Page 8 of A Token of Blood and Betrayal (Kennedy Rain #4)

A strange punch of emotion thumped against my chest. It felt too hollow to be suspicion.

Was it jealousy? Because she and Melissa had time to hang out?

Astrid and I had been close friends when we were kids.

Now that she’d returned The Rain, we should have been making up for lost time, laughing and joking about all the crazy pranks we’d played back then.

Instead, we barely had time to hang out, and I’d been feeling more and more isolated over time.

In college, I’d grown used to being around friends and having my guard down.

That wasn’t possible anymore, even with my promise to visit Carrie soon.

She and John had driven out here last week, threatening an intervention if I attempted to ditch them.

If I kept putting off hanging out, they were going to come back to The Rain, probably at the worst possible time given my luck lately.

“I’m sure Christian told her,” I said to Astrid. “It’s not a big deal. Just make sure she doesn’t tell anyone.”

“Yeah. No problem. She won’t say anything.

” Astrid had more confidence than I did, but it’s easier to judge someone when you take the time to develop a friendship.

It hadn’t even occurred to me to try to get to know Melissa.

Maybe I was holding a grudge—Blake certainly was—but there was some other kind of disconnect between us.

Just something that felt out of sync, which could very well have been me.

I was the human upending the paranormal world. I brought friction everywhere I went.

Giving Astrid another smile to assure her it was okay, I led the way out of Deagan’s suite and back downstairs.

Astrid reclaimed her place on her couch, and Melissa waved when I said goodbye.

I stepped out into the night and drew in a deep breath to reset myself.

It was time to refocus on my most urgent problem.

I made a loop through the hotel, searching for Garion in all the logical places, and a few illogical ones as well. He didn’t seem like the kind of man who’d go to the Valkyries’ fight club, but since they held it behind the barn-converted-to-staff-residence, it wouldn’t cost any effort to check.

Any extra effort, because the Barn was located at the highest point on our property, and my ribs and back reminded me they still hadn’t fully healed.

The pain was more frustrating than debilitating at this point, so I endured, and before I crested the hill, the wind carried the sounds of whoops and excited shouts indicating someone was likely getting punched in the face.

Landscape lights illuminated the wooden exterior.

The red painted planks were faded in a way that made the renovated building look rustic and charming.

Additional lights glowed on the ground floor and second-story porches, both of which wrapped almost completely around the Barn.

Despite the cloud cover, I could make out the staff and catch occasional glimpses of the two individuals facing off in the center of them.

Both men were shirtless and both were covered in mud. They stood in the same area where previous fight nights had been held, and the recent rain had turned the already trampled earth soft and squishy.

One lean, broad-shouldered fighter had his back to me. The other was Isaiah, one of the vampire staff members.

And one of my murder suspects.

Technically, everyone working for me was a suspect, but Isaiah and I hadn’t gotten off to the best start.

He was the vampire who’d bitten Melissa.

Turned out, he was right to assume she was a vampire, but he hadn’t moved past the fact that I’d told him he had to pay for the treatment of Melissa’s injury and for her “pain and suffering.”

I scanned the spectators as I joined them. They didn’t notice me, not even Thordis and Phedre, when I stood just behind them. They were all too engaged in the fight. An oof and then a collective cringe from the crowd made me focus on it too.

Isaiah’s opponent had fallen in the muck. Isaiah darted in to finish him. The man tried to roll out of the way and back to his feet, but he couldn’t get traction. He slipped and fell.

Isaiah had the same issue, misaimed, and landed straight on his left hip, which would have hurt if the ground had been harder.

I didn’t see the face of the second man until both fighters were standing again. Christian.

Was I surprised to see him there? No.

Was I surprised to see him fighting? Also no, even though he shouldn’t be.

Arcuro had knocked him across a room and almost choked him to death.

Astrid’s poultices had sped up his healing, erasing the bruises from his neck and helping bones mend, but it would take a few more days for our bodies to fully heal.

Thordis whooped when Christian landed a solid kick to Isaiah’s ribs.

“Nice one!” she yelled. Then her shoulders slumped. “It makes no sense he won’t have sex with me.”

“It makes perfect sense,” Phedre replied. “He has refined tastes.”

Thordis glared at her… partner? Friend? Sister?

I didn’t know their relationship or why they’d taken jobs at The Rain.

Most, if not all, the staff members were hiding from some situation in the outside world.

I assumed Thordis and Phedre were too, especially since they were Valkyrie.

They’d likely pissed off plenty of people.

Thordis’s glare left when she shrugged. “You might be right. But if we both approach him…” She waggled her eyebrows.

A grin touched Phedre’s lips. “We could—”

“I doubt he’s into threesomes,” I said.

Both Valkyrie spun toward me, smiles gone and eyes wide.

“Right,” Thordis said quickly. “He wouldn’t… We wouldn’t… I don’t think anyone would suggest—”

Phedre elbowed her in the ribs. Both went still and quiet, which were two words I’d never have used to describe them before that moment.

Valkyrie were weird.

“Christian shouldn’t be fighting,” I said.

As if he’d heard his name, Christian’s gaze shot my direction. His blue eyes met mine for one brief second—just long enough for recognition and a beat of connection between humans—but it was also enough time for Isaiah to land a solid blow to his face.

I cringed with the rest of the spectators.

Christian managed to stay on his feet. Isaiah had expected him to go down, which was probably why he didn’t move for several seconds.

Christian took advantage, bulleting forward to take him to the ground.

He maneuvered behind the vampire and locked in a choke hold, then he rolled, forcing Isaiah’s face into the mud. Isaiah had no choice except to tap out.

Thordis and Phedre whooped. The rest of the staff joined them. I kept quiet but smiled. Christian was damn impressive. And classy. Once he was back on his feet, he offered his hand to Isaiah.

Isaiah glared at it. There was no way he’d accept help from Christian. Christian had thrown the vampire through a window because he’d taken a swing at Melissa, something that was absolutely not acceptable in the human world. Outside of it, the—

Isaiah grasped Christian’s hand, and Christian pulled him to his feet. They exchanged words that didn’t look pissed off. The vampire even had a smile on his face.

I would never understand how men could go from punching each other to respectful claps on the back.

When Christian turned and began to make his way toward the back porch, I snapped my mouth shut.

The fight was over. I needed to stop dawdling and to focus, so I scanned the ring of spectators as it collapsed, searching for Garion even though I hadn’t seen him when I’d looked before.

With all the bets settling and the rising hum of conversation, he would have been noticeable rooted quietly in his bubble of space.

He wasn’t there, but one person caught my interest, and it took a moment to figure out why. The man was only vaguely familiar. He wasn’t on staff, and we didn’t currently have guests, so who…

I turned to stare at Phedre and Thordis. “Is that the delivery guy?”

Both Valkyries’ eyes went just as wide as when I’d first appeared.

Phedre’s gaze darted to the man. “No?”

“Phedre.” I dragged her name out.

“Yes?” she responded.

“Yes, you invited the deliveryman?” She didn’t have to answer. I knew it was him. The Rain’s staff didn’t leave the property. Everything they wanted or needed was shipped here. This guy—Roger or Ron or something like that—started the route a few weeks ago. “You can’t invite humans here.”

“Your friends were here,” Phedre said.

“They were here uninvited, and it was a problem. Escort him out before he learns something he shouldn’t. And don’t invite him again.”

Phedre’s mouth flattened into something remarkably similar to a pout. She looked at Thordis, and Thordis’s eyebrows rose. A moment passed before Thordis let out a disgruntled, “Fine,” then headed toward the delivery man.

After a pointed look at Phedre, I walked toward Christian.

One of Isaiah’s punches left a cut across his right cheek bone.

Blood and muck blended together in a thick paste that would undoubtedly cause an infection.

Fortunately, Christian had brought his mini-hospital.

He opened the well-stocked trauma kit and took out one of those instant cold packs.

“You’re bleeding,” I said.

He met my gaze briefly, then looked toward the staff. “Hey.”

Isaiah glanced up just in time to catch the pack Christian threw. He raised it in appreciation, then returned to his conversation, probably paying off a wager or ten.

Christian grabbed a water bottle and twisted off the top.

“Was this the greatest idea when you’re still hurt?” I asked after he’d chugged nearly half the bottle.

He shrugged. “I won.”

I scowled. “Not the point.”