“Careful.” Claude gestured to the cut on Shepherd’s hand. “We can’t heal or ease our pain. Tonight we are as helpless as kittens. This scoundrel deserves our wrath, but that’ll never happen if we’re impulsive.” Claude wiped his hand across the glove box. “And be gentle with my lady. She doesn’t deserve your abuse.”
Shepherd opened his door and stepped onto the dead grass. “Your lady is too damn small. You need to start seeing other women with bigger seats.”
Claude rounded to the front of the car and winked. “I like my females in all shapes and sizes. I’m a hair short of six foot seven. If there’s one thing this body can handle, it’s a lot of woman.”
“Then maybe you should trade this for a minivan.” Shepherd cracked his knuckles, stalling for a few seconds while he came up with a plan. “I say we go through the back.”
Claude bent down and grabbed a handful of dead grass. When he let go of the grass, the wind carried it. “See that? It’s blowing from the north. There’s no possible way we can sneak up on them from the back—the wind will carry every sound we make. Every rustle in the grass, every breath, every twig snapping. And the moon will reveal us. He may not let us near the property, but our best bet is from the front. Let’s not make this appear as an attack.”
“You want me to ring the fucking bell while we’re at it?”
Claude wiped off the grass stuck to his hands. “Maybe we should. He’s expecting those at the party to join his army, so why not walk up to the door? It’ll give us a chance to take our time, look around, and see how many guards he placed outside.”
“Sounds like a death wish.”
“If he wanted you dead, he would have blasted you with more energy than he did. Perhaps he would be willing to strike a bargain.”
“You heard what he said about bribes.”
“Sometimes what a man says and what he means aren’t always the same. You’re not bargaining for your life; you’re bargaining for your son.”
Shepherd glowered and felt his blood pressure rising. “He’s stolen every damn thing we’ve got. Our home, our powers, our lives, my kid… everything!” Fists clenched, he stalked down the road.
Claude jerked him back. “Tread on the grass for now. It’ll draw less attention if they think it’s deer. My guess is most of them are inside. Let’s gather as much information as we can for Viktor.”
Shepherd reluctantly moved off the asphalt. His brain knew it was the right thing to do, but his heart wasn’t on board with the plan.
“We must keep our wits about us. Hunter is your son, so I’ll let you decide how to proceed once we get there. We must do everything we can to ensure his safety, even if that means doing nothing.”
“Where the hell’s your shirt?” Shepherd asked, noticing Claude’s bare chest when the wind blew his suit jacket open.
“I met a lovely female who wanted to give me a massage.”
“You’re fucking kidding me. A massage is code for something else, right?”
“She works with the Mageri, but back in her time, she used to be a highly trained masseuse.”
“I thinkthatwas code for something else.”
“All the same, she had an angel’s touch. I’m only glad we never got as far as my pants.”
As they nearedthe iron gate, Shepherd debated on whether they should press the Call button. Would these clowns even hear it? Would they know how to open the gate? When they reached the front, he slowed down and tried to imagine what had happened. The call box was still intact, as was the stone archway overhead. But someone had broken off one gate by the hinges and tossed it aside into the grass.
Halfway up the driveway, Shepherd slowly raised both hands. Claude mirrored his actions, neither saying a word. He jerked his head toward the garage, giving Claude a look. They could use an extra car, but what were the odds that Sparrow would let them take one?
Slim to none.
Sparrow’s black car was parked on the left side of the circular driveway in front of the house. There were five other cars parked off in the grass. Shepherd glimpsed a figure moving across the third-floor balcony. Then another slinked through the darkness, shadow walking as if Shepherd couldn’t see the bastard.
“Tell Sparrow he has company. I need to speak with him.”
One of those creepy bastards floated right up to him, nose to nose.
“Unless you have an escort,” the Scottish Vampire began, “you’re not welcome.”
“Horseshit. Sparrow invited everyone at the party to come see him.” Shepherd held up his palm, showing the man the hourglass. “This is my invitation.”
The Vampire flicked a glance between Shepherd’s hand and then back to his eyes. “What is your purpose? To swear fealty to the one true master?”
