Again, nothing.
Which didn’t mean there wasn’t any danger or trap waiting within, especially given the wide-open front door. I called my knives from my purse, which was still sitting in the backseat of the Mercedes. Once they’d thudded into my hands, I tucked one blade into my belt under my coat, angling it so that I didn’t stab my butt, then gripped the other tightly, feeling oddly reassured with its weight in my hand as I carefully stepped inside.Lightning flickered down the blade’s fuller, a warning that echoed through the Eye. There was magic here, though it was much deeper inside the house and held no immediate threat.
I walked through the small laundry into a combined kitchen-dining-living space that ran the remaining width of the building. Glass sliding doors dominated the living area and would have provided great views over the golf course if the hedge wasn’t there. Said hedge, no doubt, was there to prevent wayward golf balls smashing those same glass doors or the nearby windows.
I did a quick scout around the room, but nothing stirred my instincts. I continued on, into a hall from which there were entrances into several more rooms. A vague scent hung on the air, soft and definitely feminine. I frowned, drawing in a deeper breath; orange flowers, I thought after a moment, with just a hint of musk. Definitely not the scent of our thief, suggesting someone else had been here. Whether the scent wearer had been with him or had arrived beforehand was impossible to say.
At the far end of the hall was the open front door, and near it, to its right, were the stairs leading up to the first floor. Between it and me was some sort of weird haze.
I didn’t need the faint flicker of lightning down the blade to tell me that haze was magic.
Outside, the sirens stopped and the sound of car doors slamming rode the wind. The clock was definitely running down now....
I edged forward, my gaze on the haze. As I got closer, the lightning rolling down the knife’s fuller intensified and the vague sense of danger increased.
I stopped again several feet away and sat on my heels, studying the haze through narrowed eyes. After a moment, I spotted the wire. It was hair fine, barely visible to the naked eye, and stretched the entire width of the hall, sitting only an inch or so off the oak flooring. It was attached to the skirting board onone side and a small round disk that was barely visible against the understairs storage doors on the other.
Footsteps approached and I glanced up. A big bear of a man with thick, wiry brown hair, brown skin, and a fierce, untamable beard strode up the path toward me.
Sgott, just as I’d hoped. And while he might be no happier than Ruadhán to find me inside this house, he was more likely to accept my reasons. His expression was certainly more resigned than annoyed.
“Lass, one of these days you’re going to put yourself in deep trouble by trespassing like this.”
The Scottish brogue was heavy in his voice, making it sound like it was coming from the vicinity of his boots.
“One of these days, I undoubtedly will, but hopefully it won’t be today.” I pointed toward the wire. “There’s a trip wire here, attached to a disk and protected by a haze of magic.”
He stopped on the threshold and squatted on his heels, brown eyes narrowing as his gaze swept the hall in front of me. “I’m not seeing anything.”
“I think that’s because of the magic. The only reason I saw it was because the knife gave me warning.”
“Are you able to defuse the magic with your knife without tripping the wire? I can call someone in, but that’ll take time we might not have.”
I hesitated. “I should be able to, but it still might be wise if you step back.”
“I’ll step back when you step back, lass.”
“That’s not?—”
“I said what I said, and I mean it.”
I stared at him for a second, then rolled my eyes and gave in to the inevitable. “Fine. I’ll task the wind with yanking me backward the minute I stab the haze.”
“Good.” He rose, glanced around at the sound of steps, and motioned to whoever it was to stop.
I silently reached for the wind, tied it around my waist, then returned my attention to Sgott. “Ready?”
He nodded, balancing lightly on the balls of his feet, ready to turn and run. I tightened the finger of air a fraction more, slashed the knife through the haze, and then ordered the wind to rip me back down the hall.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then the haze ignited, and the disk exploded with enough force to shake the whole building. Dust and plaster began to chase me down the hall, and huge cracks appeared in the ceiling above. The building’s gentle song switched to one of utter distress... it was coming down.
The whole fucking house was coming down.
Plaster, wood and even furniture now crashed all around me; wood, metal, and glass spun through the air, many deadly daggers that came close but never touched, thanks to the fierceness of the wind that remained wrapped around me. I was ripped through the living area, into the laundry, and then out through the back door. I was halfway down the backyard when I finally unleashed myself, and I hit the ground hard enough that a grunt escaped. I scrambled upright and watched in disbelief as the entire house—every brick, every tile, and everything else that lay within those four walls—disintegrated before my very eyes.
Our thief definitely hadn’t set this trap. He might be Myrkálfar, but the complete and utter destructiveness of this spell wasn’t in their skillset; not as far as I was aware, anyway. Their control lay over stone and precious metal, not timber or glass or any of the other manmade items that had lain within that house. While theycouldforce stone to explode, it wouldn’t have reduced the rest of the building’s contents to splinters.
This had been done by someone else, possibly whoever that faint scent had belonged to. Whoever it was, she’d been very determined there would be absolutely nothing left to find.
