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“It’s even worse inside.”

“Something to look forward to at least.”

Swiveling in her seat, she got out of the car. “In and out, Westvane. I don’t want to be here long.”

“Agreed.” Already standing on the sidewalk, he scanned both sides of the street.

She watched him, trying to gauge his mood. Serious. Intent. Hyper alert, more than the usual amount. The realization sent a shiver down her spine. Something was wrong. The smell, perhaps. The odd vibration in the air, maybe. Westvane’s reaction, without a doubt. At the moment, however, putting her finger on what bothered her wasn’t important. Getting out of the open, into the office and behind closed doors, seemed more the priority.

Westvane’s eyes narrowed on a junkyard down the street. “Truly.”

“I feel it.” Rounding the hood, she joined him on the sidewalk. “Front door’s around the corner.”

“Go. I’ll follow.”

She didn’t question him. Truly moved instead, her focus on making it to the office door. An engine revved on the street. The low rumble fractured the quiet, raising the hair on the back of her neck as Westvane pivoted, moving out in front of her to face the coming threat.

* * *

His attention split,Westvane kept his gaze on the vehicle at the end of the street, but listened for Truly. Her footfalls struck concrete. The rapid rap-rap-rap rippled down the sidewalk, joining the sound of an engine revving, drifting on the stench of exhaust fumes, into dark corners best left undisturbed. A few more strides, and she’d clear the corner of the building. The entrance lay beyond that, a straight shot from curb to front stoop.

He needed her through the door before he made his move. Otherwise, she wouldn’t make it inside.

The set-up in front of the junkyard didn’t look good. Two sedans. Dark paint. Engines running. Headlights off. Drivers crouched behind dashboards, focus locked on him, as multiple passengers sat hunched in the backseats. He resisted the urge to shake his head. How the idiots expected to hide from him was anyone’s guess. Not the sharpest tools in the shed, but that didn’t make the humans any less dangerous.

The street-side ambush was a bold move. Open air. An adequate amount of room to maneuver. Lots of time for him to react. Advantage —him. Certain death —them. As he’d first thought — not the sharpest-minded he’d ever seen.

Which left him two options.

Turn and follow Truly into the relative safety of Montrose & Brim. Or approach the idiots and start cracking skulls.

Option number two suited him best. He excelled at breaking bones, but as he stood on cracked concrete lining the street, Westvane questioned the brutal thrust of his plan. He was in a new world with a different set of rules, and the fools inside the vehicles hadn’t offended him yet. He didn’t like their eyes on him. He didn’t like the swell of hostility emanating from the sedans on a silent street. He didn’t like the idea they might be lying in wait for Truly… or him.

His lip curled, baring the tips of his pointed canines.

Lyonesse had been busy. He’d expected her to pull some strings, but not so soon. The fact she’d mobilized support on this side of theEcotonein less than twenty-four hours impressed him. He should’ve seen it coming. Honoring her word had never counted as a moral imperative for the queen, so no real need for him to speculate. She was hedging her bets, sabotaging him before he began, and yet, Westvane paused to consider his next move in the game.

Confirming his suspicions about Lyonesse by taking his prey alive might benefit him more than killing them all. He needed to know who his enemies were in Earth Realm, and the interrogation methods he employed always provided results, along with all kinds of interesting intel.

No surprise there.

He was an Assenta, born and bred. A hunter without equal, and playing with his prey came with the territory. Even so, he never attacked without provocation… or proof of wrong-doing. He would defend himself if approached. He would maim and destroy to preserve his own life and complete a mission. Sad to say, but the humans sitting in cars that matched the dilapidated condition of the neighborhood hadn’t crossed any lines. Or met what he considered the prerequisite burden of proof.

Not yet.

Maybe, they wouldn’t cross the line. Maybe, the group wasn’t interested in him — or Truly. A pity if it turned out that way. After dealing with the Door Master — and her attitude — since crossing theEcotone, he needed a good fight. Smashing heads together never failed to improve his mood.

Headlights came on in the lead car.

Only then did he hear it — a series of clicks.

Quiet sounds.

Barely there.

Hardly noticeable.

His keen senses picked up each noise. He wasn’t human. His abilities — physical and magical — gave him skills humans couldn’t match. He saw in the dark. Heard things even his own kind couldn’t. Was able to tear apart a magic-wielding Electi with his bare hands, so… humans weren’t much of a threat to him.