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Inside the dumpster were three werewolves—big muscly guys who looked thick enough to rip their shirts if they flexed. All of them knocked unconscious, and all of them looked like they’d gotten run over by a semitruck. They were alive, though. I could see their chests moving, and one of them groaned.

What could have done this to three werewolves?

My work mode activated, and I spoke without thinking—or worrying. “We’ve got three downed werewolves,” I called to Brody. “All three are breathing, but they’re wounded. Nothing life threatening.”

“Got it. I’ll come grab ‘em. If we’re lucky, I’ll recognize them and know what Pack they belong to,” Brody said.

“Wait,” I said. “Call it in first—so the Cloisters have a record.”

“What’s this?” A deep, throaty voice purred overhead. “I thought this might call out the local vermin, but I didn’t expect to catch a lost slayer.”

I stayed crouched on the edge of the dumpster and peered up, following the sound of the voice to a tiny fire escape made of steel grating that was tucked against a door leading to the brick building’s second story.

The vampire stood there—tall and threatening—blending in with the shadows so well that I almost didn’t see him.

The hood of his dark, charcoal gray jacket was pulled up and shading his face, so I only saw the glimmer of his red eyes. He leaned against the building with a lazy confidence surveying me like a king looking down at a peasant—or maybe like a predator watching his food, if I wanted to be more correct.

“What are you doing so far from your family, slayer?” the vampire asked, his voice sinfully smooth. (It was designed to pull victims in—everything about vampires was designed to lull potential victims into doing what the vampire wanted.) “You’re all alone.”

“She’s not alone—she has back up!” Brody bristled from his spot by the car. His werewolf instincts must have kicked in because he was standing in front of Grove, covering the fae from any potential attacks.

If I’d been less keyed in on the danger, I would have thanked Brody for his moral support but with the vampire staring down at us I only allowed myself a flash of warmth.

The vampire deigned to stir from his relaxed position as he chuckled. “You werewolves at least can be funny—unless…were you serious? You really thinkyouand the fae who stinks of foul potions count as backup?”

Brody growled and widened his stance as if he was preparing to pounce, but he held his ground and glanced at me.

“We’re with the Curia Cloisters. We’re part of the Magic Response Task Force.” I tried to watch the vampire for any changes in his body language.

He only went back to leaning against the building, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “A Curia Cloisters task force? What a quaint idea.”

“Ah-hah!” Grove exclaimed, still hidden by Brody’s bulk. “You sound surprised by the idea, so you’re new in town!”

The vampire planted a hand over his heart. “You make shockingly accurate observations. I am no match for such an astute fae as you.”

Grove peered over Brody’s shoulder so he could get a good look at the vampire, his face bunching up. “Oh, I get it. You didn’t mean that. Hey!” Grove yelped when Brody stepped on his foot.

“Stop talking,” Brody barked.

I risked glancing down at the knocked-out werewolves. “This is your work?”

“You said you represent the Curia Cloisters?” the vampire asked.

“Yeah,” Grove confirmed before Brody hip checked him.

“In that case, no,” the vampire said.

“Then how did these three wolves get beat up and dumped in a dumpster?” I asked.

“I’m sure I wouldn’t know,” the vampire said. “Given their likely IQ, I’d say it was probably their fault because they lack intelligence.”

I looked at the beaten werewolves and their blood-spattered clothes, then back up at the vampire.

His jacket and pants weren’t even wrinkled. I couldn’t see his face so I suppose one of the wolves could have landed a hit there, but I didn’t think so.

I could feel the power he oozed. I was pretty sure he had it dialed down and was only letting enough out so I’d know he was too big a predator to mess with.

If he’s powerful enough to take on three werewolves, he’s gotta be strong. If he can control the power he’s radiating, that means he must be at least an Elder vampire. But what’s he doing without any minions? Those guys never go anywhere without at least a couple of their offspring around to do their dirty work. Unless this is a trap and they’re lying in wait?