“I’m here to talk about the problem with your prison in the aether,” he said.
It was the only prison of its type, a jail without bars or stone. It floated within the aether, that ephemeral substance connecting earth and the afterworlds—known to mortals as
the heavens and hells of their religions. It was between here and nowhere, and as such was impossible for him to manipulate. Only the witches had access because they had created the prison.
“We’re working on it. Right now, in fact. And you’re going to screw it up. Come back tomorrow.”
“Now.” Warren’s voice rumbled.
The witch squinted, glowering. “Tomorrow. We’re in the middle of a containment spell. You’re going to screw us up. We’re trying to shore up the boundaries and you’re messing with our concentration. Come back tomorrow.”
Warren frowned, but the seriousness of her voice penetrated. A flash of light bursting from the windows convinced him. If they were doing what they could, he wouldn’t interfere.
For now.
“Tomorrow,” he said.
She slammed the little slot in the door shut.
Warren heaved a frustrated sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. A huge part of him wanted Aurora to be released so that he could hunt her and retrieve his soul. No. The risk to others was too great if she was released. She could aetherwalk away from the university as soon as she escaped, free to wreak havoc anywhere she chose. There was no telling how long it’d take him to find her, or what she could do in the interim. He’d made a vow to protect others when he’d joined the Praesidium. Serving his own selfish needs at the expense of the safety of others was not an option.
He met Cadan’s worried eyes. “We’re done here.”
Cadan nodded. “Come on, let me buy you a pint. Work day’s almost over.”
“Thanks, but nay. Go back to your Diana.”
“I’ve got time. She’ll be in the library for another couple of hours.”
Warren liked Cadan’s woman, an American scholar who was the reincarnate of Boudica. But his friend would be happier with her this evening, no matter how much he protested. Warren was shite company right now.
“I’ve got some things to take care of. Give my best to Diana.” He clapped Cadan on the shoulder, then spun and strode away, desperate to get some space and clear his head.
The possibility that Aurora might escape made his skin feel like it was stretched too tight over his muscles. He felt trapped in his own body, torn between duty and possibility. He spun on his heel, changing direction and heading to his house instead of back to his office. All he needed was some space.
He told himself he’d do the right thing by seeing to it that she stayed in prison.
But he couldn’t say if he believed it.
CHAPTER TWO
“It’s a freaking miserable night to be hunting rogues,” Esha Connor whispered to Chairman Meow, her feline familiar.
They crept silently through the darkened tunnels of the Edinburgh underground, each dodging the deepest puddles in the worn dirt floor. Unrelenting rain had leaked through the porous ceiling, which was actually the street above, and Esha could feel the Chairman’s foul mood. It matched her own, which was the reason she’d leapt at the job to kill the rogue demon who’d been lurking down here.
She caught sight of a cluster of remnant shadows to her left and gave them a wide berth. Shadows of old evil that lingered after the death of the evildoer were thick down in the underground—one of the reasons Edinburgh was considered the most haunted city in Europe. She could have banished the shadows, but the shadows were relatively harmless and any magical activity might alert her prey.
Anyway, she kind of liked Edinburgh’s reputation.
A soft rustling noise made Esha and the Chairman freeze. Esha squinted into the darkness, knowing the Chairman did the same. She hadn’t wanted to alert the demon to her presence before they managed to find him, so she carried no light.
Instead, she instinctively followed her connection with her familiar, whose night vision was far better. But the Chairman was antsy in the unusual damp of the underground, and her skin almost crawled in empathetic annoyance.
It was turning out to be a shitty night.
The rustling grew louder and the smell more rank. Like dead bodies and misery. She covered her mouth and nose with the sleeve of her shirt. The Chairman crowded up against her legs. With a tinge of dread, she held out her right hand and willed a bright fireball into existence in her palm.
“Ugh,” she said at the sight of her prey.