Page 10

Maurice

I don’t push too hard when Njáll tells me he wants to spend the night alone, even if all my senses are screaming at me that he’s hiding something I really should dig into. I’m more concerned about this vampire, and if I’m lucky, I might catch up to her and Afsaneh before they leave.

I find them, in fact, just about to get in a car outside the clan house. Afsaneh frowns when she sees me, but I think more from confusion than any ill will.

“Maurice?” she says when I approach. “Is everything okay with Njáll?”

“Yes, he’s fine. May I have a moment with Samantha?”

The vampire is only in her sixties, and this attack—or her lack of memory of it—really seems to have done a number on her. She shakes when Afsaneh nods and watches her chieftain closely as Afsaneh climbs gracefully into the car to wait.

“Whatever you tell me, it’ll stay between us,” I say, and Samantha looks at the car again, but a bit more pointedly this time.

I sigh and move a little further down the pavement. Samantha follows. I can’t ensure Afsaneh won’t hear anything, but I need to know if Samantha remembers more than she has told us.

“Do you remember anything else?” I ask. “Anyone who seemed human, but something was off? Do you remember the taste of blood?”

She shakes her head, wrapping her arms around her torso as if to comfort herself. “I nipped to the shops,” she says miserably. “Me and Carrie, we like to get a bottle of wine in, pretend like it still gets us drunk. So I bought it, and then I walked back to my flat.”

“You remember that? You remember buying it and then walking back?”

Samantha frowns, nibbling on her lower lip before she replies. “I remember… I remember going into the shop. It took me a minute to choose the wine because they didn’t have the one I usually buy, and I wasn’t sure whether to get a different white or try a rosé.”

“Not a red?”

“No,” she says, and her lips twitch like she wants to smile. “It’s not my favourite, and it looks like blood. If we’re gonna do that, we might as well drink the real thing, you know?”

“I understand. So you picked a new bottle. White or rosé?”

“White,” she replies, voice certain. “I remember it was a little cheaper than the one we usually get, so I thought if we both liked it, I’d get it again. I said goodbye and left the shop.”

“And how far is the shop from your flat?”

“About five minutes. It’s around the corner.”

“But you didn’t make it back?”

“Apparently not.”

“What time did you go out?”

“Just after sundown. I’d been thinking all last night that I needed to go early because I hadn’t had time to pick up the wine and Carrie was coming over at nine.”

The hunter was attacked just after ten o’clock. It’s a small window—though she’s a vampire, so she can cover a lot of ground quickly.

But if she’s right, and I don’t doubt this part of her story, then it’s a smaller window too for someone to have caught her off-guard. Either the attacker was lying in wait for Samantha specifically, or they were looking for any vampire from Afsaneh’s district.

“You don’t remember drinking anything at all?”

“No,” Samantha says, frowning. “No, I—No.”

She’s not lying, not as far as I can tell, and that will have to be enough. If anything, she appears more worried than before. I give her the most reassuring smile I can hope for and gesture to the car. “Thank you for your help.”

Samantha nods warily but gets in, and I watch as the car drives away. Vlad has given me a rundown of the different territories in London, so I know Afsaneh’s reach. I know, too, where the other vampire drank fae blood, and it’s only just beyond Afsaneh’s borders.

I glance back at the clan house. Njáll will be fine for a few hours. This fae, whoever they are, is beginning to escalate in their behaviour, but it’s a leap from a couple of young vampires to the crai. He’s old enough to take care of himself.

I shove my hands into my pockets and walk away.

The pub is easy enough for me to find. It practically pulses with fae magic, which wakes the blessing in my blood, luring me in like a siren’s call.

I stand outside for a moment, looking up at the sign—a man’s face, green, hollow eyes staring out from a cluster of leaves.

An obvious marker if I’ve ever seen one.

Vlad wasn’t joking about the number of fae here.

I steel myself before I push through the doors. The pub itself is dark, music too loud, all panelled wood and hidden corners. Heavy air presses in around me.

I miss my former freedom with a sudden intensity that makes my chest ache. The reminder has me squaring my shoulders. The sooner I find this fae, the sooner I can bargain my way back to where I belong.

More than just fae are in here, of course. Vampires, wolves, humans… Some with magic, some without. Those with—and all the non-humans—give me a wide berth. The bartender is human, though, and looks me over with no small amount of disdain.

“You here to cause trouble?”

I lean on the bar and eye him back with just as much disinterest. “No.”

“You look like you are.” He picks up a glass and pours a drink. Not for me. “Don’t.”

I roll my eyes because I’m not about to let this human try to intimidate me, but the figure I spot out of the corner of my eye has my breath catching in my chest.

Njáll.

I look over—because it can’t really be him—but there he is, leaning back against the wall and feigning disinterest in the two pretty fae who have him cornered.

He looks… good, in this lighting. Brooding seriousness rolls off him in waves, and the fae both seem to be into it if the way they’re crowding into his space is any clue.

One of them says something to him, leaning up to whisper in his ear, and I see the way Njáll’s jaw clenches.

I feel their magic, too. It’s subtle; they’re not controlling him. They can’t do that, since neither are high fae, and he does not appear to have drunk from them. But they’re tempting him. Offering him something they know he wants, in exchange for—

Fuck. The bartender grumbles as I push away from the bar, but I don’t look back. Fuck him. Fuck this. Fuck the Huntsman too, for good measure. Here I am, on the hunt for someone who’s actually dangerous, and instead, I’m a glorified fucking childminder for a vampire who’s old enough to know better.

It’s maybe ten paces before I reach Njáll and his new friends, but that’s plenty of time to work myself up into a frenzy.

“The fuck is this?” I snap, and one of the fae—the one standing closest to Njáll—flinches as though I’ve slapped him.

The other is posturing. Honestly. Like I can’t take out a gancanagh in my sleep.

“You’re not supposed to be here.” He pouts.

“I can go where I please. But you cannot try to bewitch a vampire. You know the rules.”

At least he’d fucking better. Otherwise, what’s the point of the Hunt having a base here?

“No interfering with humans,” the fae replies. His smile is a little smug.

I want to punch it off his face.

I’ve also just realised his hand is in the back pocket of Njáll’s trousers, the little shit. Groping him like that—Njáll is coming back to himself now, but they’d taken him deeper than I thought when I was at the bar.

The first fae scarpers. Doesn’t even run, just pops out of existence. At least I won’t have to worry about him for a while—teleportation takes it way out of them.

The second realises his friend is gone, and panic finally enters his expression. “I’m sorry,” he says and raises his hands when I look pointedly at where the right one is resting. “I-I mean it, okay? We were just looking for some fun.”

“Not with him you’re not. Now fuck off before I change my mind and toss you back through the veil myself.”

He nods and vanishes just like the first did. Good to see I’ve still got it, though my mostly banked anger flares up again when I look at Njáll.

He doesn’t say anything. He just stares at me like I’m the one who’s not supposed to be here, like all of that was fine and I’m the enemy for sending away two fae who were clearly going to take advantage of him.

Njáll frowns and pushes off from the wall, but no. Fuck that.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?”

He has the audacity to look confused, then angry. “Me? What are you doing here?”

“Hunt business.” My tone is a little haughty, perhaps, but I cannot bring myself to care. “Were you going to enter a bargain with them?”

He has to say no. He can’t be that foolish. He’s been around long enough to know that entering into a bargain with the fae would be—

The tips of his ears go pink and my entire body floods with rage. Only the fact that I know we’re being watched—by everyone in this bar, I would imagine—has me keeping my voice steady.

“What. Were. You. Thinking?”

“I was not going to enter a bargain,” Njáll says, but he doesn’t seem certain. Anger takes over his expression, then something more defiant than my own. “And what does it matter if I did?”

“What does it matter?” I am looking after a fool of a vampire, that is for certain. How could the ex-crai have ever thought him suitable for this role? If he does not understand how vulnerable he makes his clan, how can he ever protect them? “Are you really that ignorant of who you are?”

“I know exactly who I am.”

The hairs on the back of my neck prickle.

We’re still being watched, and now that we are arguing, people are beginning to take even more notice.

We cannot do this here. Watching over Njáll for the Huntsman includes, I suppose, keeping him in the same state as the one I found him in. His position and all.

“Come on,” I hiss and push enough magic into my voice that the inside of my throat tickles. If Njáll feels it, he doesn’t react, but at least this way, he’s sure to follow. “We’ll talk about this outside.”

The bartender glares at us as we make our way over to the door, but thankfully, no one attempts to accost us on the way. That would not end well for them. Once we’re outside, I keep walking, and Njáll makes a disgruntled sound but keeps pace.