“A dead end,” Varu snarled.
“Oh?”
“Whatever killed those members of the Seattle Bloode wasn’t vampire. The upstart clan we expected to face was dead when we got there, and we ended up having to fight two covens who blamed us for the problem.”
Macy, their Bloode Witch, looked just as annoyed. “Can you believe those assholes wanted us to prove our innocence? I mean, you could smell the brimstone all over the place. But instead of blaming demons, it’ssoooomuch easier to blame vampires. What bigots.”
Duncan, her mate, put an arm around her and grinned. “Have I told you, luv, how sexy you are when you’re riled?”
Orion gave a tired laugh, but his grief over his pet—who had never really been his pet—was present. His mate wormed her way under his arm and hugged him.
Mormo sat the artifact they’d spent so much time after on the kitchen island. “This is what we recovered.”
Fara joined them. “Max is sleeping and looking better. He’ll recover fully, I’m sure.”
“Good. We might have need of lycan allies in the coming months,” Mormo said.
Instead of teasing or making a face to argue the point, Rolf nodded. “Oh, we will, I’m sure. The force behind the bazaar’s new ‘ownership’ wasn’t Sebastian Castle.”
“It wasn’t?” Khent frowned. “So who was it then?”
“Something for us to find out later,” Varu said. “After a nice little break.”
“I knew I liked you being in charge, mate,” Duncan said in that trendy little British accent his mate seemed to love.
Macy wiggled her brows at him then gave Khent the eye. “Isn’t my revenant hot?”
The others grinned. Khent refused to laugh, not wanting to encourage the sharp-tongued redhead. But Duncan could have done a lot worse. For a weak human, Macy had proven her worth many times over.
He rolled his eyes, amused to hear her mirth.
“Ahem.” Mormo cleared his throat, looking like a stern instructor at an academic parley. “This, my kin,” he said to annoy Varu, who glared at the magician—not kin, thank you very much— “is a treasure we are so fortunate to have.”
Before he could say anything more, the statue of a sitting wolf vibrated on the counter.
Everyone froze.
Mormo intoned, “Ah, Hirpus, we beseech thee to show your treasures.”
A howl from the hallway sounded, and Max trotted out in direwolf form. Rough and scarred yet large in presence, the dark brown and black wolf sneered at them as he heeded his goddess’s call.
Even Varu stepped aside to allow Max to come forward. He sat and bowed his head in reverence to the artifact.
“For one so loyal, a boon,” a snarly female voice echoed around them.
Khent watched in astonishment as the dirty and faded statue suddenly gleamed, its onyx-like color so deep it appeared made from a substance not of this realm. The eyes on the statue, which had been tiny and flat, suddenly glowed red.
Varu’s eyes narrowed. He cocked his head. “Two of you, eh? Twins. That’s hilarious.”
Next to him, his mate, a dusk elf with the ability to commune with power gems, gaped at the statue. “Oh my gosh. Therearetwo of them. And they’re whole stones, not fragments. Call them, Varu.”
He held out his hand, palm up, and they all watched as the eyes left the statue and floated to Varu’s palm. Both the size of dimes, the tiny gems packed a wallop.
Khent could feel their power beating at his chest, demanding he obey his master. Which would be Varujan of the Night Bloode, not a Son of Osiris.
He swallowed a sigh of disappointment, proof of his status sinking in. He had found new kin and would need to accept that. Eventually.
In the meantime, he watched as a red mist left the stones and floated over Max, then settled into his fur.
