Darkness Falls(31)

“I was wondering when you’d get around to me,” he said, a smile touching his lips but little in the way of amusement in his eyes.

“I need to talk to you ASAP.”

“Don’t bother, because I have no intention—”

“It’s not about that,” I cut in, not wanting him to say too much in case it wasn’t Markel astrally following us about. The Cazadors generally weren’t able to track our movements through the gray fields, but they would have heard me mentioning going to the Directorate and might already be here. Traveling on the astral field was as simple and as easy as traveling via reaper. “Well, not entirely. I need your help.”

“Where are you?”

“Just about to enter the Directorate foyer.”

“I’ll be down in a minute.”

The screen went dead. I shoved my phone away and stepped through the Directorate’s main entrance. Pale blue light swept my length as I did so, the only visible indication of the vast array of scanners installed in this place. They all had one purpose—to protect those within. Not even a gnat could get into the Directorate without security being aware of it, let alone anyone armed with some form of weapon—be it metal, plastic, or laser. Of course, there wasn’t a sensor in the world capable of detecting the presence of our swords.

Naturally, Amaya commented, her mental tones haughty. Superior we are.

A point with which I couldn’t disagree. Even so, I couldn’t help saying, At least the weapons of this world don’t scream at inopportune moments.

Problems theirs, she said. No point in not screaming. It scares more than steel.

I guessed that was another point I couldn’t argue with. I walked over to the comfy chairs situated to one side of the foyer and sat, legs crossed, to wait for Uncle Rhoan.

Security frowned at us. “Can I help you, miss?”

“It’s all right, Mac,” Rhoan said, as he came around the corner. In the foyer’s light, his red hair gleamed like fire. “These two are here at my request.”

I rose and walked toward him. His sharp gray gaze briefly swept me. “You really need to get some rest in the next twenty-four hours. You look like shit.”

“Well, thanks.” I kissed his cheeks. “It’s good to see you, too.”

He half smiled, but it didn’t lift the seriousness in his eyes. “I mean it. You can’t keep running on empty, Ris. It won’t do anyone any good.” His gaze moved beyond me, and he made a slight nod of acknowledgment. “Nice to see you, reaper.”

See? I am not the only one who notices these things, Azriel said, even as he said out loud, “And you.”

Rhoan’s gaze returned to mine. “What’s the problem?”

“I prefer it if we were somewhere secure. Too many possible listeners hanging about out in the open.”

“The Directorate’s foyer has more antilistening devices than most secure offices could even dream of.” But his gaze flickered briefly beyond me, and I knew then he’d caught my meaning. “But if it would make you feel better, come along.”

He swung around and led us to the lifts. No one spoke as we headed down into the true heart of the Directorate. The ten levels aboveground might be the public face of the Directorate, but it was here, in the five stories underground, where the guardians were housed and trained, and where the liaisons—the people who filed the guardians’ reports, who catered to their everyday needs, and who gave them their assignments—operated.

The lift came to a halt and the doors slid open. The thick smell of vampire swept in, but underneath it ran the sweeter scent of shifters. Once upon a time, this section of the Directorate had operated mainly at night, simply because most guardians had been vampires. But over the last fifteen years or so, more shifters and psychics had been employed to cover daytime operations.

Rhoan led us through a maze of halls, then finally stopped and slapped his palm against a scanner. The door slid open. He stepped to one side and waved me in. The room was small and sparsely furnished, with little more than a coffee machine and a table that had half a dozen chairs scattered around it. It was also a room protected by magic. It caressed my skin, a touch that was warm and yet filled with power. It wasn’t as strong or as ancient as the force that protected the Brindle, but it wasn’t something anyone sane would want to mess around with.

“Okay,” Rhoan said, heading for the coffee machine. “What’s the problem?”

“Our sorceress just blew up a rather expensive Sydney apartment—”

“Which undoubtedly explains the torn state of your clothing and the smell of smoke,” he cut in. “I gather the bomb was meant for whoever owns the apartment, rather than you?”

“We think so,” I said. “It didn’t detonate until we deactivated the security system.”

Rhoan punched several buttons on the coffee machine, then said, “How did you survive the blast?”

“We were in energy form, so it simply blew us out rather than up. We were lucky.”