Page 4

Maurice

A sher is here. I’ve not crossed paths with him in a century, probably, and one look at his face is enough to tell me why.

He’s furious.

Can any of them tell? Or am I the only one to notice the twitch in his jaw, the way he is subtly shifting his weight so he can spring into action to protect his charge?

He’s with the wolf, of course. A vampire stands close by—the wolf’s mate—looking mostly amused by the entire situation.

The new crai just gapes at me. I should probably tell him to stop. It’s not terribly authoritative of him.

“I—You—”

I shake my head and glare around at the crowd. “Don’t you all have a party to be enjoying?”

Faint titters turn into giggles, but being blunt does the job. Oh, I have no doubt they’re all still listening, all desperate to find out who I am and why I’m here, but at least they look like they’re enjoying themselves.

“I’m Maurice,” I say again. “You’re Njáll?”

Someone help me, but if he’s going to be this useless the entire time, I might just have to face the Huntsman’s wrath. Thankfully, his name seems to bring the new crai back to himself; he blinks narrowed blue eyes and nods once.

“Njáll Vilulfson.” He sticks out his hand.

I shake it. He’s not pretty—no one could pretend that. He’s far too rough-looking, something wild lurking in the back of his eyes.

If I knew no better, I might take him for a wolf.

“You won’t be staying,” he says next, and I smile despite myself.

“That’s not up to you.”

He lets go of my hand, adjusting his jacket slightly. He’s not used to wearing it, or the shirt that’s buttoned up to his throat. “You asked if I was crai.”

“I did.”

“Then you understand that I’m in charge of all of this?”

Ooh. That shouldn’t have been a question, and when his eyes meet mine, he knows it. The faintest hint of colour creeps into his cheeks.

“I understand that our beliefs on that matter may differ,” I say, and my smile is sly. “But they are, also, irrelevant. The Huntsman has tasked me with your protection, and I serve the Hunt.”

“You do?”

I don’t deign to answer. His chieftains have stepped back to give us the illusion of privacy—they know better than to consider me a threat, then—but a mage further down is watching me with unabashed curiosity. Suspicion, too.

I turn my attention from him and back to the crai. Njáll. “We might be better discussing this later,” I say.

“Fine.” The word comes out in a tone just this side of petulant. I suddenly sharply miss the feel of a kelpie trying to drag me to my death.

Being trapped at the bottom of that lake for a few hours wouldn’t have been better than this.

If I tell myself that enough, I might believe it.

I nod once, then turn my back on Njáll, making my way through the gathered crowds. No doubt people will flock to him in my absence, desperate for more information. For me, they step aside, only daring to eye me warily.

All except Asher and his charges. The wolf grins as I near but turns his attention to his mate instead of engaging me in conversation. Good. I do not wish to know these people. I do not wish to be in this city.

“I’m surprised he got you down here at all,” Asher says by way of greeting. He is standing back against the wall but not leaning on it. No, never that. He would never risk looking unprofessional.

As if we are professional .

“You know how persuasive he can be,” I say, and I do lean against the wall, resting my shoulders against wallpaper I am certain is old and expensive. Asher huffs. “He seems convinced something else is going on.”

“You don’t think so?”

I think about the kelpie and concede with a dip of my head. “I won’t be able to investigate if I’m following him around all night. My time is limited as it is.”

Asher nods. He is not a vampire, and I am not certain what he was before the Huntsman blessed him, but I do not believe he was human. I have never asked, and it is information he has never offered.

Perhaps a hunter. He spent enough time with Moreau that it seems most likely.

“When you can, go see Vlad,” he says, surprising me. “It’s been a while since he heard from you.”

“It’s been a while since I heard from him.”

“ Maurice .” Asher frowns. “He can help you investigate. If needs be, I’m sure he can keep an eye on Njáll for a night or two, without…”

Asher trails off, and I look at him in surprise. Has so much changed? He would never have even considered modifying our orders a few decades ago.

He shakes his head at my expression. “You’ve been gone a long time. You missed everything that happened last year.”

“Apparently so.”

“Just go see him.”

“I will.” I planned to anyway, but I cannot deny that Asher’s insistence makes me even more impatient about it. Not that I am one to follow his requests; only, he asks so rarely. “Where are Rook and Saide? I thought their place was by the crai’s side.”

Asher glances around us before he speaks. Only his charges are close, but then we are in a room full of supernatural creatures. Many could overhear.

“No one’s seen them since last December,” he says in a voice pitched only for my ears. “The clan was attacked. They took the body of one of the donors and left. That’s it.”

I frown, thinking. “The Huntsman…”

“I don’t think he can find them.”

Our eyes meet, and the enormity of that statement is not lost on me. He can always find us. Always .

But Rook and Saide are perhaps the only two of us who might thrive without his blessing. They’re high fae, just like him.

Or they were.

“The donor?” I ask.

The wolf’s mate turns his head slightly, in a way that tells me he’s listening. His shoulders tighten. Asher follows my gaze and nods.

Right. Dead, then. And somehow known to this vampire—the ex-crai, I think—or particularly close to him.

I sigh and settle in more firmly against the wall.

Across the room, Njáll keeps darting looks at me as though he is hoping I will up and leave.

He is, as I suspected he would be, surrounded by vampires and hunters and wolves, and if he looks a little overwhelmed by the attention, then why is that my concern?

I am his bodyguard, and none are a physical threat.

His emotional safety is his own responsibility. It certainly cannot be mine.