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I held up a hand to forestall whatever he was about to say. “Most of the blood isn’t mine and, aside from a few scrapes and a desperate need for food, I’m fine.”

His gaze scanned me and came up a little less worried. Like most bear shifters, he was a big, thickset man with wiry brown hair, brown skin, and a fierce, untamable beard. “Is this mess related to the events from last night?”

“Indeed, it is?—”

“Then why the fuck didn’t you call me straight away? We might well have avoided this mess?—”

“Or created a bigger one.” I squinted wearily up at him. “Aside from the fact I didn’t know if you were back from Scotland yet, I saw your people—and you—lying broken and bloodied on the road. There was no way known I was going to risk their lives, let alone yours.”

“You risked mine,” Mathi said dryly.

“You have as many lives as a cat and besides, you weren’t in that vision.”

“For which I am extremely grateful. As has been previously noted, there are too many women left in the world I have yet to seduce.”

I nudged him hard with an elbow. He simply laughed.

Sgott muttered something under his breath and shook his head. “You really are your mother’s child.”

I smiled. “And if I was her equal, maybe we wouldn’t be in this mess right now.”

“She had centuries to learn her gifts, remember that. Now, you’d best give me your report, then get yourself home and grab some sleep. You look dead on your feet.”

“I need to talk to Kaitlyn first?—”

“How is she involved in all this, aside from being the broker?”

“She was the target this time.”

“Do you know why?”

“Not really, but if my captive last night is to be believed, Gilda is somehow connected to the elf behind all this, and the attacks are revenge-based.”

“Gilda didn’t have any immediate family, that much I’m sure of,” Mathi said.

I glanced at him. “The thug we interviewed never said she was related, but given how promiscuous Ljósálfar elves are, I guess he could be a half brother.”

“Except your description of the man suggests that, aside from his red hair, he is of Myrkálfar stock.”

“Ljósálfar and Myrkálfar elves are not mutually incompatible, you know, and there are light elves with green eyes and red hair.”

“Strawberry blonde is hardly red.”

“Let’s not go off on a tangent that leads to nothing but conjecture,” Sgott said heavily. “I will talk to Kaitlyn again once?—”

“I need to talk to her, Sgott. I saw her dead. She might not believe it coming from you, but she’s well aware I have my mother’s skills and will believe me.”

Which might not make her any more inclined to give me the information we needed, but it did give me a slight advantage.

He studied me for a moment. “Fine. But please go home and rest after that.”

“I will, I promise.”

He grunted, a disbelieving sound if I’d ever heard one. He got out his phone and recorded both our statements, a process that seemed to take forever rather than the ten minutes or so it actually did.

“And you’ve no idea where you’ve met this elf before?” he asked.

“None, but I was probably in my late teens from what he said, so that’s not surprising.”