I glanced at Azriel. He merely shrugged and said, "The only way to know is to try it, and you’ll have to forgive my reluctance to volunteer. I do prefer my flesh as it currently is."
So did I, I thought, and felt heat touch my cheeks as he glanced my way. Damn my recalcitrant thoughts to hell. I cleared my throat and glanced at the three amber vials. "And these?"
"Holy water. Use it sparingly—you don’t need a lot for it to be effective."
"Okay." I shoved the stake in my belt, then carefully placed the little vials in various pockets. "I’m not sure how long this is going to take, but if you don’t hear from me by midnight, contact the Brindle for directions, then call Aunt Riley and let her know what’s happening."
Ilianna nodded and gave me a quick hug. "Be careful, okay?"
I nodded, although it wasn’t like I deliberately threw myself into danger. It just happened. Sort of like night following day, I suppose.
I gave Mirri a quick kiss on the cheek, then added, "Sorry for the interruption. Next time I’ll call ahead."
She snorted. "I’ve been a part of this little family for long enough to know that you never phone ahead. There is an imp inside you, Risa Jones, that occasionally loves to upset the apple cart."
I grinned, but I couldn’t deny the fact that I sometimes did take great delight in doing the unexpected.
"And that," Azriel said, his voice clear and bemused as we headed down the stairs, "might be more than a little frustrating, but it could also be your one saving grace."
I glanced at him. "Meaning?"
"Meaning that doing the unexpected has so far kept us one step ahead of the Raziq. Here’s hoping it continues to work."
"Amen to that," I muttered. But even as I said it, I couldn’t help thinking that, sooner or later, our luck would run out.
Mount Macedon was about forty miles outside Melbourne, so it took me a little under an hour to get up there. Dusk was settling in by the time I turned onto the rough-looking dirt road that apparently led to the sacred site—although to call it a road was something of a misnomer. Goat track was more apt.
I slowed considerably, avoiding the worst of the ruts and gunning through the ones I couldn’t, splashing muddy water all over the bike and myself. The steep, tree-lined mountainside seemed to close in around me, filled with shadows and an odd sense of watchfulness, almost as if the trees were sentient.