Page 8 of The Enemy to the Living (The Wild Hunt #2)

Asher

O h, I know full well that Quinn has no intention of telling me shit. Why would he? He doesn’t trust me—doesn’t trust anyone, from what I can gather.

But I’m not one to leave things to chance. After a brief nap and a shower, I slip out of our base before either Grant or Vlad can stop me and head over to Kieran’s pack building. The wards are bright, merrily shining away, so I slip into the shadows across the road and settle in to wait.

Of course I have no idea if Quinn is in the building. I have no idea if he has a fight tonight. But he’s our best lead for finding where the twins might be hiding, at least until Maurice comes back with some vampire contacts to help out.

Luck blesses me tonight. People come and go from the building, only half of whom I recognise, but Quinn lets himself gingerly outside about an hour after sundown.

He moves furtively but quickly, shoulders hunched up around his ears.

Somehow, he looks even more wrung out than he did after our conversation this morning, and that observation makes me frown.

I’ve heard nothing but good things about his pack and the man who leads it. Even Maurice has said they seem fierce and protective, that they didn’t hesitate to offer space for the fae who might need it.

But then why is Quinn hiding this from them? How did he find out about the fae and their fights at all?

They are questions for some other time. Some other life, even. For me, now, I need to find these high fae and stop them before they cause any trouble. I fully agree with Maurice that there are fae who need our help, who have been here without causing trouble and should be allowed to stay.

But high fae? They are dangerous. Always. Our Huntsman included.

I shadow Quinn down the street and onto the tube. It is still busy, and he is so caught up in his own thoughts that he does not notice.

That has me frowning, too. He should . I am not using my blessing to hide my tracks; I cannot trust it, and I will need to put all my energy into keeping myself hidden should Quinn lead me to the new venue. Quinn has spoken to me before. He was close to me hours ago.

His wolf should have alerted him to my presence if nothing else.

Puzzled, I follow Quinn out of the tube stop and down another street.

There are no crowds here, so I am careful to drop back and make myself as unobtrusive as possible.

He does not seem paranoid about being followed, at least. If anything, he seems focused on where he is going, checking his phone again and again as he takes strange turns about the place.

We round another corner—me several feet behind—and I come to a stop, ducking into shadows when I see the fae standing at the mouth of an alley.

They are not the same one who was guarding the last place, but they seem to recognise Quinn all the same. The two speak briefly and then Quinn moves past them, into the magical shadows that keep the place from view.

I lean back against the wall, thinking. I should call Vlad or Maurice, but both will insist on coming here, and I don’t want to show our hand right away. Vlad and I were not able to really get close to the twins last time. If they slip through our grasp again, who’s to say that they’ll come back?

If I go in alone, I can get the lay of the land. I know what to expect from Quinn, so I can use my blessing to keep myself hidden from magic, and I am certain not many before got a good look at my face.

I nod and straighten my jacket. I’ll go, and I’ll get out, and I’ll report back to Vlad about what I saw.

I approach the fae slowly, and they watch me with too-dark eyes.

They’re wearing a glamour, naturally, but I see their magic seeping around the edges, ready to strike.

I’m pretty sure all their previous guards were trolls, more for physical violence than magical, so I wonder if this change is because of us.

I drag my blessing in all the same, making it small and neat, like a witch’s power rather than what the Huntsman gave me. Any fae checking carefully will know the difference, but I don’t think this one will look too hard.

Sure enough, they don’t. Their eyes roam my face as though looking for something, but after a moment or so, they give me a sultry smile, and I bite back one of my own. I might not be immediately striking in the way vampires are, but what I’ve got works when it needs to.

“Sure you’re in the right place?” the fae asks, sidling a little closer. I think they’re a gancanagh from the way their magic is pulsing as they flirt. “Wouldn’t want that pretty face to get all messed up.”

Pretty? Well. I’ve been called a lot of things but never that. This fae is working hard for it. I smile all the same.

“Oh, I’m not planning to fight,” I say, “just a little flutter.”

“A little?”

“I don’t like to lose.”

The fae snorts and shakes their head before they step aside. “Well, go on then.”

I head towards the shadows, stomach already clenching at the claustrophobia I’m going to have to go through before I get into the pub, but pause when the fae puts a hand on my arm.

Some more of their magic reaches out this time—not enough to bewitch any human, truth be told, but enough that I know it’s intentional.

“I finish at midnight,” they say. “If you’re still around…?”

“If I’m still around, sure,” I reply. I have no intention of being, though even if I am, I won’t be going anywhere with this fae.

The fae nods and lets go of my arm, leaving me to walk determinedly into the shadows. I don’t falter. Can’t raise suspicion. I’m not sure whether it’s good or bad that this fae has taken such notice of my face, considering the next time I come back I’ll probably have Maurice and Vlad in tow.

Whatever. I can worry about that later. For now, I concentrate on my breaths as the shadows press in around me, putting one step in front of the other on pure instinct.

It feels like an age before I step into light, another cramped, cosy room that serves as the entryway to this place.

This place… I glance up above the bar. This place that has the same name as the last. I frown, looking about.

It looks exactly the same, in fact, which means that the shadows likely have little to do with hiding an entrance and more to do with transporting the walker to a slightly different place.

Although… There was a back door last time. I never truly investigated where it spat us out, but I might try for that tonight.

The bartender is a different fae too, thank the gods, so I wander over and order myself a drink. She’s a glaistig, hooves clopping against tiles as she gets me a beer, and we hardly exchange ten words as I take the drink and pay.

Noise comes from the next room, the one I can see contains the cage. It’s almost as busy as it was the other night, which comes as a surprise.

How do all the patrons know where to come? The twins must have some way of telling them.

I drink a few sips before I sidle over to the next room. I keep my face turned away from the shadowed booth in the corner, checking that my blessing is firmly remaining where it is supposed to. I have no backup should things go to shit, and if I reveal myself, they almost certainly will.

The place is full of fae again, of course, but I spot the odd wolf or vampire through the crowd.

Fewer than last time. I wander through the crowd, careful to keep my back to the corner and not to get too close, but there’s no way to strike up a conversation.

Two fae are fighting in the cage, and everyone’s attention is on them.

The kelpie loses, collapsing on the mats soundlessly, and the selkie who was fighting bares her teeth. Trolls come in and drag the kelpie out, taking him into a back room, and I watch the selkie pace back and forth, her coat in a heap behind her.

She’s vicious-looking, on the small side even for a selkie, who tend towards sleek, slender glamours when they’re not in their seal forms. Blood smears her knuckles, but I didn’t see a scrape on the kelpie, so I wonder if that came from another fight.

“Bet?” a gravelly voice says next to me, and I look up into the face of a troll. He glares down at me, and I indicate the cage with my beer.

“Who’s up?”

“The wolf pup,” he says.

Quinn? Has to be.

“What do people bet here?”

“Whatever they want.”

Yeah, all right. I’m not going to act too rashly. I reach into my pocket and drag out an old tenner, then slap it into his palm. The troll scowls—clearly, they don’t deal much in currency—but hey, he said whatever I want.

“On the pup,” I say, and the scowl only deepens. Still, he scratches something down on the notepad he’s holding and then turns and vanishes into the crowd.

I don’t give him too much thought. No doubt he’ll be back if I win—trolls might have a reputation among humans for not being clever at all, but that’s not the truth of it.

Sure, they’re big, burly fighters, but they’re also stubborn in a way that often manifests in a strange, determined diligence.

Like all fae, they can’t lie, but trolls are known for being the most straightforward and honest of all the species.

My attention snaps back to the cage when Quinn climbs up into it. He’s shirtless tonight, and my breath catches in my throat. I shouldn’t be surprised by the way he looks. I know how big he is. Clothes can’t hide everything.

I never anticipated the bulge of his arms, though, or the way his pecs flex when he moves. Fuck. I take a gulp of my beer, the back of my neck prickling with heat. I’m old enough that I should have better control over myself than this, and my blessing feels the slip, reaching out, reaching for—

I drag it back, fingers tightening on the cold glass I’m holding. I don’t really want to alert Quinn to my presence, either. He’s here to fight, and it’s not fair that I distract him from that.

It is hard to focus on what is sensible, though, as the fight begins. In the cage, Quinn is nothing like the wolf I have spoken to outside of it. He faces the selkie completely without fear, despite the fact that she is fast, claws out and ready to shred him to ribbons.

I circle slightly to the right, trying to keep Quinn in view. He dodges most of her hits, surprisingly fast despite his size. Of course a wolf has a great many advantages over the average fae, but I don’t think he knows that and besides, he hasn’t shifted.

He doesn’t shift at all, in fact. Doesn’t pay attention to the crowd either, most of which is baying for him to lose.

The selkie is a favourite, it seems, but that doesn’t appear to matter to Quinn at all.

He observes her as he dodges each hit, eyes narrowing when she clearly grows angrier and angrier.

When he strikes, it is so fast that I almost miss it.

His fist snaps out, catching her in the centre of her chest, and she stumbles backwards, all the breath knocked out of her.

She recovers quickly but not quickly enough.

Quinn is on her before she can push back off from the edge of the cage, and another punch sends her to the mats.

She is not unconscious; I hear her faint groan of pain.

She yields before Quinn can strike again. He retreats to the other side of the cage and leans back against the wire. Mouth dry despite the beer I’ve been drinking, I study him, the fae around me entirely forgotten.

I have never before seen anyone take out a fae so quickly.

Maurice is fast with his dagger, and Vlad and Jeremiah are almost as speedy, being as they are all vampires, but Quinn has something else about him, something I have never seen from them.

He has taught himself how to fight the fae and has ended up as someone, at least in terms of skills, I believe the Huntsman would not hesitate to recruit.

I snort softly, the thought dragging me back to here and now.

The selkie gets stiffly to her feet and snatches up her coat, giving Quinn an impressive glare as she passes him by.

The crowd boos, but there are scattered cheers for him too, and I am sure by the end of his bouts, they will have turned in his favour.

The troll appears at my side. “This round?”

“The pup again.”

I don’t even look at him, just feel his presence move away. Quinn’s breathing is steady. His hands are loose, stance relaxed.

It would be easy to think that he is calm. That he feels nothing to be here; he simply wishes to fight.

But I look at his face. His eyes. A fire is banked within them, and it flares brightly as his next opponent steps into the cage. Another wolf.

Quinn pushes off from the edge of the cage and I circle around to get a better look. Oh, he’ll win again. I have no doubt about that.