Chapter 2
Chapter Two
His words had barely washed over me when I felt it—the dark ooze of a life-form that wasn’t human.
It moved through the glutinous muck with an ease that spoke of familiarity, and made no real sound other than a soft clicking that reminded me of claws on floorboards. It circled around us, getting ever closer to where we lay. Fear surged, and my breath caught in my throat.
A nail scraped the concrete to my left, and my gaze darted that way, briefly catching sight of a scaly, almost bird-like foot with black claws as long as my hand.
My heart was pounding so damn hard, it felt ready to leap from my chest, and it was all I could do to hold in the scream that ripped up my throat.
The stranger’s grip on me tightened, as if in warning, and awareness surged. Of his weight, of his lean but powerful length pressed so intimately against me. Of his smell—warm wood and deep spices, with undernotes that reminded me a little of vanilla but deeper, smokier.
But most of all, I became aware of his silence.
He exuded no energy. No pulse of life. This man, whoever he was, was the island of peace I’d so briefly felt in the warehouse.
Had he been following Monica? Had her father also called in a private contractor to help protect his daughter? If that were the case, though, why the fuck wasn’t he racing through the muck to rescue her? Why was he here, lying on top of me, protecting me from whatever prowled through the shadows?
Not that I was complaining, mind. Aside from the fact I didn’t want to end up as breakfast for whatever the hell that claw-footed creature was, it was rather... nice... having his body pressed so close to mine.
Seriously, Hanna, concentrate on the situation, not the man.
Which was an easy thing to think, but in truth, concentrating on the man made the terror of the situation that much easier to bear.
Another scrape, and the shadows stirred, this time revealing the claw not three inches away from my face. I tensed, not daring to breathe as I waited for it to strike, to tear at flesh, muscle, and bone....
For several achingly long seconds, it didn’t move.
Then the thick black curtain swept in again, and it disappeared.
The soft clicking moved away and faded into nothingness, then the foul wave of energy washed across the night once again.
This time, it held no threat and no sense of increased danger.
Whoever was behind that foulness had left, meaning it was just me, the stranger, and the threatening shadows.
“The curtain should start folding in on itself within the next few minutes,” the stranger whispered, his warm breath dancing delightfully across my right ear and cheek. “Do not move until then, because the whips remain on guard.”
“Who are you?” I replied, perhaps a little more breathily than was warranted. “Why do you know so much about the curtain? And what the hell was that thing stalking us?”
“That thing was a comp demon,” he replied. “As for the rest of it—well, I walk in the same world.”
And with that, his weight lifted from my body, and he disappeared. There were no trailing shadows, no sense of movement. No magic, even. He was simply gone.
The urge to jump up and run after him was so damn strong that I tucked my arms under me and half pushed up.
The movement stirred the rapidly fading shadows, and a dark whip struck at my face, cutting the cheek that still tingled from the warmth of the stranger’s breath, drawing blood. I stopped and waited, as ordered.
It seemed to take forever for the curtain to fully fade.
As the last shadowy whip disappeared, the sound of approaching sirens suddenly sharpened, suggesting the curtain had also dampened external sound.
I pushed fully upright, brushed the grit and dust from my clothes and stomach, then looked around for my shoes, finding them several yards away.
After slipping them back on, I walked on, gaze scanning the empty mall, looking for any clue as to what had happened to Monica.
There was no sign of a struggle, and the few spell fragments still floating on the light breeze spoke of clean energy rather than darker, which was odd given the greater amount of foul-feeling spells that had been cast.
It only strengthened the feeling that something was off—something other than the whole operation going tits up—though if anyone had asked me why right there and then, I couldn’t have said what.
The earwig began vibrating, meaning Jack was trying to get hold of me.
I ignored him and walked over to the area that held the brightest cluster of spell fragments.
While nearly all witches could see them, we Kangs could often get some sense of the caster through the remnants’ resonance.
I tugged off a glove then carefully raised a hand and let them play across my fingers; no matter what Monica’s voice had implied, these tiny blips of fading energy spoke of determination and exhilaration rather than outrage and fear, and that was just another ill-fitting piece in the puzzle.
The earwig buzzed again. I swore yet again and finally acknowledged it.
“What’s happened?” Jack asked immediately. “You’ve been basically stationary for the last five minutes.”
It had been that long? It had certainly felt like forever at the time, but I’d figured that was due more to a combination of the situation and my own fear.
“We were attacked.”
“By whom?”
“That is the great unknown.”
“And Monica?”
“Has disappeared.”
“Kidnapped?”
“Likely. I can’t say for certain, because I was swamped by a foul black fog in which some kind of black-clawed demon hunted.”
There was a long pause. “Seriously?”
“Yeah.” In the passing gleam of a car’s headlights, I caught sight of a thick silver chain hanging over the edge of the nearby rubbish bin.
I walked over, discovered it was Monica’s purse, and quickly opened it up.
It held cash, credit cards, and tampons, but little else.
“Her handbag has been dumped, but her phone’s not here so she might still have it on her. You able to trace it?”
“It was turned off just before she left the venue, so I’ll have to contact the service provider to get its IMEI number.”
“What the hell is an IMEI number?”
“It stands for International Mobile Equipment Identity number, a unique fifteen-digit serial number given to every device,” he replied. “They’re stored in an equipment identity register, so once we get the number, we can trace the phone, even when it’s powered off.”
Which was far more information than I really wanted to know. “Did you call in the cops? Because it sounds like they’re heading this way.”
“I did, because they could get there faster than anyone else.”
Anyone else being the Brisbane investigators, who were likely all tucked up in bed at this hour. I’d love to be doing nothing more than crawling into bed myself right now, but that was unlikely to happen for the next few hours, at the very least.
“And the forensics team?”
“On their way. You’ll need to brief them when they arrive so they can more precisely target areas of interest.”
“Except there’s not much in the way of evidence left to target, either physical or magical.”
“They specialize in spell traces as well as the regular stuff. They’ll find what you and I can’t.”
Suggesting he didn’t know Kangs could garner all sorts of information about a caster from their spell’s energy. “What about the High Council investigators? Have they been notified as yet?”
“At this point, no.”
Surprise rippled through me. “Why not?”
“I have no idea. I only have orders.”
“Who from? Lowell?” Because if he had ordered that, he was an idiot, especially given who her dad was.
“No, it came from higher up.”
Meaning Canberra—perhaps even Sophie herself. Maybe I needed to ring my brother and ask him what the fuck was going on. “That makes no sense.”
“This whole organization often makes no sense.”
With that I could not disagree. “Once I’ve updated forensics, I’ll head back to the warehouse and see what the bridesmaids have to say for themselves.”
“Lowell wants you back tonight for an audit.”
A groan escaped. An audit basically meant undergoing an “interview” by both a truth seeker and auditor.
The former was basically a telepathic projector, who used both magic and telepathy to connect to an individual’s memories, scan all relevant information, and then physically display it while questions were asked and answered.
An auditor recorded the session and ensured everything being done was aboveboard and legal.
It was a pain-in-the-ass process, but it did at least mean that if charges were laid against an individual rather than being privately dealt with by the Society, the accuracy of the information garnered could not be challenged in the courtroom, thanks to the fact all readers and auditors had to be registered with, and approved by, the High Council.
While I understood the necessity of doing them, there was no need to do it tonight.
Five or six hours of sleep wasn’t going to change my memories of events in any way.
Unless, of course, a telepath got in there and scrambled them, and if that was what Lowell was worried about, then he knew more about this case than he was saying.
“Surely that can wait till the morn—”
“He just said it surely can’t,” Jack cut in wryly.
Meaning he was monitoring our conversation—maybe even in the room with Jack. Just as well I hadn’t let my mouth run away with me. I scrubbed a hand wearily across my face. “You want to send me the forensics team’s deets? Just so I can be sure they are who they say they are?”
“You’re not a very trusting soul, are you?”
“Considering someone in the know obviously informed Monica about the tracer in her purse and the fact we were shadowing her, I think I have every reason not to be.”
“I do see your point. Hang on a sec.” The soft sound of humming briefly filled the line, then my phone pinged. “Okay, sent.”
“Got it. Thanks. Any update on Ginny?”