Normally, sitting here listening to someone else getting sexed would have had lust surging through my veins, but in this atmosphere, it was little more than ashes from which no fire could be raised.
As the sounds in the other room began to ramp up to a climax, the howling of the ghosts became so sharp and bitter that I had to cover my ears with my hands. But even that failed to lessen the impact. It was a sound that tore through the fabric of my being, until it felt like I was unraveling.
And then something else began to creep into the atmosphere. It was an ill wind, dark and twisted, barely there at first, but gathering in strength as the feeding in the room drew closer to culmination and the howls and screams of the ghosts got stronger and louder.
And they weren't the only ones. Amaya was hissing fiercely, her fury filling my mind, her need to rent and tear so strong, I had to dig my nails into my hands to resist the urge to run out into that room and kill everyone.
Because it wasn't just ghosts, a blood whore, and a vampire out there now.
The Rakshasa had finally answered the desperation of the ghosts.
Chapter 8
Azriel, I thought, you'd better get your ass back here right now, because I am not facing this thing alone.
But I drew Amaya regardless. She slipped eagerly into my hand, the lilac fire dripping from her black edges sizzling as it splattered across the floor.
Then energy of a different kind swept around me and, a heartbeat later, Azriel appeared. Valdis was drawn, her blade running with blue electricity. The fires of the two blades filled the small room with light and, in the other room, that gathering of dark energy began to fade.
"It has sensed my arrival and retreats to the gray fields," Azriel said. "Quickly."
And with that, he disappeared. I swore, sat down, and closed my eyes. I didn't bother reaching for calm, didn't bother to center myself. I simply wrenched my soul free from my flesh and flung myself onto the fields. For a moment everything spun around me, a whirl of gray that had my stomach churning and my pulse rate shooting through the roof. Or maybe that was simply fear.
The Dušan exploded from my arm, her lilac form quickly gaining flesh and shape, until she seemed so real that I wanted to reach out and touch her. She swirled around me, the wind of her body buffeting mine as her sharp ebony gaze scanned the fields surrounding us. I wondered if she sensed the Rakshasa, or if she was merely reacting to the knot of fear growing in the pit of my stomach.
I spun around, my gaze searching the silvery plains. But there was nothing; no one was here. Then I remembered what Azriel had said—if spirits traversed the fields, it was only via the paene. I'd come too far into the fields.
I dove for the shadowy pide between the fields and the real world, and spotted it. The Rakshasa was a boiling, writhing mass of dark gray that almost merged into the mist that was this part of the fields. And it was quickly receding into the distance.
Azriel was easier to find—he was a blaze of sunlight in this ghostly otherworld, a force whose very presence throbbed through my being. He was closer to the creature than I was, but nowhere near close enough.