“No interfering with humans,” the fae shoots back.
Maurice growls, and the first fae is gone when I look down. The second realises he’s alone and raises his hands in surrender.
“I’m sorry!” he says. “I-I mean it, okay? We were just looking for some fun.”
“Not with him you’re not,” Maurice says, and the almost dismissive way his eyes slide over me makes heat slide down my spine. “Now fuck off before I change my mind and toss you back through the veil myself.”
The fae pales at that—it must be a great threat—and from one blink to the next, he’s gone, too.
Leaving me with Maurice.
He stares at me for a long time, and only when I go to move, pushing off from the wall behind me, does he speak.
“What thefuckdo you think you’re doing here?”
Chapter Seven
Maurice
Idon’tpushtoohardwhen 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 reallyshoulddig 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?”
