Darkness Unmasked

“It’s worth a shot.” There were tears in Mirri’s dark eyes. “You don’t think something bad has happened to her, do you?”



“No.” I gave her a reassuring smile and hoped it didn’t look as forced as it felt. “I’m sure it’s just something dumb—like her phone running out of charge and her car breaking down.”



A tremulous half smile touched her lips. “She does have a habit of letting her phone run out of charge.”



“Yeah, she does.” But rarely to complete emptiness. “We’ll find her, Mirri. I promise you.”



“Let me know the minute you hear or find anything.”



“I will.”



She hung up. I pocketed my phone, then glanced at Azriel. “I don’t suppose you could do a sweep and see if you could find her.”



“I’ll try.” He studied me for a moment. “What do you plan to do?”



“Go to the Brindle, as I said. I vaguely remember Ilianna saying her mom was on night shift this week, so I can kill two birds with one stone.” My stomach tightened as the words left my mouth. Damn it, she wasn’t dead. I’d know. Surely to god I’d know. I hesitated, then added, voice a little hoarse, “If she were dead, would you know?”



“No.” He hesitated. “But I could find out if you wish.”



“That would be good. Thanks.”



He nodded and disappeared. I took another of those calming breaths that did jack all to calm, then called to the Aedh and got the hell out of there. I left the Ducati where she was—right then, I didn’t particularly care if Rhoan saw it or not. All that mattered was getting to the Brindle and talking to Ilianna’s mom. If anything had happened to her, surely she’d be the one person who would know.



I zoomed through the night with all the speed I could muster, reaching the Brindle in record time. I shifted shape, splatted with my usual inelegance onto the carefully manicured lawn in front of the building, then thrust to my feet and pulled the remnants of my clothes into some semblance of order as I ran for the front steps.



The Brindle was a white, four-story building that had once been a part of the Old Treasury complex. It had been built in the Victorian era and was both beautiful and grand in design. It wasn’t until you neared the steps and felt a tingling caress of energy against your skin that you realized this place was very different from its brethren. It was the home of all witch knowledge, and it was protected by a veil of power so strong that it snatched away the breath of those who were sensitive to these things. I’d never considered myself overly sensitive to magic, but I’d always been aware of it. This time, though, the feeling was weirdly different. It wasn’t just awareness—it felt like the power of this place was alive. Fingers of energy crawled across my skin, its touch sharp, electric. It made my flesh itch—crawl—and almost felt as if it were testing me. The Brindle didn’t suffer evil to enter, but it had never troubled me in any way before.



So why the change? Did it have anything to do with the key quest or what the Raziq had done to me?



Possibly. And yet Kiandra—who was the head witch at the Brindle—had told me that as powerful as the magic around the Brindle was, it could not stop the Aedh from entering. Logically, therefore, it shouldn’t be able to stop me. But then, I wasn’t full Aedh. I was both flesh and energy.



That will change, an inner voice whispered darkly.



I shivered, but thrust the odd premonition out of my mind and took the steps two at a time. The huge—almost medieval-looking—wood and wrought-iron doors had been closed for the night, so I walked to the left side of the massive entrance and pulled the discreet cord. Deep inside the building, a bell chimed. I waited, and after a few minutes, footsteps approached. One door opened, revealing a brown-haired, slender, tunic-clad figure. It wasn’t someone I’d met before.



“I’m sorry, but we’re closed for the night.” Her voice was soft, gentle. Raised voices were rarely used in this place of power.



“I know, but I need to speak to Custodian Zaira, please.” I hesitated. “It’s urgent.”



“I’m not sure that she’s here—”



“Then check,” I cut in. Then, at the flash of annoyance that crossed her face, added, “Please. Tell her it’s Risa Jones, and it really is important.”



Her gaze swept me assessingly; then she nodded and closed the door. I listened to the retreat of her footsteps and wondered whether she was simply walking away or doing what I asked. After a few minutes, I heard her talking. Misplaced mistrust, I thought, and gave myself a mental slap. After a few minutes, she returned and opened the door, wider this time.



“Zaira has agreed to see you. Please, come in.”



“Thank you.”



I stepped through the doorway. The foyer wasn’t exactly inviting, even in the daylight, but at night, its sheer size seemed to weigh on the shadows, so that they almost appeared to loom over me. It was a weird sensation—almost as if the walls themselves were standing in judgment of not only me, but all those who walked past.



I very much suspected I would be found severely wanting. At least at the moment.



“This way,” the woman said softly.



She led the way down the long hall. The energy of this place was so strong that every step was accompanied by a spray of golden sparks. The old-fashioned electric sconces threw just enough light to ensure we didn’t run into the walls, but they did little to otherwise lift the shadows.



The young witch led me into the visitors’ waiting room, told me to wait, then went through the door behind the small desk and closed it firmly behind her. I knew from previous visits that you didn’t get past this area without either a witch escort or special dispensation from Kiandra, but I was a little surprised at being held here this time. I’d have thought Ilianna’s mom would have been here given I’d mentioned it was urgent.



That she wasn’t probably meant we were all panicking over nothing.



No, that dratted inner voice whispered, you’re not.



I crossed my arms and began to pace. Several minutes crawled by, ratcheting up my tension and frustration. When footsteps echoed in the hall outside, I swung around and all but ran out—and almost collided with Ilianna’s mom in the process. Only quick reactions on her part kept us both upright.



“Risa,” she said, her soft tones holding a hint of surprise and perhaps amusement. “This is not a place where speed is required.”



I took a deep breath and tried to calm down. “I know, and I’m sorry.”



She nodded. Ilianna had inherited her palomino coloring and her shifting abilities from her dad, as Zaira was human. But Ilianna had the same powerful green eyes as her mom and right now they’d narrowed considerably. “What can I help you with?”



“Two things.” I hesitated, but there was no easy way to say it, so I just came straight out with it. “First off, we think something has happened to Ilianna.”



Zaira frowned. “Mirri called earlier looking for her, but I didn’t get the impression that she was in any way worried.”



Then Mirri was better at containing her concern than I was. “I know. But Ilianna hasn’t turned up for her date with Carwyn, and we can’t get her on the phone.”



The older woman smiled, although there was a slight edge of tension emanating from her now. “Well, given she isn’t too pleased about our matchmaking efforts, her standing him up again is not entirely surprising.”



I was shaking my head before she’d even finished. “Not this time. Mirri said she was determined to talk to him about the match.”



“Talk him out of it, you mean,” she said. But the tension in her ratcheted up several more notches. She studied me for a moment, then abruptly turned and walked away.



“Come along, child,” she said over her shoulder, when I didn’t immediately follow.



I hurriedly caught up. “I was hoping you could do a scrying or location spell for her.”



“A location spell won’t work.” She opened a door and walked into another dark hall. “She learned to divert such spells at a very early age.”



There was an odd mix of annoyance and pride in her voice. I half smiled. “How young?”



She hesitated. “She was twelve. Even at that age it was evident she was very gifted.”



“So why wasn’t she ever asked to become a custodian?”



Our footsteps beat a sharp tattoo against the marble floor, and the sound echoed in the hushed shadows that surrounded us. I half wondered if we’d wake anyone up. I knew from past experience that there were at least two dozen witches staying here at any one time, some of them permanent residents like Kiandra, and some, like Ilianna’s mother, here only when rostered on for duty.



Zaira turned left at the end of the hall and started up some stairs. Lights flickered on as we approached, then went dark once we’d passed, and there wasn’t a sensor to be seen.



Zaira gave me a quick but nevertheless shrewd glance over her shoulder. “She did begin training as a custodian, but her tenure was brief.”



I knew that. I also knew she’d seen something that scared the hell out of her. “She has mentioned that, but she’s never said why she left.”



“No, she would not.” We entered another hall. For a moment I thought that was the end of the conversation, but she surprised me by adding, “This place, and all the wisdom it holds, is not only protected by magic, but sometimes by steel and bloodshed. Ilianna witnessed a latter event and was too young to understand the necessity.”



“She’s not too young now.”



“No.” There was a smile in her voice. “But she is incredibly stubborn. I fear she will not come back to us until Kiandra leaves.”



Meaning Kiandra was the one who had done the bloodshed, obviously. Still, it was odd. Ilianna wasn’t the squeamish type; nor was she illogical. And she was certainly more than capable of understanding the necessity to sometimes use force to protect what was, basically, the spiritual home of witches here in Australia. There had to be more to the story.