As much as I dislike the idea, it was wise to ask Stanford to prepare for a possible confrontation. Especially if Hunter is capable of the darker arts.
I’m protected against the darker arts, so that’s not so much a concern. I glanced at him as I munched. You, however, are not.
It takes a lot of preparation and power to trap a reaper, he said. But I nevertheless will be cautious.
Good. I finished the rest of the sandwich in quick order, then licked the remaining juices from my fingers and said, Do you think Markel was correct that some of the council still considers me a risk?
Undoubtedly.
Taking me out won’t negate Hunter’s madness.
No. His mental tones were somewhat grim. But it is entirely possible that, given she has just murdered the most vocal of her opponents on the council, those who are neither with her nor against her might believe their only option now is to take out the bigger threat in the equation—and that is Hunter gaining control of the hell portal. The easiest way to do that is to kill you.
I guess. I took a sip of coffee. Surely Hunter will know that’s a possibility, though, and take steps against it.
Perhaps. Perhaps not. His gaze met mine. If there is one thing I have learned in my time here on Earth, it is that human thought processes are not logical at the best of times. When someone has stepped onto the field of insanity, determining what they may or may not think or do is beyond even the ability of the fates to guess.
Meaning we had better watch out for an attack out of left field?
Confusion flickered briefly across his expression. Left field?
I grinned. Yeah, you know, something totally unexpect—
I cut the explanation off as the phone rang yet again. I pulled it from my pocket and hit the Answer button. Stane’s image appeared on the screen, and he looked rather harassed.
I frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“Possibly everything,” he said. “Or possibly nothing. It’s hard to say, but I’m just not liking the feel of things.”
“The feel of what?”
“Events.” He glanced sideways, his gaze narrowing slightly. “I’ve lost all power, the streetlights have gone out, and the street itself has become weirdly quiet. Either I’m becoming paranoid, or something is going on.”
I glanced at Azriel. “Bunker down. We’re coming over.”
“Make it—” He hesitated, and his face went white. “Oh fuck.”
And with that, the screen went dead.
Chapter 10
Azriel didn’t hesitate; he just grabbed my hand and transported us across to Stane’s.
We reappeared in the middle of his upstairs living quarters. The place was both dark and silent. Stane’s computer bridge was lifeless, and the air thick with the smell of fear and something else, something less tangible and oddly pungent . . .
Vampires, Azriel said, drawing Valdis. Her blue fire lifted the shadows, revealing the vamps standing together near the kitchen. Six of them.
It’s not vampires I can smell. It was something else. Something that reminded me vaguely of ash and old newspapers, but possessing an oddly foul chemical undertone. It certainly wasn’t something I’d ever smelled here before. Where’s Stane?
Close.
Alive?
Yes.
Relief cut through me. At least I hadn’t managed to get someone else killed. Why aren’t they attacking? Do you know what they want?
You, of course.