Quinn waves me off and keeps walking down the street. I watch until he goes around the corner and out of my sight. My blessing sloshes in my chest, like wine overflowing from a goblet. I rub the spot, frowning at the mild ache.
It is a good reminder. I should return and rest more because if we do get a lead on those twins, I do not want to put myself—or anyone else—in danger. I groan and get to my feet. Time to head back then.
When I arrive back at the Wild Hunt’s London base, I’m surprised to find Grant still awake and sitting on the sofa in the living room. Naturally, the windows are all covered, but he should not be awake at all.
My understanding is that the pull of the sun is what has vampires snoozing the day away. Younger vampires—fledglings, which Grant is, or at leastshould be—sometimes fall asleep where they stand in the first few years because they are that sensitive to it.
But Grant appears… unconcerned. He has another old book in his hands and frowns at whatever he’s reading, not noticing me at all.
That is the more concerning part of this picture. He should always be aware of his surroundings, whether he is in the base or not. What if someone else had come in?
“What are you doing awake?”
Grant doesn’t look up. “Was gonna ask you what you’re doing lurking in the doorway like that.” He turns a page. “You’re making the place look untidy.”
I sigh and drop onto the sofa next to him. “Where’s Vlad?”
“Bed.”
“Shouldn’t you be there, too?”
“What, in Vlad’s bed?”
“In yourown.” I debate asking about that—about what, precisely, is between Vlad and Grant. Vlad insists there’s nothing but won’t explain why he turned him. At first, I thought that was because I’m not a vampire and he didn’t expect me to understand. But then I heard Jeremiah ask too, and Vlad didn’t tell him any different.
But there’s no point. Not tonight.
“Not tired,” Grant says with a shrug. He snaps his book closed and looks over at me. “Where’ve you been?”
“Nosy.”
He grins, but it’s too sharp. “Really. You didn’t go out looking for them alone, did you?”
“No,” I reply. “I wouldn’t do that.”
“So you…?”
“I went to meet someone. It’s all okay. All safe.”
Grant doesn’t look as though he quite believes me, though he should. Quinn’s no threat to me; even if he wanted to be, he couldn’t.
“Things are going to get worse, aren’t they?”
“What do you mean?”
Grant pulls his knees up under his chin. He and Maurice were probably a similar age when they were turned, but Maurice carries the confidence of hundreds of years, and his magic, besides. Here and now, Grant looksyoung, painfully so. I don’twant him to be burdened with all that the Hunt is, but how can he escape it?
WhydidVlad turn him? He’s not known for acting upon whims, and I cannot understand why he would calculate this.
“The fae. All of it. It’s getting worse.”
“We’ve not… The twins escaped, but we’ll get them. We’ll find out where they are and send them back through the veil.”
“Like with Meilyr?”
“Yes. Well, kind of.” The Huntsman took Meilyr personally. Whether he’ll do the same with the twins remains to be seen. “But either way, you’ll be safe.”
“It’s not about that.”
