Bloodring

Chapter 10

Footsteps crashed at the mouth of the alley. I whipped halfway to my feet. Audric stood there, bare chested, framed in the opening like a black godling staring down the mouth of hell. A katana longsword and a wakazashi shortsword were crossed at groin level. A fighting stance. In an instant, I drew on my drained amulets to blank my skin, damped my mage-sight, and dropped back to the alley. Melted snow soaked into my pants. My indoor shoes were dripping. Shivers gripped hard in the aftermath of adrenaline loss. I was freezing, skin aching, teeth chattering.

Knees flexed, Audric advanced at an angle, allowing him a partial view of the street behind, repositioning the longsword to cover the entrance as he moved. He inspected the length of the alley, the wet cobblestones even now freezing over, the rock wall exploded out, revealing the webbing of ancient wood slaths. He looked at me.

I gathered up the gray cloth that had been tossed over Rupert. It carried the reek of Darkness in the smear of blood, and my hands ached when I touched it, but I balled it up and tucked it beneath my tunic as I helped Rupert to sit. He was groggy, confused, and the bruise at his temple was a rising lump.

A screech of wood echoed in the alley and voices sounded from above. Audric lifted the katana as if to ward off attack, before instantly lowering both weapons and hiding them along the lengths of his legs. Over our heads, two mostly bald octogenarians started speaking at once. "You folks okay?"

"That wall jist fell right on out."

"Dang, woman, I see it."

"I tolt you that wall needed attention. The mortar was rotten. Now them people are hurt. You folks need a medic?"

"Yeah, you tolt me. You always telling me something or other."

"Rupert?" When he shook his head, I said, "We're fine. No one's hurt. But your wall needs repair." Actually, it now needed to be replaced, but I didn't point that out.

"Fine, then. Glad you're all okay. And we got us a son what's a stonemason. You change your mind, you need help, you bang on the shop door at front." The couple, still bickering about the mortar, lowered the window with a second screech. Only after the window closed did I recognize the proprietors of the bakery. It was the bakery's wall I had destroyed. I scented yeast and fresh bread on the morning air.

Audric relaxed his stance and rested his weapons as he advanced the rest of the way to us. His skin was puckered with cold, steam radiating off his chest. "Rupert? Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Woozy." He braced his arms and looked down his body. "I'm all wet. What happened to the snow?"

"Thorn happened."

The blood in my veins froze. What had Audric seen? He hadn't been here—

"The wall can be rationalized, but we need to get you two away from this spot before anyone notices the melt. Can you walk?"

"Sure. Help me up." Rupert raised his hand.

Audric slid the wakazashi into his belt and lifted Rupert. I stood up alone. "Audric—"

"Not now."

"Yeah. Later." Much later. Like never, maybe? The swords disappeared into the folds of Audric's pants leg for the short walk. No one looked out a window to see two wet and wretched people and one nearly naked man. It was as if we moved beneath a cloak of invisibility or as if the light of the rising sun bent around us and vanished.

Heat blasted us as we entered Thorn's Gems. I shuddered hard, slipping off my shoes. My feet were so cold even the floor felt heated.

"Get dry and warm," Audric ordered. I ran upstairs and locked myself in. What had he seen? What had Audric meant when he said, Thorn happened? I unsheathed my blade, recoiling at the stink on the steel. Wiping it hadn't removed the microscopic traces of blood.

Mage-fast, hoping to generate body heat, I pulled a bag of salt to me, one that had been used often, mostly to close circles of power, and plunged the mage-made steel into the bag. Brimstone burned my nose as the blood was cleansed. When I pulled the blade free, salt clung to the cutting edge. I held it beneath springwater in the sink as the final traces of blood were neutralized. I quickly opened a bottle of lightweight oil and wiped down the blade. It needed more attention, but the oil would hold it temporarily. To remove traces of spelled blood from the sheath, I poured salt inside and touched a little-used amulet at my neck. There was barely enough strength left in the stone to clean the inside of the walking stick. When I banged the sheath, pouring the salt down the sink, it had grayed, losing its savor.

The smell of evil was still in the cloth the attackers left behind. I could use it to track them. I could use it to scry. And so could they to me. It wasn't safe to keep or use.

I knelt and turned the fireplace flames up high. With my ceremonial knife, I cut the fabric, removing the bloodiest sections, and tossed the contaminated cloth on the flames. The stink would rise and be swept away by winter winds. Let them try and track it to me. It wouldn't be possible unless they had planned well in advance. The stink of evil wafted up the chimney.

The rest of the cloth, still tainted but less powerful, wasn't something that could be tracked easily, though I smelled brimstone and knew it contained traces of blood. I stuffed it into a stone jar, sealed the top, and wedged it into the bag of salt. It was effectively insulated until I needed it. No one could track it, not through the salt. I marked the bag with a black X.

Only then did I strip out of the wet clothes, hanging them in front of the fireplace to dry, re-dressing in warm underleggings and slacks. I wore navy this time, which wouldn't clash too badly with the teal tunic and ocean-toned scarf. My hair was mussed and I braided it hastily. I was shaking. A pale glow seeped from my skin.

My amulets were almost barren. I had panicked and drawn on them, all of them, wasting their power. I was shaking with after-battle fatigue, cold, even after moving with heat-generating speed. I was too drained to restore both the amulets and myself. Audric had seen me glow.

Because tainted salt wouldn't affect every incantation, I picked up the salt marked TRUTH/LUST and formed a small circle on the kitchen floor, not bothering to move the table, but sitting half under it in my exhaustion. I didn't have the resources to call on the power of the deeps, or to fight the temptation to steal power and force for my own if I did. So I settled on recharging the amulets I needed most.

Neomage amulets can be set up as empty vessels waiting for any incantation one might need, as if formatting a hard crystal disc for information storage. Or they can be adapted with a permanent matrix, as if an incantation or computer program is permanently etched in the crystal matrix of the stone or shell or whatever is used to hold the conjure. Such amulets are preprogrammed for only one purpose and can be refilled after each use. The latter version of amulet making is time-consuming, requiring several days, sometimes even several mages, to make one, but they hold an incantation and the power needed to fuel it much better.

Most of my amulets are the latter sort. I live alone. I require greater protection than a neomage living in Enclave, and when blizzards blow in, isolating us for days at a time, I have the freedom to make them. In Enclave, a mage might have hundreds of lesser amulets, each charged for a different use. To keep my secret, I made do with a few major ones. I dropped my necklace of amulets at my ashen blue toes with a clatter. My feet were an agony, but I could immerse them in warm water later.

With an effort of will, I called up mage-sight and added the last of the salt, closing the circle with a soft pop. The loft glowed, but dimly, as my own depleted forces dulled my perception of other energies. Too tired to think, I tried to pull energy from beneath my feet. Instead, a seductive lavender heat throbbed at me, pulsing power that soothed and enchanted. The amethyst in the storeroom.

It flowed up my body like a lover finally allowed an intimacy, heating my chilled limbs, even my frozen feet, my aching hands. Too fatigued to refuse the easy lure of such readily available power, I let it touch me, a sultry warmth. I didn't have to pull in the energy; it simply flowed in, like my own blood returned to me, my own strength, power, and life force. It quickly restored my strength, heated my cold body, then passed into the amulets at my pinkening toes. As I watched, my mage-sight swirling lavender and gold with tints of fuchsia, the stone in the stockroom recharged my amulets: the fish that held my shield, the elephant carrying the basic charmed circle, the black-and-green-jade bear that was keyed to mute my physical neomage attributes, the larger bear I called on when I needed power from the deeps for some crisis, the cougar carved from red brecciated jasper that offered the glamour I had hidden beneath at the Salvage and Mineral Swap Meet, others. Usually I required a whole day of intense recharging to achieve such restoration, and another two days to fill the amulets. Drawing on the amethyst, I was renewed in minutes, the amulets only a few minutes later. And still the power flowed, as if begging me to take it, so tempting.

I should stop. There was something wrong with all this power so easily given. But I was empty, empty to a bone-cold depth. So I yielded and filled all the empty amulets in the loft. All the stones that protected and served me. I drew in enough excess energy to recharge the bloodstone hilt of my walking stick. And then a bit more. Just a bit, to warm me, feeling myself expand to contain it.

Immediately I was unsteady, mentally inebriated, physically nauseous. It was more than a psychic reaction. A lot more. My skin, muscles, torso, felt heated, engorged. I swallowed heavily and put out a hand to stabilize myself. I had pulled in too much, yet the amethyst energies still demanded to be used, an external pressure. A faint headache started, my blood beating with an irregular cadence of pain. When I looked around, my loft was a bower of blissful might, pulsing with color as if I could see the energies of every atom.

A knock sounded. I groaned. It had to be Rupert and Audric. With a sick moan I shut down my receptors and broke the protective ring, kicking aside the salt. Wavering as if drunk, I blanked my skin, tied the amulets beneath my tunic, called out that I was coming, and swept up the salt, dumping it into its bag. Movement made me want to throw up. Yeah, I was drunk, as drunk as a skunk, power drunk. I heard myself giggle and stifled it.

Taking up the walking stick, I felt power flowing through the bloodstone hilt, deep within the stone's crystal matrix. The handle was a prime amulet, one of two Lolo charged to my genetic code the week after I was born. After I damaged the other one, the bloodstone handle was my best defense. Barefoot, warm, I walked to the door and opened it.

Audric was alone, dressed in a loose and flowing black martial uniform, a scarlet belt of status tied, just so, at his waist, his blades at rest, hilts toward the floor. Though many humans practiced the art form and fighting techniques, I hadn't known he was a practitioner of savage-chi and savage-blade until I saw him in the alley only minutes ago. Now it seemed he not only wanted me to know, he wanted to grind my face in the fact that he was a master. His dark eyes met mine from his great height, and when he spoke, his tone was formal. "Are you well?"

His words held a hidden meaning. Thorn happened. He had seen my flesh in the alley, had to know I was a supernat. But did he know what kind? I sighed. "You want to talk here or downstairs? " My way of asking who knew besides him.

"Here. Rupert is cleaning up. Jacey has an early customer."

I stood aside and he entered, his bulk dwarfing me. Audric was bigger than the kylen. A lot bigger. "Who were they?" he asked.

"I never saw them before. They were waiting in the alley." As I talked, I moved to my armoire and pulled on a pair of socks, planning my story. "When Rupert reached the mouth of the alley, they rushed him. Threw a cloth over him and he was gone before I could blink. I grabbed my walking stick—because it was the only thing resembling a weapon—and ran after them. I bumped one into the wall and hit the other with the stick several times. They dropped Rupert and the wall fell. Probably because its mortar was rotten and the guy hitting it dislodged enough to…" At the expression on his face, I let my words fall silent.

Audric's gaze was deep, grave, with the Zen-like silence of his training. And something more. Prickles traced up my spine, helping dispel the sense of drunkenness. Thorn happened. I gave up the pretense and dropped onto my cushy couch, pulling up my feet and wrapping my arms around my knees, a defenseless pose, but with my walking stick secured between knees and chest, blade loosed. And I still had the kris strapped to my forearm. "Okay. Let's talk."

Audric settled onto the couch, but he didn't look relaxed. He lay his blades across his lap, prepared for battle. "You are neo-mage, out of Enclave, hiding. I assume you ran following an infraction. Or banishment. This I have suspected for some time."

I should have attacked. Audric tensed as the thought crossed my mind. Not good. I had telegraphed my intent; no human should have been able to pick up on neomage battle reactions. I had become sloppy. I had been away from my people for too long.

Against my training and instincts, I loosened the autonomic muscles that had given me away. Audric mirrored my slight relaxation. I should have thrown everything I had at him, magepower and blade, hurt him badly, then run. That was what Lolo had prepared me to do if my origins were exposed and I was accused. But Audric hadn't accused me. I hesitated. A conundrum. I had no prearranged plan for this situation. And I didn't want to run, start over somewhere else, as someone else. I had roots here. I had Rupert. Jacey. Ciana.

How had Audric known? I opened my mage-sight and examined him. He appeared human, smelled human, moved human slow. As I looked, he touched the lightning-bolt pendant at his throat and relaxed from warrior readiness. Something indefinable slipped aside, as if he dropped shields, as if he had been glamoured, as if a strong conjure had been countered. A glow seeped from Audric, soft coral, like me. Or almost. "Seraph stones," I breathed. "You're a crossbreed."

"The common term is mule, I believe." Audric sat relaxed, peaceful, waiting.

I closed off mage-sight and looked at him, astonished. He wasn't in my thoughts, driving me insane. I hadn't been tested against half-breeds before I was sent away, and clearly I should have been. Lolo would have sent one or more with me into hiding. Surely.

Joy budded in the depths of my heart, tremulous, half disbelieving. I'm not alone. When I spoke, my voice was breathless, scratchy, and I had to stop and clear it. "Not even a human would find you common, Audric. And the term is insulting."

"Indeed," he said, his tone and words still formal. "We call ourselves the second-unforeseen. Or—for the neomage-human crossbreeds who desired to sire children or enjoy the full physical delights of mating—the cursed." He canted his head. "I too am in hiding, for an incident which I will not discuss."

"Are you a seraph-bound warrior or mage-bound?"

"Neither," he said simply.

I looked at him in surprise. A free half-breed was a rare being, almost unknown. When he didn't elaborate, I asked, "What will we do now? Who else knows?"

"Your scars have been noted at times over the years, while you were working in back. They are" —he paused carefully—"distinctive."

Unconsciously, I smoothed my sleeves along my arms, aware of the spawn-claw shapes, uniform, three fingered and deep.

"Rupert and Jacey have speculated that you are half-breed. Neither have guessed about me. But if Rupert remembers the melted snow in the alley or your unglamoured skin, he will realize, as I did, that you are fully neomage." Rumors had always abounded about neomages hiding in the human population, though to my knowledge, none had ever been substantiated. Until now. It suddenly occurred to me that I was proof the rumors were true. I considered carefully, knowing my power-drunk judgment was suspect.

"The two in the window saw the broken alley wall. It affected them personally, so it was likely all they saw. The wall was old; its falling made sense. The clouds outside hold frozen rain, which could easily create the frozen mess there now. I think Rupert was knocked loopy. And the melt will have refrozen by now, partially hiding my error," I said, watching his serene eyes. "May I suggest we do nothing? Keep each other's secret from the humans?"

Audric relaxed even more and a hint of amusement crossed his face. "A neomage and a crossbreed living in the same town? One of us divorced, the other living with a human man? What would they say?"

"If the humans knew? Too much. But Rupert has to know. If you've been" —I searched for a polite term and felt my face burn—" intimate."

"We're not all totally without physical characteristics. He believes my differences are the result of an accident when I was a child."

"Oh." That sidestepped the issue nicely, which made me even more curious, but I couldn't think of a polite way to ask what he looked like naked, so I changed the subject. "I've never met an unforeseen," I said, using the new designation.

"Second-unforeseen. Neomages were the prime-unforeseen."

That generated another question, and before I considered whether it might be rude, I asked, "Do you have souls?"

He inclined his head, the lights gleaming off his bald pate. "It is said that we do."

Sorrow pricked at me, sharp in my drunkenness. Striving to be as formal as he, I said, "I may have met another like you today. One in the alley appeared human, but he knew savage-chi." I thought back to the alley, parsing each sensation. "I cut him. His blood smelled wrong, not entirely human. And he was spelled with Darkness."

"Ahhh," Audric breathed. "Living in Enclave is the only way for second-unforeseen children to be truly safe. The war art is taught to all of us before we leave Enclave as adults, to find and bond with a seraph, to battle minions of the Darkness. Most of us are not fortunate enough to find a winged warrior for war partner, and we either return to Enclave to bind with a mage or enter the human world, often teaching chi as a way to survive." He worried his jaw back and forth, thinking. "It is perfectly legal to teach humans the art, as long as no Dark humans receive instruction. A Darkness may have drawn in unbound ones. Or perhaps a neomage teacher is in rebellion."

"Lolo would have heard if so."

"You are of the New Orleans Enclave. I originated in Seattle Enclave," he said. "The one you sensed might have been conscripted by a Power, but we cannot assume no primes have joined them unbeknownst to the mage council. Or perhaps a captive was bred to humans kept by the Darkness."

I shrugged. "It's getting complicated."

"It's always complicated. Let's consider the threats we face." Audric bent, crossed his blades on the floor before him, and settled into the cushions, resting his hands on his knees as if meditating. "Lucas sends Rupert stone from Linville. While carrying some of the stone, he's attacked. His blood is spilled. He disappears along with the stone except for small fragments, found by happenstance, by a Stanhope cousin. One who shares the same genetic structure. This stone, and this man, affect you in a peculiar way."

"Noticed that, did you?"

"With the stone is a letter claiming Lucas found it while cleaning out his grampa's belongings, but the original discoverer is unknown, and it is possible we may never find out who discovered it."

"The old man was a notorious money-grubber. His own grandson can't see him not exploiting an opportunity to mine it himself." I set aside my weapon, reached into a basket at my feet and pulled out a pad and pen, flipped past several jewelry designs to a blank page and sketched a globular outline of the relationships and events so far.

"A previously unknown Stanhope cousin is in the mountains," Audric continued, "and is sent here just at this time, by the matriarch."

"Coincidence?"

"Is there such a beast?" Without waiting for an answer, he continued. "The blood spilled in the alley where Lucas was attacked was removed, indicating devil-spawn were present, or close enough to be drawn by the scent. In the hills of nearby counties, spawn are drinking blood. In Linville, where Gramma lives, where the stone was stored, a family was drained. I asked a few questions when I heard of it. They were Stanhopes, distant relations."

I didn't like the direction this was taking, but it was making an awful kind of sense. "They were looking for the stone?"

"Or for Stanhopes. A daywalker has spoken to Ciana, also a Stanhope," he said, worry lines growing at his eyes. "Now a second-unforeseen has attacked a Stanhope. Because he was spelled with Darkness, we may consider the possibility that a Power, seeking that bloodline, was involved with Lucas' kidnapping. Lucas' letter stated that Stanhopes are in danger, and though we don't yet know why, it must be related to Benaiah Stanhope. I had thought the focal point of this conundrum was the amethyst, but it could be Stanhope blood." He thought a moment more. "I will escort Ciana to school each day and back here or home. She and Rupert must be protected."

Relief flooded through me. "Thank you."

"And now we have to go to the cops," he said, dropping the formality.

I looked away from him but saw the smile he smothered.

"I'm not particularly fond of them myself. No unforeseen is. But the Stanhopes need the police to be involved. If we don't go to them and Ciana or Rupert is taken or killed, we couldn't live with it. Up, mage. And dress appropriately for the weather this time."

"At least I wasn't half naked."

"I am a specimen of great beauty. You are privileged to have looked upon me."

I snorted, and Audric laughed. I was no longer alone.

At the LE, Officer Litton listened to our story as sleet fell in the streets and alleys. It took an hour to fill out all his papers and another until his superior could meet with us. Captain Durbarge met us in the Law Enforcement Center's cafeteria, and as he entered, I felt Audric disguise a flinch in a small yawn, and stretch as if he had been sitting too long, the denim of his shirt and jeans too tight. As he moved, he touched his necklace, the amulet hiding his neomage genetic heritage. That meant Audric sensed something about the cop.

I sent out the faintest skim and withdrew instantly. Sweet seraph! An Administration of the ArchSeraph Investigator! I drew on my bear amulet to double-damp my skin as the small man sat across from us, and then realized that wasn't smart. AASIs, called asseys by the disrespectful, sometimes recognized the use of power. The investigator had hooded, droopy eyes, giving him a deceptively somnolent look. He wore an old-fashioned, black wool suit with a starched white shirt and a fringed black scarf looped around his neck. Durbarge opened a black leather case, revealing an AAS ID sigil, wings and halo, the clear crystal glittering with archseraph energies. I was careful to keep my neomage paws away. It was said such sigils would sometimes glow in the presense of a mage. "I'm Captain Durbarge with the AAS. What can you tell me about the attack you just reported?"

"We are honored to have the Administration of the Arch-Seraph show an interest in the case," Audric said, cutting off my response. "Are you in Mineral City because of the disappearance of Lucas Stanhope and the violence shown on SNN?"

The cop held Audric's gaze. "That and a related matter. What can you—"

"So the violent attacks on Lucas and Rupert are part of something larger."

"It's possible. The matter today? Please?" He still looked sleepy, but Audric's questions had snared his interest.

Audric glanced at me. My turn. I described what I had seen and done. Well, the sanitized version Audric and I had concocted before we came to the station. Durbarge laced his hands together on the table in front of him. When I finished, he asked, "And you raised your hand against another?"

Fear plunged into me like a spike. I almost bowed my head, taking refuge in humility and repentance. Instead, the fear did a somersault in my chest and came out as anger. I met his eyes. "In defense of another life. I took no joy in my actions."

The assey cocked his head as if he found me a curiosity. Not what I wanted.

I reined in the irritation seething beneath my skin. "Before the next Jubilee I will confess my sin of violence at kirk and ask God the Victorious for mercy."

"A chaste and humble reply."

His tone made me want to kick him. Chaste and humble my neomage backside. He didn't believe me. He didn't believe Audric. Somehow, we had slipped and generated his special attention.

"What can you tell me about Jason?"

That was unexpected. "Lucas' brother?" I asked. The assey didn't reply. He simply stared at me, waiting. I resisted the urge to draw on my amulets. "Not much. I met him at my wedding and again at my divorce."

"Have you done business with the man?"

"He's never been in the shop."

"I see. And your impression of him?"

"It isn't kind."

Durbarge quirked his lips into a small smile. I had a feeling that for him it was the equivalent of howling laughter. "Humor me. You can confess this small sin today too."

Cheeky. "Jason wants money. He doesn't care about family or children, or anyone except himself. He isn't capable of committing to a long-term relationship, much like Lucas, but with Jason, there's an element of cruelty in his flitting from woman to woman. With Lucas, it's more that he can't seem to help himself."

Again that small smile. "Weakness in one brother, cruelty in another, and a catamite in the third." Smooth words, like a sharp blade one doesn't feel until the blood starts to fall. I was stunned into silence.

"The Most High is merciful," Audric said, his face as still as stone, eyes flinty.

Durbarge nodded once. "So he is. And just. His vengeance will not be hindered."

"There are those who depend on his mercy more than others."

"And those who look with joy for his justice and retribution."

"And all are part of his body," Audric said quickly. The two had now established that they were well trained in opposing schools of study on the nature of the Most High, Durbarge a practicing orthodox, and therefore a mage-hater, and Audric a student of the reformation. Wasn't that just dandy? I wondered what other secrets Audric was hiding.

Each nodded once, signaling his recognition of the other's theological position. I wanted to slap them upside their thick skulls and shout, Focus! Rupert is injured and Lucas is missing! But I kept my expression serene and seethed inside where they couldn't see it. I hoped.

"You are Audric Cooper, dead-miner, man with a salvage claim for the entire city of Sugar Grove," the assey said. "Tell me what you saw today."

Without reacting to proof that his background had been researched, Audric told of the dustup in the alley, our version. The assey listened, motionless, taking in each small gesture, each shift of expression, depositing them in his brain with information we didn't have, and correlating them into an interactive vision only he saw.

When Audric stopped speaking, Durbarge sat silent, fingers laced. A clock ticked somewhere close, a door opened and closed, the smell of scorched coffee filtered into the room. We waited. "I don't usually tell interested parties about an investigation, but I'm making an exception." He looked directly at me as if I were an insect and he a collector. "A Power has been operating in nearby counties. We believe citizens are working with the Darkness. Jason is associating with those we suspect. He's being investigated."

I remembered the stink of spelled blood, the proficient savage-chi moves. I wanted to ask about neomage involvement but settled for a question that might not get me carved up. "How does that relate to the violence against the Stanhopes?"

"It relates quite well if there is a blood-demon involved."

I looked at the small man, horror seeping through my veins. A blood-demon was a Dark spirit, incorporeal, incapable of physical manifestation but able to use the bodies of humans. They traveled from human to human through bloodlines. Some speculated they had the capability of recognizing similar genetic properties and traveling through families by accessing genes themselves. Ciana and Rupert were in mortal danger. Devil-spawn roamed the hills. A blood-demon was in the mix, and a Power. A daywalker was loose. I opened my mouth to tell the assey about the beast when Audric placed his foot over mine beneath the table in warning. Instead, I said, "Thank you for telling us. We appreciate that the Administration of the Arch-Seraph is on guard to protect the Stanhopes."

Durbarge's brows rose in amusement and he stood with a scrape of chair legs. "We aren't here to protect your family, Thorn Stanhope. We're here to investigate a major Power and its minions. Then to summon warriors to subdue it and bring to justice its cadre of slaves and followers. Whoever they may be."

Officious little snot. We stood as well, and the big man took my arm. Another warning. Or he noted my rising color and knew what I was about to say. "We thank you," he said to the little man, who definitely didn't like having to look up into Audric's eyes.

Audric pulled me out of the LEC. Cold clamped down, trying to freeze the anger simmering inside me. I shoved my hands into my pockets. "You should have let me sock him," I said as Audric guided me into the sleet. He chuckled deep in his chest and led the way past the new city hall and Waldroup's Fine Furniture, owned by the baker's brother. The Waldroups were a large, prosperous clan.

"Which would have given him the right to search you. He would have found your amulets and you would have been taken off in handcuffs to the AAS, interrogated most painfully, then turned over to the nearest Enclave. Or he might have kept you, used you, and given you to the elders," he said, his tone pleasant. "I would have been arrested and sentenced to the winter. Death by freezing and starvation is quite painful, I imagine, but nothing compared to cold steel and human wrath."

"You're getting a kick out of all this, aren't you?"

Audric grinned happily. The half-breeds were warriors who trained for, and loved, a good battle. Most were bound to the High Host, participating in the mopping up of the remaining Powers and Principalities of Darkness. Heavy fighting. Mighty battle. Blood, guts, and glory, huzzah! Nothing one could have in peaceful Mineral City, in the middle of nowhere, a city where no Darkness activity had been seen in generations—until now. Coincidence piled on coincidence. Or something planned by an unseen hand. Audric hadn't said why he first came to Mineral City. And he hadn't asked why I was here. Don't ask, don't tell. Was I lucky or what?

We came even with the Blue Snail Cafe and Diner. I turned from the window, then quickly back again. Sitting in a booth was Jane Hilton, Lucas' new wife, having lunch with three men, including Derek Culpepper. I risked a second glance, nudged Audric to look, and we moved on.

"Distraught, isn't she?" I asked.

"Well, well, well," Audric chuckled again.

The Culpepper family had big bucks and was politically powerful, and the family patriarch was a kirk elder. Jane looked beautiful, delicate, weakly feminine, and positively beseeching, blond hair loose across her shoulders, green eyes huge. It was revolting. I couldn't see the other men, whose faces were turned away from the window. There was red meat on the plates, burgers cooked rare, oozing with thin blood. Colas and french fries. An expensive, fancy Pre-Ap meal. "Now, what could Lucas' new wife want with the likes of him?" Audric asked. I had no answer.