“I did not cheat. I’m a better driver.”
“You cut me off four times. I had to dodge a police chase on the way back.” He saw Mormo, paused, and turned on his heel. “I need to talk to Kaia.”
Orion disappeared down the hall toward his bedroom.
“She’s at work,” Kraft said loudly, to which Orion replied, “Not on a Saturday night. Nice try.”
Kraft smothered a sigh, now having to deal with Mormo on his own. “Magician.”
“Nachzehrer.” Mormo studied him.
Kraft studied him right back. The guy wasn’t human, at least, not all human, but none of them could figure out what he was. At times he had rounded ears, then pointed ears, and Rolf had wondered if Mormo might be part fae. But he worked for their goddess, her beloved servant, so Khent thought Mormo might be a demigod, which would account for his vast magic.
It took a very powerful creature to corral vampires. Even with Hecate’s blessing, Mormo would have to have his own juice to keep them in line, which he did, even after acceding his status as patriarch to their clan’s strigoi leader. Stepping down turned Mormo into a kind of magic counsel in support of the clan. Yet he still liked handing out orders.
Mormo had a tall frame but was more slender than muscular. He usually moved around the house in a mage’s robe, though today he wore jeans and a sweater, looking more human. He might be able to pass as one with his long white hair, except he didn’t look old or young, rather he seemed ageless. But those dark red eyes were a sure giveaway that Mormo was anything but human.
“Are you done staring?”
“Are you?” Kraft snapped, annoyed and not sure why.
“So?”
“So what?”
Mormo pinched the bridge of his nose. “I swear. It’s like talking to a wall.”
Kraft wondered how much trouble he’d get into if he put the magician’s facethrougha wall, caught Mormo’s glare, and thought the better of it.
“The artifact, Kraft,” Mormo said slowly. “Where is it?”
“Oh.” Kraft coughed. “Right. Well, I tracked down our missing lycan. But he doesn’t know where it is. He was looking for it when we found him. Apparently, his pack had it, but then someone stole it from them, so the Crimson Claw want it back. But the good news is we’ll have help. She’s coming tomorrow night.”
“This ‘she’ wouldn’t happen to have gray fur and bright blue eyes, would she? A berserker wolf, the same berserker wolf who absconded with our prisoner a few weeks ago?”
Kraft had stopped questioning how Mormo knew even half of what he did. “The same one.” Though Riley’s fur was more black speckled with ash, calling it gray too mundane for something so glorious. He rubbed his hands together, excited about seeing her again, just as Khent passed them to enter the open kitchen.
“What’s this about a berserker and our prisoner?” the reaper asked.
“Kraft has invited the lycan, who stole our prisoner, to join him in his hunt for the artifact.”
“Is that so? Because she actually belongs to me.” Tall, lean, and stately, Khent could easily have passed for one of the Egyptian gods ancient humans had once labeled him. Unfortunately, the conceited reaper took his past too seriously.
Khent thought he could boss everyone around since he had the power to command the dead and had been alive for nearly six hundred years.
Kraft didn’t mind his other kin, mostly because he knew where he stood with them. But Khent bothered him, partly because he could raise the dead—which honestly, was nasty and yes, intimidating. Also partly because Khent never seemed to be wrong, which Kraft found beyond annoying.
“She’s mine,” Kraft growled back. “I found her. Her blood belongs to me.”
“Now hold on,” Mormo cut in. “She’s got a purpose to fulfill and—”
“She stolemyprisoner. She owesmerecompense,” Khent said calmly as he downed a goblet of blood. “Besides, I outrank you.”
“Fuck your rank. She’s a direwolf. That makes her mine until I’m done with her.” Kraft rarely wanted prey to the point of fighting for it, but the berserker was different. He felt possessive, raw, and more aggressive than usual.Must have to do with my wolf aspect.
Khent turned to Mormo and gave an insincere smile. “Just let me know when she arrives, Mormo.I’llhandle her.” Then he turned and walked out, ignoring Kraft completely.
Rolf, their blond-haired vampire and an oddball with access to a lot of magic and a poor sense of humor, walked past Khent to join Kraft and Mormo in the kitchen. “What’s got the Son of Osiris’s panties in a twist?”
