Njáll blinks at me as though trying to catch up, but by the time he says my name, I am already on my feet. I stride purposefully over to the spot where I heard the sound, but there is no one—nothing—there.
I frown, reaching out with my magic. It takes a moment to flicker to life, and I dare not drag too much from the environment surrounding me, as I would not like to leave a trail the Huntsman would more easily find.
My lip curls back when the sensation reaches me.Fae.I look back at Njáll. He watches me from the bench, but then slumps back as though he cannot stand. He will be fine for a moment—and a moment is all it will take.
I follow the shining trail of fae magic away from Njáll, and only once he is out of my eyeline does it become clearer. I slide my knife from my sleeve and grit my teeth. Why would there be fae here? They should know to stay well enough away from the crai, and if it is the two little gancanagh from the other night, well, they will learn it is better not to interfere with the Hunt at all.
I find no gancanagh. Instead, a woman, a selkie by the look of her, and that has me frowning because she is further inland than I would imagine she likes.
“Hunter,” she says and blinks dark, liquid eyes. Her glamour is not robust, but I suppose that matters little. She has pretty round cheeks that dimple when she smiles easily, and a streak of white through her dark hair. “You are in our territory.”
“You are in vampire territory.”
“That is why you bring one with you?” Her gaze flickers past me, just once. “Are you both playing here?”
“You have no business here,” I snap. “What are you planning?”
“Me?” She titters, and her voice is entirely fake. The hairs at my nape stand on end. I need to get back to Njáll. Now. “Iwould not dare plan anything. We leave planning to the high fae.”
High fae… I don’t have time to parse her meaning. I hear the faintest sound—Njáll, it has to be him—and I don’t even bother digging my knife into her before I turn and sprint away. My duty comes first.
Another fae stands over Njáll when I reach him. He is tall and willowy, some kind of dryad, and reaches out with long fingers to tip Njáll’s face up. Njáll’s eyes are all-white, but I know he still sees—the dryad is showing him something or someone he wishes for.
I weigh my knife in my hand once before I throw it, and as ever, my aim is true. The dryad squawks in surprise when it lodges itself in his chest, then bares sharp teeth at me, his grip on Njáll’s face tightening.
The magic he is using on Njáll has not lessened. I growl and let my own fangs drop. Drinking from one of the fae is not ideal even for me, but I will do what I must to protect my charge.
I run at the dryad far faster than he is expecting; he lets out a surprised cry when our bodies collide, and he is finally forced away from Njáll. Njáll sputters, rocking back on the bench, butI can check on him in a moment. For now, I wrench my knife from the dryad’s chest, satisfied at the way blood pours from the wound, viscous and dark.
“You are not supposed to hunt us,” the dryad growls, every word twisted as he tries to fight me off. He has not been in this world long. Perhaps the selkie has not, either.
“You are not supposed to hunt,” I reply and drive my knife forward again. The spells flare this time, reaching for my magic as I force the iron blade under the dryad’s ribs.
He chokes on his own blood, and I tug my knife free before I take a few steps backwards. The ground is saturated with his blood; the scent of it fills my nose. Njáll stares at me from the bench. I do not know if he is back in his right mind or not.
The dryad dies slowly, and I do nothing to hasten things along. I do nothing to find out more about what just happened, either. I cannot. My mind is a whirlwind—were they waiting here for us, specifically? Did they hunt us? Was luck simply on their side?
And why? Why try to influence the crai? There are places for fae in this city. I have seen that for myself. Why would they need the clan to help them with that?
Once the dryad is dead, and I am certain that the selkie is long gone, I drop onto the bench next to Njáll. He leans against me, but his attentions are not as heavy as before. “That…” he begins. He stops and swallows hard.
“I should not have agreed for us to come here.”
Njáll scowls. “It was not—”
“It was not a terrible idea,” I say quickly. “In and of itself. But there is more danger in this city than I was anticipating.”
Njáll’s gaze is heavy on me for too long. “Did I… I didn’t mean…”
I shake my head. I don’t want to hear the rest of it.
“Did he show you something… bad?” I say, gesturing at the dryad’s corpse. I need to call Vlad. He will know how best todispose of it and might have an idea as to where we can find the selkie, too.
Njáll’s cheeks stain red. He meets my gaze when I look at him, but only for a second. “No,” he says, and then his eyes settle on the dryad’s corpse, too. He does not look overly concerned by what I have done, but then that is not all that surprising. He is an old vampire, and I am certain he has killed more than his fair share.
“I should tell someone about this,” he says, but I shake my head.
“I’ll deal with it.”
