hall. The air had a disused smell. Maybe the people employed to keep the house spotless until it sold hadn’t been as generous with the deodorizer up here.

  But the soft hint of oranges and sunshine teased my nostrils as I walked into Mom’s bedroom, and just for a moment it felt like she was standing beside me.

  Which was silly, because she’d long since moved on, but my fingers still twitched with the urge to reach for her.

  I walked across the thick carpet and opened the double doors to her wardrobe. Her clothes had already been donated to charity, but somehow seeing this emptiness hit me in a way that the emptiness of the other rooms had not. I’d often played in here as a kid, dressing up in her silkiest gowns and smearing my face—and no doubt said gowns—with her makeup.

  She’d never once been angry. She’d always laughed and joined the fun, even letting me do her face.

  I swiped at the tear that appeared on my cheek and resolutely walked into the bathroom. Most people wouldn’t think of looking for a safe in an en suite, which is exactly why Mom had installed her second one here. This was where she’d stored her most precious jewelry.

  I opened the double doors under the basin and ducked down. The safe was embedded in the wall and visible only because all of Mom’s makeup had been cleared away.

  After typing in the code, I pressed my hand against the reader. Red light flickered across my fingertips; then there was a soft click as the safe opened.

  I took a deep breath, then sat and pulled the door all the way open. Inside were all her favorite items, including the chunky jade bracelet she’d bought the last time she was in New Zealand, only a few weeks before her death. There was also a stack of micro-drive photo disks and, finally, an envelope.

  There was nothing written on the front of the envelope, but faint wisps of orange teased my nostrils as I flipped it over and slid a nail along the edge to open it. Inside was a folded piece of paper that smelled of Mom. I took another, somewhat shaky breath and opened it.

  I’m sorry that I had to leave you in the dark, my darling daughter, it said, and I could almost imagine her saying the words as I read them. Could almost feel her warm breath stirring the hair near my cheek. But I was given little other choice. Besides, I saw my death long ago and knew it was the price I had to pay for having you. I never regretted my choice—not then, and most certainly not now, when that death is at my doorstep. Don’t ever think I accepted my fate placidly. I didn’t. But the cosmos could show me no way out that didn’t also involve your death or Riley’s. Or worse, both of you. In the end, it just had to be.

  Live long, love well, and I will see you in the next life. I love you always. Mom.

  I closed my eyes against the sting of tears. Damn it, I wouldn’t cry again. I wouldn’t.

  But my tear ducts weren’t taking any notice.

  I swiped at the moisture, then sat back on my heels. Oddly enough, I almost felt better. At least now I knew why she’d refused to tell me what was going on. She’d seen my death—and Riley’s—if we’d intervened. And I would have intervened. I mean, she was my mother.

  And as a result, I’d have died.

  Her death still hurt—would always hurt—but a tiny weight seemed to have lifted from my soul.

  I glanced down at the letter in m
y hand, smiling slightly as her scent spun around me, then folded it up again and tucked it into my pocket. That one piece of paper was worth more than anything else in her safe.

  I scooped up the remainder of the jewels, but as I rose, awareness washed over me. Someone—or something—was in the house.

  I was half werewolf, and my senses were keen. Though I hadn’t actually locked the front door, I doubted any humans could have entered without me hearing. Humans tended to walk heavily, even when they were trying to sneak, and with the house almost empty the sound would have echoed. But this invader was as silent as a ghost. And it wasn’t nonhuman, either, because in the midst of awareness came a wash of heat—not body heat, but rather the heat of a powerful presence.

  An Aedh.

  And he was in spirit form rather than physical.

  My pulse skipped, then raced. The last time I’d felt something like this, I’d been in the presence of my father.

  The sensation of power coming up from the floor below was growing stronger. Whoever it was, they were closing in fast. I needed help, and I needed it now. And the only person I could call on so quickly was the one person I was trying to avoid. Azriel—the reaper who was linked to my Chi. I hadn’t heard or seen him since Mom’s death, and part of me had been hoping to keep it that way.

  I should have known fate would have other ideas.

  Of course, Azriel wasn’t just a reaper. He was a Mijai, a dark angel who hunted and killed the things that returned from the depths of hell—or the dark path, as the reapers preferred to call it—to steal from this world.

  But what he hunted now wasn’t a soul stealer or even my soul.

  He—like everyone else—was looking for my father.

  Azriel, I thought silently, not wanting to alert whoever was approaching that I was calling for help. I knew from past experience that Azriel could hear thoughts as well as spoken words. If you’re out there, come fast. There’s an Aedh in the house and it could be my father.

  He didn’t answer; nor did the heat of his presence sting the air. Either he had given up following me or something else was going on.