"You saw him?" Azriel said quickly, then his gaze narrowed. "No. You only saw an indistinct shape."
"Enough to know it was a man. A tall man." I hesitated, squashing down the instinctive flash of irritation. As he’d said, there was nothing I could do about him accessing my thoughts, so I’d better get used to it. Which was easier thought than done. "It’s a start, at least."
Azriel’s expression suggested that as starts went, it pretty much sucked. "The magic that prevented us from leaving has dissipated. We should go."
"I can’t. I’ll need to report this." Because if I didn’t and Rhoan got wind of it—which he undoubtedly would—then I’d be in deep shit.
Not that I wouldn’t be in deep shit as it was.
I glanced at Lucian. "You’d better leave. There’s no sense in you being here when the Directorate arrives. That’ll only result in hours of questioning."
"And with my workload, that is not something I desire." He sheathed his bloodied long knives and bent to kiss my cheek. "Call me when you’re free and we can plan our next assault."
I nodded. He touched my shoulder lightly, then gave Azriel a somewhat dark look and walked across to the café’s door, opening it with the pick then leaving.
I glanced at Azriel. "Are all the creatures dead?"
He nodded and replaced Valdis. Her blue fire had quieted, even though Amaya still hissed and spat. But flames no longer drenched her blade, and the café was no longer ablaze. So maybe her cry was a reflection of the anger and hurt that still burned inside of me.
"The magic that prevented us from taking our energy forms also smacked of the dark arts," he said. "I suspect the source is the same."
I nodded and wearily pulled out my phone. I eyed it for a few moments, knowing I had to call Uncle Rhoan as soon as possible but, at the same time, wanting to delay the inevitable for as long as I could.
"Who else could be after the damn keys?" I glanced at Azriel. "And why?"
"I cannot answer that."
"But would you, if you could?"