He strode past the pit trap, seemingly headed toward the shadowed corner. He wasn’t the sorcerer – his build was far too short and stocky – but if he was going to use whatever lay hidden by those stones, then he was someone we needed to talk to.

Do it fast, Azriel commented. He may be shorter than you, but he’ll be stronger.

Like I didn’t realize that. The shifter drew closer and tension wound through my limbs, until my legs were quivering with the need to move, to attack. I waited until he’d passed the office in which I’d hidden, then rose and ran after him, as quickly and as silently as I could.

He sensed me and pivoted, lashing out with a booted foot. The blow was so fast it was little more than a blur. I twisted away, and his heel scraped across my hip rather than burying itself in my stomach. I flipped Amaya so that I was holding blade rather than hilt, and swung her hard. The blow caught him high in the forearm and knocked him sideways. He swore, the sound guttural, almost incoherent, but caught his balance all too swiftly and launched at me. I caught a brief glimpse of his features as I spun away, and realized with a sinking sensation exactly what I was dealing with. He wasn’t a shifter, or even a Razan, but rather another of those beings who’d been twisted by magic. He just didn’t feel as wrong as his brethren. Maybe our sorcerer was getting the hang of perverting the souls of others.

I ducked under another leap but this time he anticipated the move, somehow twisting in midair to crash body-first into me. I landed on my back with a grunt, briefly winded, my arms and legs tangled in his. I swore, pulled an arm free, and chopped down with Amaya. Her hilt smashed into his shoulder and something cracked. He howled, the sound one of fury and pain combined, and lashed out with an elbow. The blow struck my chin hard enough to rattle teeth, and for a moment I saw stars.

Amaya hissed in fury, a sound I could only echo. I bucked, trying to get him off me, but I might as well have tried moving a ton of bricks. He laughed and grabbed at my arms, managing to pin one to the grimy concrete, his breath thick and fetid as it washed across my face. He may not have smelled bad on the outside, but he was definitely rotting inside.

I bucked again, this time lifting him high enough to get my knees under him. I thrust him up and over my head, then scrambled to my feet and lunged toward him. Though still on the ground, he spun, one leg sweeping out, trying to hook mine. I leapt over it and landed, knees first, in the middle of his gut. As air exploded from his lungs, I smashed my fist into his chin with as much force as I could muster. His head snapped sideways and his body went limp. He was out cold.

I blew out a relieved breath, but didn’t immediately climb to my feet. Azriel, can you read him from a distance?

Normally yes, but this creature’s soul and mind have been twisted by magic. I need contact.

Meaning I have to carry him out? Bummer.

It’s not far.

Says the man who doesn’t have to carry him, I grumbled.

You could drag him.

Not if we want any hope of our presence here to remain unknown. The fucking floor is full of grease and muck. And while my footprints would undoubtedly show, at least there was a chance of them not catching anyone’s eye, given that the twisted shifter and who knows what else came through here.

I rose, grabbed the shifter’s hands, then hauled him to his feet with a grunt of effort. After draping his arms around my neck, I knelt in front of him and let his body fall over my shoulder and back. Then I lifted him, holding on to one arm and leg to keep him in place. That done, I turned and headed for the exit.

It felt like I’d run a fucking marathon by the time I reached the loading bay. The shifter might not have been overly tall, but he was thick and muscular, and weighed a goddamn ton. I eased him from my shoulder, then propped him against the roller door and sucked in great gulps of air. When the trembling in my muscles finally eased, I shifted my grip to his arm and let him drop sideways. And, in the process, just about ripped his arm out of its socket. Not that that particularly worried me.

I shoved his upper body through the hole in the roller door, and Azriel dragged the rest of him out. I followed, relieved to be in fresh air again.

I studied the street, making sure no one was paying any particular attention to what we were doing, then knelt on the other side of the prone form. “So, can you read him?”

“Wait.” Azriel closed his eyes and placed two fingers lightly against the shifter’s high forehead. After several moments of silence, he shook his head and glanced at me. “The shifter’s mind is a maze of magic and blocks, and it feels like the work of the Aedh. It has not the feel of dark magic.”

I frowned. “But Lucian’s dead —”

“Yes,” he cut in. “But these creatures were more than likely created by our sorceress while he lived, and the Aedh was more than a little aware of my abilities. He ensured I could not get information from this mind.”

“So I carried this bastard out here for nothing?”

He smiled. “The Aedh was not as clever as he liked to think. There is more than one way to get information from a mind.”

With that, he placed his hands on either side of the shifter’s head and closed his eyes. Almost instantly Valdis’s sides began to glow, showering the immediate darkness with blue sparks. Energy surged, its feel sharp and fierce, and in the space between Azriel’s hands pictures began to flow – flickering images that moved so fast they were little more than blurs of color. The last time I’d seen him do this was when he’d tried to capture the lingering memories from a dead man’s mind. This man was very much alive, and perhaps that was why the images were sharper, faster.

I watched in silence, catching an occasional glimpse of Lauren but little else. After a few minutes, Azriel lowered his hands and leaned back on his heels.

“Well, that was interesting.”

I raised my eyebrows. “In what way?”

“He has only ever dealt with Lauren and Lucien. I could find no indication that there was another party involved in their schemes.”

“Which doesn’t mean there isn’t,” I commented. “Just that he’s been extraordinarily canny about revealing himself.”

“Perhaps.” Azriel’s gaze briefly swept the shifter, and distaste briefly touched his expression. “He was created just over a week ago. His flesh belongs to a drifter but his soul was wrenched from the fires of hell.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

His gaze came to mine. Anger burned deep in those blue depths. “When Lauren creates these creatures, she replaces the original soul with one who is bound by her magic to obey. Her source is hell itself.”

She was dragging souls back from hell? Not just demons, but souls? Holy fucking crap. “So what happens to the original soul? Do they share flesh space?”

“No. It was forced out, so it would have become one of the lost ones.”

A ghost, in other words. Anger surged through me, and Amaya burned to life, her flames shooting fierce lilac streaks through the darkness. Echoing my emotions, as Valdis sometimes echoed Azriel’s.

“How the hell could she do something like that, Azriel? I would have thought only the powers in charge of both heaven and hell were capable of such a feat.”

“It is doubtful she would have attempted drawing souls from the light path, if only because they would not have the level of corruption she seems to require. But the dark path has always allowed access to those with enough power and strength of will.”

“But why? I mean, the gates were created to prevent souls and demons escaping, weren’t they?”

“Yes, but any barrier can be breached. The portals have never been totally impervious. They cannot be, when souls must constantly traverse them.”

“We really do have to catch this bitch,” I muttered, and glanced back at our shifter. “He seemed a whole lot more rational than some of the others we’ve come across.”

“Perhaps Lauren has finally refined her technique.”

I snorted softly. Nothing like refining the way you destroyed someone’s present and future lives. “What about those stones I came across inside? Could you find anything about those?”

He nodded. “It is a minor protection circle, as you have already guessed. It hides stairs that lead down into the basement.”

“I wonder if the basement leads into the tunnels the pit falls into?”

“I don’t know. His memories seemed to imply the magic merely protects storage areas, but that does not mean that is all there is to be found down there.”

It would be typical of the sort of luck we’d been getting, though. “If it’s only minor magic, Ilianna will be able to unpick it for us.”

“Shall I go retrieve her?”

I hesitated. “I don’t think the witches would react too favorably to your presence in the Brindle.”

He frowned. “Perhaps not, but it would drain too much of your strength to transport her here in Aedh form.”

And it would take longer than we probably had to drive here. The shifter had been sent here for a reason, after all, and sooner or later someone was going to miss him. I blew out a breath. “Okay, you fetch her. I’ll wait here and knock our friend out again if he shows signs of waking.”

“No need.” Azriel briefly pressed two fingers against the shifter’s forehead, and energy caressed the air. “He will not waken until I will it.”

I frowned. “How come you could do that, and yet not access his mind telepathically?”

“Different sections of the brain. I have also adjusted his memories. He now believes he came out here to investigate a sound, and was knocked unconscious and subsequently robbed. I suggest you claim his wallet.” He touched my hand, his fingers warm against my skin. “Stay alert. I won’t be long.”

“Even I can’t get into trouble in the two minutes you’ll be gone,” I said, voice wry. But I was talking to air.

And tempting fate.

Because the words were barely out of my mouth when an odd glimmer caught my eye. It was little more than a wisp of silvery smoke that was quickly shredded as it passed under the glow of the streetlight, but my stomach nevertheless dropped.