“You’d better remain invisible until we get the lay of the house,” I said, somehow keeping my voice even. “I don’t want Taylor setting off a damn bomb because he spots you.”
“He will not.”
I thrust a somewhat shaky hand through my hair, then said, “I guess I’d better take the car. I don’t think it would be wise to let Taylor know I’m something more than a werewolf.”
“I agree,” Azriel said. “And him not knowing might also give you the advantage—especially if you travel near the umbra.”
The umbra was the area where the real world and the gray fields merged, but I couldn’t see how that actually became an advantage.
“The Dušan,” he said. “She can take full form in the umbra.”
“Then all I have to do is get the bastard there and let her loose.” But how did I do that? How would I even know when I was getting close to it?
“The plane works in much the same way as your atmosphere,” Azriel said. “The closer you get to the umbra, the thinner or more distant this reality will be.”
I frowned. “So all I have to do is imagine myself flying up toward it?”
“It is not that simple. Nor would Taylor allow it to be even if it was.”
“Then how the hell do I reach it?” Frustration, and perhaps more than a little panic, edged my voice. I didn’t want to do this, even if I would never be entirely alone on the astral plane.
“The plane is separated from the gray fields by a series of—” He hesitated. “Layers, I suppose they can be called. The umbra is the fourth and last of these layers. Most astral travelers are only able to access the first two. The very seasoned can access the third and see the umbra. Psychics such as your mother and yourself can access the umbra itself and interact with the beings there.”
I frowned. “But I thought you said most psychics only interacted with ghosts.”
“I did. Ghosts inhabit the umbra, which is why even those who astral travel are rarely aware of their presence.”
“So I was in the umbra when I met Taylor the first time?”
“No. You were in the umbra when you talked to Logan, but retreated to the base level when you went to rescue the woman.”
Ha. The things you learned. “So all I have to do is lure Taylor through the levels until we’re in the umbra?”
“Getting him there will be the problem. He will be wary of astral traveling too close to the umbra. Most seasoned travelers are.”
I frowned. “Why?”
“Because while a soul generally cannot be killed on the astral plane, that rule doesn’t hold on the umbra portion.”
I digested that for a moment, then slowly said, “That’s what he plans. He said only one of us will be coming back from this battle.”
“Make sure it is you, Risa. I could not—”
He cut the rest of the sentence off, leaving me wondering just what he’d been about to admit. The part that hungered for his touch desperately wanted to believe it was something along the lines of not being able to live without me, but that was stupid, given that he had a totally different physiology. More likely, he was simply going to remind me that he couldn’t continue the quest without me.
Which he’d reminded me of often enough.
I waved a hand toward the front door. “We’d better get going.”
Because the sooner we got to that house and whatever delights Taylor had waiting, the sooner we could get on with the business of finding the next key.
But even as I made my way down to my car, a dark voice within was whispering, You’ll be finding nothing but the afterlife if you lose this battle. And you could lose it. Very easily.
And if I kept thinking along those lines, I’d be defeated long before I ever made it onto the astral plane.
It didn’t take all that long to get across to Altona, thanks to the fact that peak hour had pretty much passed. I parked under a streetlight at the top end of Keeshan Court—there was little point in hiding—then climbed out and studied my surroundings. It was a typical middle-Melbourne suburban street, filled with tidy-looking brick houses and neat front yards. The sort of street I could imagine kids playing in happily, never realizing there was a psycho in their midst.
I shivered, then reached back into my car and grabbed my coat.
“So, we meet in the flesh at last,” a deep voice behind me said.
I bit down a squeak and spun around. A tall man dressed in dark jeans and a black sweater stood in front of me. My gaze traveled up the long, lean length of him, and clashed with the darkness of his. Recognition stirred.
“Markel Sanchez,” I said, relief evident in my voice.