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He wasn’t going to kill him, of course. Not really. Alastair wasn’t unreasonable, after all.

Just really fucking pissed off.

“Find out everything he knows. I want a name, even if you have to carve it out of him,” Alastair hissed at Ferus, handing him the knife, handle first. He said it loud enough for the Demon to hear. Ferus nodded, taking the blade, and palming it with another grunt. It was for show. Alastair knew from experience that Ferus would have the guy talking in five minutes flat, without getting even a drop of blood on that blade.

That’s why Alastair hired him.

And if Ferus couldn’t get it out of him, well…

Alastair had plenty of other tricks up his sleeve to get the answers he wanted.

Alastair turned and left, shutting the stockroom door behind him and leaving Ferus to work his magic. No one would hear the motherfucker scream, not over the club music blaring throughout the place tonight.

With a groan, Alastair leaned back against the door. He reached up, brushing his black hair back and out of his face. A headache was starting to form behind his eyes, and the flashing lights and constant noise from his club weren’t helping.

“You get a name yet?”

He opened his eyes to see Jasper standing in front of him, a glass of whiskey in his outstretched hand and a lazy crooked grin on his face. Alastair gave him a nod of thanks and took the drink from him. He swallowed the entire thing in a single go.

Jasper was the bartender who had smelled the guy tonight, and even though he’d only been working with Alastair for a few years, he was quickly becoming his favorite employee. He had a sixth sense for when Alastair needed a drink, and the Goddess knew that was the sort of talent he needed to keep around.

Not to mention the fucker was handsome enough to keep women coming back time and time again, wearing less and less clothing, trying to catch Jasper’s eye.

A few of the males, too.

Alastair handed him back the empty glass. “No, not yet. But Ferus will get it out of him.” He tried rolling his shoulders, hoping to work out some of the tension in them. No such luck. “Thanks for the heads up about him. And for the drink.”

Jasper just nodded. A Wolf of few words.

“If anyone comes looking for me, tell them I’ll be in my office, okay?”

Alastair left before Jasper answered, pushing his way from behind the bar, into the crowd and past the VIP rope on the second floor. A few women eyed him hungrily from the dance floor, but he wasn’t in the mood for company tonight, not with the shit he was dealing with. The club was bouncing tonight, and even though it was early, he could tell they were already near capacity. The bouncers at the door would be turning people away tonight, which was fine by him. A full club meant money in his pocket.

The music was quieter up on the second floor, and as Alastair moved into the back hallways, his headache was finally feeling manageable. Or maybe it was the shot of whiskey finally working its way through his system. Who could know for sure?

He needed a shower to wash the stench of that Demon’s terror off himself, but it would have to wait. He had a few hours of work left to do while he waited for Ferus to deliver that name, so he figured he might as well get started and?—

Alastair froze mid-step, directly outside his office door, and his nostrils flared as he smelled an intruder.

What the fuck was a Witch doing in his office?

It was unmistakable, that scent of power from the other side of the door. Alastair clenched his teeth together to keep from snarling, rage growing inside of him. As if he wasn’t already in a foul fucking mood. She wasn’t even being subtle. Alastair couldn’t just smell her, he could hear her inside his office, shuffling papers around.

Fucking little thief.

Well. If she can sneak into his office, two can play that game. She wouldn’t even fathom the tricks he had up his sleeve.

So many in our world believe power is finite. That’s why it’s becoming less with each generation—as we grow in numbers, as we overpopulate, that power is stretched thinner and thinner leaving less of it to go around. They say that’s why the oldest of our kind are the strongest, and why some of our gifts are fading.

But Alastair never believed that shit. Even before he realized his strength rivaled that of the oldest Vamps, he hadn’t believed it. Power wasn’t fading from the world, far from it. It was just consolidating. And he had enough of that power flowing through his veins to know that beyond a shadow of a doubt.

Alastair put his hand against the door to his office and smiled. After all, these were the same idiots who believed there weren’t any Vampires capable of immaterialization left.

Focusing on the sensation of the wood of his office door against his palm, Alastair took a deep breath and let himself slip out of existence. It was easy once you got the hang of it. One moment you were here, and the next, poof you were nothing but a thin shadow.

The old-world Vampires called it Shadow Walking, and as far as he knew, Alastair was the only one left who could do it. It was his little secret, even from his family.

Especially from his family.