"I'll take you, but Eight-Day is the day after that. I need to get back at a decent hour."
"I want my noodles. I'll get you back at a good time."
"Good."
"What do you want to eat now?"
"What do we have to cook with?" I started to slide off my stool.
"No—stay right there. I'll find something." He did. It was a steak that he shared with me, with stir-fried vegetables. Simple but decent. I ate it. I watched him, the dark braid swinging down his back as he cleaned up the kitchen afterward. Yes, I still found him attractive. His black eyes were an old fantasy for me. I shoved that thought aside. Teeg's eyes had been the same for me once. Now, I couldn't say how I felt about him. And Lok had already told me what he wanted, and I wasn't it.
"Thanks for dinner, it was good," I said. "But I want to go to bed." I wanted a bath, too, but I wasn't going to tell him that.
"Here." A cool cloth was placed over my eyes. I'd been sitting in the tub, leaning back, my neck braced by a rolled up towel, my eyes shut tight, worrying over everything. I'd been so caught up in my thoughts, pulling this way and that, I failed to hear Lok when he walked into the bathroom. I thought to cover myself—the water was clear and I didn't like bubbling soap. He'd already seen everything, I suppose, so I didn't bother.
"Thanks." I said. The cloth on my forehead did feel good.
"You need to meditate," Lok said after a while. He'd sat on the floor, right next to the tub. "Clear your mind of all thoughts. It'll be hard at first, but it gets easier. Picture blackness. That's all. If something intrudes, force it out and focus on the blackness again. See only that. Emptiness. Black. Void." His voice had gotten softer on each word. I did struggle at first, just as he said. But then it got easier. And after a while, I fell asleep.
"Focus on the void," Lok's voice soothed as he lifted Reah from the tub. Wrapping her in huge towels he'd placed on the bed, he covered her up and left her sleeping.
Chapter 8
"Reah? Pretty girl?" Corolan sat on the edge of my bed.
"Cory?" I'd inadvertently shortened his name. He smiled at me, telling me it was all right.
"Wylend sent me to tell you that the soul shifter is a warlock. We've gone to do a tri-scry on all the places that we're sure a soul-shift happened. It takes three strong warlocks to do a tri-scry. Wylend, Erland and Rylend did this, and determined that it's Karathian in origin. Some of the wizard clans hold enough power to do a soul-shift, and if we dig deep enough, we can get a feel off the power signature. All three of them say it's Karathian."
"But they don't know who." I sat up in bed with a little help from Corolan.
"That's right. The power signature was too old to get that—that part of it fades right away. If they could get to a soul-shift triangle immediately, they might be able to get a power scent. But that's not likely to happen." He shook his head and pursed his lips in thought.
"I appreciate the information," I patted his arm.
"Wylend wants to know if we'll get a night next week." He was smiling, now.
"I can try."
"Try for Two-Day," he grinned. "I want to make you breathe hard again. I want to hear that little yelp you make when you come."
"I want you to move faster when it feels right," I wrinkled my nose at him.
"Now, where's the fun in that?" He laughed and folded away.
Lok was sipping tea when I padded into the kitchen, wrapped in a robe. I'd wakened naked, with towels wrapped around me. I have no idea what Corolan thought of that. He hadn't remarked on it, anyway. Lok didn't say anything, so I put breakfast together for both of us.
"These eggs are good," Lok was enjoying his food.
"Thanks. Where are we going? So I'll know how to dress."
"Edness first, then Dindre."
"Winter to summer?" I lifted an eyebrow at him.
"Easier to take clothes off than put them on."
"You may have a point, sir." I waggled my fork at him. He ate with chopsticks, like all Falchani. Lok has several sets, some of them beautifully carved. He always washed them carefully when he was finished eating. He did use my spoons to eat soup, though.
"You're allowing me some intelligence?"
"I never said you didn't have it. All I've ever said is that you couldn't go a click without getting into trouble. Intelligence didn't figure into that." He lowered his head, but not before I caught the hint of a smile. Too bad, his black eyes sparkle when he smiles.
"You look good in leathers." Lok nodded his approval of my dress—I had black leathers on, with boots, a sleeveless vest and a lined leather jacket over that. I carried a scarf and hat, just in case, with my knife clipped to the back of my waistband and an extra, smaller knife in the top of my left boot. Perhaps I should ask Lendill if he'd consider giving me a Ranos pistol, just in case.
Lok was dressed nearly the same, with a sheepskin jacket over his leathers that fell midthigh. All leather was black, of course. New trainees on Falchan wore white or lightly-tanned leathers or clothing. The better trained wore brown or dark green. Only the masters wore black. Drake and Drew had shown me how to handle a blade long ago, teaching me the proper grip and such, before sparring with me. For exactly one week. I'd found black leathers lying on my bed shortly afterward, along with a note that said if I moved that fast, then I could spar with Lissa from now on.
I'd never asked Lissa to spar. High Demons were notoriously fast—it was inborn, somehow. Something instinctive, since we'd been designed to combat Ra'Ak or any one of the other creatures native to the Dark Realm. That's why we were immune to any sort of magical or wizard power—there were too many of those races inhabiting the Dark Realm from long ago. When the Ra'Ak destroyed nearly everything in their efforts to dominate, most of those races ceased to exist. Except for the High Demons, who, as Gardevik, Tory's father taught me, sat on their hands, watching it all happen and did nothing. If I'd been alive at the time, those Ra'Ak would have gotten a message from me, even if I'd been the only one hunting their hateful hides.
Edness was bitterly cold. Everything looked gray, too. From the clouds and the stone of the buildings that lined the street to the street itself. All gray. More than glad I'd brought the hat and scarf, I slipped both on and followed Lok, who hunched into his coat and forged his way down the street. Few were out—not only from the cold but because it was Eight-Day on Edness and early, in addition to that.
"This is where they were taken," Lok pulled gloves on before holding his comp-vid out to me—the dot on the electronic map was steady, showing we'd reached our destination.
Edness was the first place that had a witness, and the woman had reported seeing three children instead of the two who'd been taken.
"Was there any description given of the extra child?" My breath frosted out before me as I looked around for any evidence left behind.
"Dressed in a coat and hat—she didn't see the face and since they were bundled up with leggings on, she couldn't determine the sex." Lok's mouth was set, but his lips were full and sensual, below a beautiful, straight nose. I realized then that I hadn't even seen his tattoos—he'd always worn a shirt around me. It didn't matter, he found me inadequate. Shaking myself, I went back to looking for clues.
The stones of this building were set so well and so closely together, there was barely a seam between, leaving no rough places to catch fibers or anything else. The concrete beneath our feet was hard, gray and frozen, but no snow or sleet had fallen to betray footprints. I leaned back and stared up at the walls of the building—there were no windows on our level, but there were windows running in neat rows two stories up and higher. I remembered that two of the girls on Tulgalan had seemed to disappear, as if snatched from the air.
"Can we get into this building?" I asked Lok. "I want to see the rooms overlooking this spot." Lok now was looking upward, frowning. Probably wondering what I hoped to find there. He tapped Lendill's code into the comp-vid and waited for an answer.
"Reah wants to see the rooms inside the building overlooking the kidnapping site," Lok explained.
"I'll clear it with the authorities; give me a tick or two." Lendill terminated the call. Lok and I both huddled against the building in an attempt to block the wind—any exposed skin was freezing. I turned my back to it; that part was better shielded than my front. After what seemed a click, Lendill contacted us.
"The building manager will meet you outside those rooms—units 224 and 225. Don't waste his time and remember to say thank you."
"We will," Lok promised and shut off the call. I was more than thankful to go inside the building and ride the elevator up to the second floor. We waited outside unit 224 as instructed. I wondered what the manager might say if I asked to see 324 and 325.
The building manager showed up half a click later, key chip in hand. "We rent some units out to businessmen and such who come for short stays," he said, slipping the chip into the reader. "We have three staying in this unit, but they didn't answer when I rang them and the comp-unit inside says that there's no life source there right now. That's the only reason I gave permission to your supervisor." I had no idea how Lendill had identified himself—maybe he didn't want to frighten the man by saying he was Vice-Director Lendill Schaff.
"Oh, my. This was not in our agreement," the man said as we walked inside. The stench nearly knocked me down. Inside one of the bedrooms, we found the source of the smell. Andree Wirth's decomposing body lay face-down on the bed, the coverlet bunched up around her. I wanted to gag. Lok gripped my arm—hard—telling me to breathe through my mouth. The building manager didn't have as much success—he was vomiting in the hallway outside after running through the door to get away from the girl's body.