Darkness Splintered (Dark Angels 6) - Page 87

“Will do.”

I glanced at Azriel. “In the meantime, we should go search Genevieve Sands’s place. Maybe she hasn’t had the chance to clear it out yet.”

“Unlikely,” Azriel said, his expression grim. “She blew up the storage unit hours after we talked to her, remember. It is doubtful she’d risk remaining in Prahan, given she undoubtedly knows about Stane and his computer skills, thanks to her association with the Aedh.”

“God,” I muttered, “the bastard is dead and he’s still causing us problems.”

“And will no doubt continue to do so until both sorcerers are dealt with.”

Dealt with – the polite way of saying dead. Not that I was, in any way, doubting the necessity of it.

I sighed and walked back to Azriel. “You’ll let us know if you find anything useful,” I said to Stane.

He nodded. “I’ll also check if the autopsy results are ready on the body parts found in the locker. If it was Genevieve Sands, then at least it basically confirms the shifter theory.”

Because it wasn’t Genevieve who’d walked back into that building just before the blast, but a shifter wearing my face. And it was a wonder the police hadn’t contacted me about the events – unless, of course, Uncle Rhoan was running interference with them.

“Draw your sword,” Azriel said, as he caught my hand and tugged me toward him. Valdis was already in his free hand.

“Why?”

“Because she might have more guards waiting in this place.”

I drew Amaya. A high-pitched humming began to flow across the outer reaches of my thoughts as she happily anticipated devouring more shag-pile demons. She really was a bloodthirsty little person.

Not person. Demon. Better.

I grinned as Azriel whisked us across the fields. He released my hand as we re-formed in the middle of a bright and airy hallway, his gaze watchful and blue fire running down Valdis’s steel sides.

The place was silent. The air held an oddly smoky, somehow electrical scent that reminded me of the smell in air just before a thunderstorm, but there was nothing to suggest there was anything or anyone else in this place but the two of us.

“There’s not.” Azriel sheathed Valdis. “Not even her resonance lingers.”

“Something does.” I held on to Amaya and swung around. “It smells like magic.”

“It is, though it does not feel recent or primed to attack.”

“Why would she set a trap in one home, and not the other?” I cautiously walked into the first room off the hallway, my footsteps echoing on the polished floorboards. The double bed had been stripped of linen, and the drawers from the bedside tables had been thrown on top of the mattress, suggesting someone had emptied them in haste. I walked across to the wardrobe and used Amaya’s tip to open the door. It too was empty.

The rest of the house provided a similar story – beds and wardrobes stripped, rooms empty of everything other than large pieces of furniture. Genevieve Sands had taken everything that might have provided us with some sort of clue as to who she really was or where she might now be found.

The sudden urge to scream rolled up my throat, and I had to bite down on my lip to stop it. I sheathed Amaya and walked through the kitchen-diner, heading for the windows that lined the rear of the house. The small garden was immaculately tended and very pretty, filled with roses and other flowering plants. There was no sign of a cuneiform stone, however. Not even a bare spot in the garden to mark where one had once stood. I sighed and rubbed my forehead wearily.

“Another dead end. Just what we needed right now.”

“That is not entirely true,” Azriel said.

I swung around. He was squatting in front of one of the kitchen cabinets, and held up what looked like a torn edge of paper. “It was caught at the back of this cabinet. Obviously, whoever emptied the drawers did so in haste, and did not notice it.”

I walked across. “Does it say anything useful?”

He smiled, though it failed to reach his eyes. “There is some sort of symbol resembling a stylized whirlpool and, underneath, a word that is incomplete because of the tear – Pénom.”

“That has to be Pénombre Manufacturing. It can’t be anything else.” Not in this instance, surely. And that meant we’d finally caught a break, even if only a small one.

“I wouldn’t think so.” Azriel pushed upright. “It also gives us our next target – that warehouse you and Jak discovered.”

I frowned. “But there’s nothing there.”

Tags: Keri Arthur Dark Angels Fantasy
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