It’s not my business.He’snot my business.
I have to tell Vlad, though; I know that. Quinn isn’t the only wolf who was in there, and I think I spotted a couple of vampires, too.
We walk a fair distance from the pub—Mischief & Mayhem, and what kind of a fucking name is that—before Vlad hails a taxi. He doesn’t speak the entire way. I don’t try to read his silence. There’s no point. When Vlad doesn’t want to reveal what he’s thinking, he simply keeps it to himself.
Maurice is waiting at the base when we return. He’s pacing the living room, where Grant is sitting in his usual spot on the sofa, head tipped back to lean against the armrest. He doesn’t jump to his feet when Vlad and I enter the room, but his eyes linger on the almost fully healed mark on Vlad’s face, some fire lighting in them.
“Well, I don’t see two high fae here with you,” Maurice says.
“Fuck off,” I mutter. He can be a pain to deal with at the best of times, and that’s no better now that he’s around more often. Notthat I want him to leave. I like having the rest of the Hunt close. Feels less like we’re all out on our own.
“What happened?” Grant asks. He looks me over too but with far less intensity, which is fair. I’m not his sire, and besides,I’mnot injured. Not a scratch.
“They’re twins,” Vlad says, and Maurice swears. He stops pacing when Vlad sits at the other end of the sofa; Grant tucks his legs underneath himself but leans towards Vlad all the same. I don’t think he even realises that he’s doing it. “They’re running fights in their pub. Cage fights.”
Maurice frowns. “Why?”
“Who knows,” I say. “But it’s not just fae against fae. There were wolves there, too. And vampires.”
Vlad looks at me. He knows Quinn was there, obviously, but doesn’t know I found him in the alley. I could have stopped him if I’d wanted to. He’s a strong wolf, but he doesn’t have magic.
“Vampires? Which vampires?”
“We didn’t stop and get their names. I don’t know. Might just be vamps passing through.”
Maurice shakes his head. “They’ll still have to be known to the clan.”
“We did not discover anyone’s identity,” Vlad says. “We did not truly intend to engage with the twins at all. They spotted us, despite the fact that we hid our blessings.”
His dark eyes slide to me again and my skin prickles with shame. It’s my fault. My blessing—ever mercurial—slid out of my control.
It happened when Quinn got that troll on the ground. I was too caught up in it. My blessing flared, and the fae noticed.
Now they know that we know where they are.
“I don’t know if they’ll move operations,” I say, thankful when Vlad doesn’t bother to explain how the twins discovered us. No doubt Maurice knows anyway; he’s got the best control of all ofus, witch as he once was. “They’ve got a good spot and powerful defences. Most likely they’ll just be on the lookout for us.”
“And if they do move?” Maurice asks. “How will you find them?”
I think of Quinn again. The way sweat made his dark blond hair curl at his temples brought a healthy flush to his cheeks. In the cage and out of it, he looked nothing like the wolf I saw in the pack house a few weeks ago. That wolf had no fire inside him. He was barely more than a ghost.
Even scared as he was in the alley—and Iknowhe was scared—he had enough wherewithal to get away.
I just fear the mess he may have wandered into without realising it. There is no chance his pack knows what he is doing. They are fiercely protective of him; we all saw that.
“We will have to find someone who was there and have them tell us,” Vlad says, resolutely not looking at me. Grant is. His eyes drift to some spot above my head and narrow.
“Should I look into the vampires, then?” Maurice asks. “If you describe them, I can ask Njáll and his chieftains. If their crai asks for help, they’ll have to do it.”
“Will they want to?” Grant asks, sufficiently distracted.
Maurice shrugs. “Wanting doesn’t matter. They all heard about what happened with Augustine. They’re not going out of their way to get on his bad side.”
He makes it sound as though Njáll killed the troublesome vampire himself. Grant pales, body shuddering slightly. No. The Huntsman did that, while Grant was holding him still. Maurice’s expression softens as he realises, but he doesn’t apologise.
“Tell your crai,” Vlad says, a sharp edge to his voice. That affects Maurice less than Grant’s expression, I’ll wager, but he doesn’t address either. “We would be well-served to get their view of the place even if they cannot help us get the twins.”
“I’ll go now. I assume you two aren’t planning any other excursions tonight?”
