Daphne had no choice but to follow, up the flights of stairs. Locked anywhere, no problem, given how quickly Babette went through. Given the strangeness of the past few days, she was past wondering how she managed to do it.
As they emerged onto the roof, a deep shiver shook Daphne. Not just because of the cool night air that whipped past her skin. They were quite a few stories above ground. Alone. No one to save her when Babette shoved her off the building. Everyone would assume the crazy girl from the museum had committed suicide.
She’d die just like the other people who’d come in contact with the special collection. The curse would have another victim.
The grip on her arm loosened as Babette released her and took a few paces. “Okay, Daphne, we have a few choices on how to do this. I can carry you on my back, but you’d have to hold on tight, and if I have to do a belly roll, you might fall off. If you don’t mind a bit of saliva, then I can carry you in my jaws. But I know humans are kind of wiggy about that spot. I blame those stories about us eating all those heroes. As if we’d go after stringy meat inside a smelly tin can. Give me a nice plump ewe any day. Right after a shearing so the hair doesn’t get caught in my teeth.”
There was a real possibility Daphne’s eyes would fall out of her head.
Babette kept going. “I’d use my talons, but they’re kind of an embarrassing mess right now. I need a new pedicurist. Word of advice, if you like your nail lady, don’t sleep with her. They are impossible to replace.”
None of that made any sense, which was probably why Daphne was so happy to hear his voice.
“Step away from the human.”
Chapter Seven
The third vow: Never give up.
Losing wasn’t something Azrael accepted with grace. He’d not lived this long to fail. Yet, less than a moon cycle back, and he wasn’t doing so well.
A seal broken under his very gaze, the Shaitan escaped, and a female in trouble with the constabulary, partly because of him. He felt somewhat beholden. Conflicted.
Should he help her or continue with his one and only mission?
As to the latter, he had no leads to follow. The Shaitan had disappeared and gone to ground somewhere. Azrael had no clue where to find the next seal, but he knew someone who might be able to help.
Daphne.
Which meant he had to rescue her. The problem being, how? And where? He could waste time questioning people and drawing attention to his target, or he could be subtle about his search for the woman. Meaning magic.
The spell required specific materials, personal items that belonged to Daphne. Hair being one of the best ingredients. He returned to her abode, once more levitating to her window and entering. The place appeared vastly messier than when he left, with furniture turned over, drawers emptied.
Someone had been through searching, and not just humans. The stench lingered, an acrid burn that indicated the Shaitan had been here. The leaking of scent was a sign it was weak from its display earlier. Good to know it hadn’t gotten stronger while imprisoned.
Also good was the fact the Shaitan didn’t get its hands on the dagger, now in the sheath at Azrael’s waist. It didn’t quite fit, and displaced his stave to a less comfortable spot at his back, but he needed the shielding the sheath provided to block the weapon’s intricate power.
The knife’s power came from the metal. Dracinore. It was harvested from meteors and disruptive to many forms of magic and even certain innate gifts. It was the one thing that could harm the Shaitan. But only if it was solid. The metal had no effect on it in its mist form.
As he moved through the destruction of Daphne’s home, he took in more detail than he had the evening before, including the fact there appeared to be many dragons. Crystal ones. Porcelain. Art on the wall. Stitched into cushions. Serpentine. Plump. Some winged beasts, some spiked. What an interesting hoard.
He’d given up his hoard when he went willingly to his prison. He’d owned a lovely collection of rocks. He’d visited it out of curiosity and been saddened to see it some kind of attraction for humans. They arrived in long chariots, dozens at a time, aiming their little boxes, pointing and chattering about the magic of the place.
Little did they know it was just one of a few places he’d marked out as the perfect nap spot. He used to hoard sleep. When he wasn’t battling the Shaitan, he would find one of his special rings of stone and rest.
He wished he’d known he’d have three thousand years to sleep. He would have done more.
He realized he was stroking a dragon, a fierce specimen made of green jade. The horns were intricate. The detail quite accurate.
He pocketed it and moved to the bathing chamber. He didn’t need too much, a piece of clothing bearing her scent, a few strands of hair. Once he’d gathered a few things, he placed them in a pile, adding the jade dragon to sit atop it. His hands came together as he bowed his head, pulling at the magic in the air.
It felt so good to have access to it again. Three thousand years he’d spent cut off from the source, and now he could dip into it.
The spell took shape, a complicated blend of her essence and magic. He twisted it all together to create a special pulse. It hovered in the air, slowly blinking. It needed a container.
He found a strange oval-shaped object under the sink. It popped open when squeezed, the inside the perfect size for the pulse once he removed the rubbery item shaped as a mini cup with a stem. It stank of blood, as did the case, but that would only amplify the tracking spell.
As he came out of the bathing chamber with the pulsing case in hand, his gaze was caught by the bed. He’d been tired when he’d collapsed in it with her. Using magic had a price. Yet as fatigued as he was, he’d remained aware of her. When she moved, he noted it.
The pulse in the case intensified for a moment as his hand tightened around it. For a second, he could swear he saw her, expression frightened, her arm being gripped by a man.
Who was he? What did he want with her?
Azrael had to hurry. He eschewed regular methods to leave via the window again. With the pulse of magic as his guide, he sped across the city, wings of shadow at his back. He didn’t fear being seen, as the hour was getting late. Most humans slumbered or shut themselves away. Night and its shadows reigned, meaning none saw the dark mass overhead. But he saw everything, and the pulse in his grip thumped faster.
Close now. In the distance, he spotted the two figures on the edge of the roof. He’d found Daphne in the company of a stranger, and when she bolted, he realized if he didn’t hurry, he might lose her for good.
He alighted on the rooftop, cocooned in silence, neither of the people present noticing his arrival. Daphne struggling in someone’s grip made him snap, “Step away from the human.”
The other female with shaggy hair and a cocky attitude perused him. “Who the heck are you?”
His nostrils flared, and he angled his chin. He knew that scent. He’d help banish them for crimes against his people. “You do not get to ask me questions, silver.” In his day, those belonging to the Silver Sept were the lowest of the low.
“I don’t suppose your name is Azrael?”
“I am, meaning you do know who I am, and are being intentionally insolent.”
“Actually, I don’t know who you are. Finding out is part of my mission. So before I get testy, because it is that time of the month, who are you, why are you here, and where are your friends?”