Prologue
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“Well, if it isn’t Merrick.” Two men emerged from an alley, pausing outside a run-down building.
The second man turned to where the first had pointed. “What? Where? Why, so it is, so it is. And he doesn’t look happy to see us.”
“Not happy at all. Why isn’t he happy? I wonder,” the first man asked, and removed a toothpick from his mouth, grinning to expose teeth that were crooked and stained the color of mustard.
The second man grinned, as well. It was about as pleasant as when his compatriot did so. “Vampires have strange ways, Henri. They most definitely have strange ways. But we could ask him why he is so angry-looking. Would you like to do the honors, or should I?”
“I would, Jens, but if I recall correctly, the last time we had speaks with Merrick, he called us lowlifes.” Henri, the man with the toothpick, affixed a hurt expression to his unlovely face.
“Lowlifes! Shocking,” Jens said, shaking his head. “Shocking is what I say it is when an old friend like Merrick has that to say about us. It’s as if he didn’t know us at all, not at all.”
Merrick Simon halted in front of a rooming house located in an unsavory part of Prague long enough to give both men a considering look. “What did you call me here for that couldn’t be handled via text messages?”
“Now, don’t be hasty, Merrick, old friend,” Henri said smoothly, jabbing the less-than-pristine toothpick toward Merrick. “You’re the one who told us that secrecy is of the utmost importance.”
“That he did, that he certainly did,” Jens said, nodding his head, moving to a spot behind, which Merrick assumed gave Jens a false impression of security. “We’re just doing as you asked.”
“Giving you information you said you wanted,” Henri said quickly.
“And now you look angry at us for doing our jobs,” Jens added, leaning nonchalantly against a railing behind Merrick. “It’s sad, it is.”
“Get on with it,” Merrick said, fast losing his patience. “What is it you have to show me?”
“You said you wanted to know of any movements of that man. Rex, was it?” Henri asked.
“Victor,” Merrick said, well aware of Jens standing behind him. He wasn’t a fool—he trusted the men about as far as he could spit, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t use them if they really had information.
“That’s right, Victor.” Henri opened his eyes very wide. “It seems his right-hand man traveled to Prague two days ago, and hasn’t left.”
“Right-hand man?” Merrick frowned. It was the first he’d heard of his nemesis having a partner. “Who is that?”
“Don’t know his name,” Henri said from behind him, absently picking his teeth with his toothpick.
“We heard through the grapevine that he was doing some work for Rex.”
“Victor,” Jens corrected.
Merrick glanced at the house, unsure of whether to believe the two men. “Who passed along this information to you?”
Obligingly, Henri held out his mobile phone. “You can read the text yourself.”
Merrick read, his frown smoothing out when he saw the sender’s name. “That’s Nico’s informant. The one he has watching the airports.”
“And he told us, so we told you,” Henri said smoothly. “We figured if a man who works for the Four Horsemen says something, it must be true.”
“The right-hand man is inside,” Jens added, pulling out a small pocketknife and paring his nails. “Top floor. First on the right. We thought that was worth coming out to see.”
“It is indeed,” Merrick said, giving them a curt nod. Something felt off about the whole thing, but there was no denying the text Henri had shown.
Henri jerked his head toward the blue door. “You going in?”
“Yes.” Merrick shifted his weight so that he was better balanced, and gave Henri a look that appeared utterly unaware of anything around him.
“Alone?” Henri asked.
