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.”
“There will be something there, but it is possible it can only be accessed via magical means.”
“Which doesn’t do us much fucking good, given neither of us is capable of magic.”
“No, but it is still worth checking. Magic lingers here, which suggests its use was recent. If she did not use it to set a trap, what, then, did she do?”
“I have no idea.” I flared my nostrils and drew in the electric scent again. There was an odd sense of energy and movement in its undertones and I frowned. “Maybe it was some sort of transport spell.”
“Which is why we should check that warehouse. Perhaps the only way to reach whatever secrets that place holds is via the use of such a spell.”
“Which still isn’t going to help us.”
“No, but if the scent lingers there as it does here, then perhaps we could uncover her den via more practical means.”
He held out a hand, and in a matter of seconds we were inside the empty warehouse. It was pitch black and the air still and cold. Moonlight filtered in through the grimy windows, but its cool light did little more than puddle around the area immediately underneath them. I stepped away from Azriel and drew in the scents. Magic lingered, as he’d predicted.
He drew Valdis. Flames burned down her sides, casting a bright light around us but throwing deeper shadows beyond it. “Where?”
I glanced at him. “You can’t sense it?”
“I can, but its feel is too faint to pinpoint.” He half shrugged. “In this case, the nose of a werewolf is infinitely more capable of tracking than a Mijai untrained in magic.”
“Half wolf,” I corrected, and slowly turned, trying to define from which direction the scent was the strongest.
“But full wolf where it counts.”
I raised my eyebrows and shot him a glance. “Oh yeah? And just where would that be, reaper?”
“Your senses,” he replied, voice bland but amusement dancing in his eyes. “What else would I have meant?”
“What else indeed.” Smiling, I returned my attention to the scent. It seemed to be the strongest from the area near the stairs that led up to the next floor.
I walked across, and cast around to see if I could pinpoint a particular area the scent seemed to be coming from. After a moment, I ducked under the metal steps and bent down. The concrete here was smooth and unmarked. There was absolutely nothing that would indicate anything lay underneath it.
“There wouldn’t be, given magic is used to enter and exit.” Azriel squatted beside me and rested Valdis on the concrete.
“Becoming Aedh would be pointless, because I can’t move through solid objects. What about you?”
He shook his head. “I need a point of reference to transfer anywhere here, be it a soul or an image. Up until now, I’ve basically been accessing your memories or knowledge, but you have not been into whatever lies below so I do not have the required information.”
I swore softly. “If we break in, she’s going to know we’re onto her.”
“She’s well aware of that already. She would not have retreated otherwise.”
“Yeah, but neither she nor the other sorcerer is aware that we know about this place.”
“True.” Sparks flew from Valdis’s tip, hitting the concrete with sharp little hisses. An echo of her master’s frustration, perhaps. “We have two choices – breach the concrete, or turn around and walk away.”
“We haven’t got time to walk away.” Or rather, Mirri didn’t. I drew Amaya, then added, “Go for it.”