Page 38

Deacon nods slowly. “And what did you do before all that? Before the treaty?”

I shrug. “Ask ten vampires and you’ll get ten different answers.

I’ve seen some small clans hold physical trials, either fighting hand-to-hand or with weapons.

Some have had something more like the Council, or like human courts.

Some have had the victim seek their own justice, but only to the degree that harm was issued upon them.

We’re not one people, Deacon. We never were. ”

“You’ve become it, here.”

“We have, and that’s why we have this route. We marry together the customs we can and try to keep up with the times. To a certain degree, at least.”

“Yeah, some of that wouldn’t work with wolves,” he says, but he seems more understanding than he did when he walked into the room. “I worry I’m going to have to allow this challenge, and that even if Augustine doesn’t kill Quinn, this will be the thing that breaks him anyway.”

“I’ll fight it,” I say, and Deacon looks at me in surprise. “The idea of the challenge, I mean, but also I can argue for a proxy if it should go ahead.”

Deacon frowns. “A wolf can fight a challenge for another, but it’s rare. Augustine is not old or injured. If he is capable of issuing a challenge, then he should be capable of fighting it.”

“But he is not a wolf. He is a vampire, one who is seen by the packs as a threat. If there are others in your pack who feel as defensive of Quinn as you and Kieran do, then there is every chance that his life is at risk by accepting the challenge, isn’t there?”

I stare hard at Deacon until he nods. “That won’t work if Quinn takes up the challenge, though. Then Augustine will have to fight.”

“Don’t let him.”

“It is a wolf’s right —”

“Don’t. Let. Him.” I enunciate each word clearly, never breaking eye contact with Deacon.

To my surprise, he breaks first, though I think that is more a conscious choice than any sign of submission.

“I’ll do what I can,” he says and scrubs a hand through his hair. “I’ll have to get Kieran to agree to it first.”

“He’s going to be angry for a while.”

Deacon chuckles. “Yeah, no kidding. That’s not even the half of it.”

“What do you mean?”

“You think Kieran’s angry? You haven’t seen Sam yet. I was worried he might take out half the city looking for the fae who broke his wards.”

“He shouldn’t,” I say, panic suddenly seizing my chest. “He should stay away from them.”

“I told him that. I don’t know that he cares to do as I tell him, but I imagine he’ll stick close to home for the next few days. He protects that pack as well as any wolf.”

Deacon gets to his feet, and I stand too, feeling suddenly unbalanced. I need to call Maurice. I should have done it already, and I have no doubt the Hunt will hear of what’s happened and know there are fae involved, but I want to be the one to let him know.

“Thank you for your help, crai.” Deacon extends a hand, which I shake. “I’m sorry for the way we came in here. Just because we don’t always see things the same way, that doesn’t make you an enemy, and I should have acted better.”

“Apology accepted, alpha.” I smile in the face of his small frown. “I could have done better myself, I am sure. Thank you for your grace as I get used to this role.”

Deacon snorts. “You’re doing just fine. You’re actually meeting with me, aren’t you?” His eyes sparkle, lips twitching as though he’s holding back a laugh. When I sigh, he sobers. “We’ll get through this, Njáll, and you’ll still be crai when it’s done.”

“I’m not betting on that.”

“I would.”

I see him out, and Kieran scowls but gives me a polite nod before he follows Deacon away. As soon as I’m sure they’ve left the building, I snatch up my phone and call Maurice.

Every call goes straight to voicemail. Either he’s gone back to the way he was before, with no phone at all, or he’s turned it off, and I don’t know which is worse.

I don’t know where to find the rest of the Hunt, either.

Spectra might know, but although she was forthcoming with information when Maurice was with me, I don’t know that she’ll tell me how to find the Hunt and I’m sure she’s closer with them than she claims. What if she tells the Huntsman I’ve been investigating?

I don’t want to risk Maurice’s position.

But Reijo… He has been helpful in the past, clearly, but has some distance from the Hunt. Still, he should know how to find them—Vlad told Maurice how to find him .

I’m just looking for the Hunt, I tell myself as I shut down my laptop and send a quick message to Afsaneh, letting her know I’ll be out of the clan house for the rest of the evening. I’m just going to find them and tell them what is going on so that they’re aware and can do their jobs.

If I tell myself that enough, I’ll probably believe it.

The Goodfellow is just as I remember it, though it appears more crowded than it did the night we met Reijo.

I don’t see him, either, though plenty of heads turn in my direction as I walk in the door. I don’t think there’s another vampire around.

No, I don’t think there’s anything but fae in here.

Keeping my expression even, I walk over to the bar and order a drink. The back of my neck prickles—I’m being weighed up by somebody, by multiple people, even. That’s fine. Maybe there’s another fae here who can help me find the Hunt.

Maybe there’s a fae here who knows something about the high fae.

I can’t draw the bartender into conversation—she glares when I try—so I pay for my drink and turn my back to the bar, eyeing the rest of the room as I sip my whiskey. There really is no sign of Reijo at all, and something dark gathers in the pit of my stomach.

Did he stop coming here because it’s where we found him, or did he really frequent this place much at all?

I scowl at the thought and throw back the rest of my drink before I flag down the bartender again. She’s the same fae who was working the last time we were here.

“Another?” she asks, and I shake my head.

“Where can I find Reijo?”

Her scowl only deepens. “No.”

“What? No, I need his help.”

She doesn’t believe that, clearly, even though it’s true.

“Try over there,” she says with a jerk of her chin.

I glance in that direction and spot a group of three fae sitting in the corner. All three have fur coats—they’re either wearing them or have slung them over the backs of their chairs.

Selkies.

“Thanks,” I say. Her eyes go wide.

When I go to move, she grabs my sleeve. “Do not pick up their coats,” she says, voice deadly serious.

“I wouldn’t.”

She lets go and I wind my way over to the group of selkies.

One, a woman, looks up when I approach. She’s wearing her coat, a sleek, dark brown with a white streak through it—it matches a streak in her hair.

The sight stirs a memory in me, but one that is unclear, and I do not have the time to chase.

“We’ve got a visitor,” she says to the other two, both of whom turn to look up at me, too.

I can’t tell the gender of either of them, pretty and lithe as they are, but I’m beginning to think that doesn’t matter when it comes to the fae. Their eyes are like hers and Reijo’s—big and dark and easy to get lost in.

“Hi,” I say, “I was just looking for a friend and I wondered if you might know where to find him?”

“Oh?” The woman pats a chair next to her. “Sit.”

I do, but I’m tense, and she can see it. Her smile widens.

“We’re not going to hurt you, little vampire.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” It is, but only a little. “I’m looking for a friend.”

The two androgynous fae titter. The woman rolls her eyes at them and waves them off. They don’t leave, but they turn their attention away.

“Who is it you’re looking for, doll?”

“Reijo.”

Something flickers through her eyes, almost too fast for me to catch.

“You know him?” I ask.

“Yes,” she says. “I heard he went to ground.”

“Why?”

“According to rumour, he was corned by a member of the Hunt and his pet vampire.” She raises an eyebrow at me. “Sound familiar?”

“We didn’t—” I shake my head. “We scared him, but we didn’t mean to. We weren’t going to hurt him.”

“And how would he know that?” She picks up the martini glass in front of her and drains the rest of her drink. “How would I?”

How am I supposed to convince her that I don’t want to hurt Reijo? I really don’t. I just think he’ll know how to contact Vlad.

“Please,” I say. “I don’t even need to see him. I just need his help with something.”

She shakes her head and gets to her feet. “I’m sorry.”

I watch her walk out of the pub, leaving me alone with the other two selkies, who now watch me curiously. There’s no doubt they heard the conversation, so they know what I want but don’t seem inclined to help, either.

Fuck.

I’m out of my chair and after her before I can really think it through. It feels suddenly urgent. The high fae is making moves, and I don’t want him to go after Maurice—if Maurice is even in London. Maybe he’s back in Scotland. That doesn’t mean he’s safe.

The selkie isn’t far away when I leave the pub. She’s standing on the corner, texting on her phone, and I make sure I’m loud in my approach.

She rolls her eyes when she sees me coming. “Really?”

“If you have his number, you could call him for me,” I say, aware that I sound desperate but not really caring. “You can listen in on the whole conversation. I really just need to know something.”

“What is it you need to know?”

I swallow. Should I trust her? I suppose it doesn’t matter. If she listens in on the conversation, then she’ll hear what I’m after.

“Where to find the Wild Hunt.”

She nods and sends her message, then slips her phone into the pocket of her fur coat. “You’ve got far too tangled up with them, haven’t you, crai?”

“What? I—”

I hear footsteps behind me far too late, and then the other two selkies are there on either side of me, taking hold of my arms. They’re stronger than I expected and hold me still as the woman comes closer.

“He wanted one of you,” she says, “so we figured the new crai would be easiest. And you are a na?ve little thing, aren’t you?”

“I—What—”

“Shh now,” she says, and I fight a yawn as a wave of drowsiness washes over me. The last thing I hear her say is, “You’ll find out all about it when you wake up.”