“That is not your concern,” I reply. Already, his magic is shifting, reacting to the confusing situation he has found himself in. We have prepared for this—Grant helped us to set wards that should hold even all the magic Eirian gave Harold earlier. “We are looking for your boss. Jakob.”
“My boss?” Harold’s eyes narrow when he looks at me. There was not a flicker of recognition when he took Asher in, who is leaning over by the doorway. “You. I remember you. You were with that little bi—”
My hand lashes out before I can think the action through. His head snaps back, pain juddering through my knuckles and up my arm.
Asher huffs. I hear movement in the other room, but Grant restrains himself. He at least does not come barging in. I try to send a reassuring feeling down our bond. I am not certain it quite works that way, but I can at least try.
“Be polite, or this will be far more unpleasant for you.”
Harold spits out blood and glares at me. I sigh. We will have to thoroughly clean before we leave.
“This is how you talk to people, huh? Fucker.”
“You were being rude,” Asher drawls. He corrals his blessing, giving his eyes a little silver flash. Harold pales, swallowing hard. Ah. He knows of wolves, then, and does not understand the truth of fae magic. Not thatthatis unexpected, but it is good to know.
“Where will we find Jakob?”
“How the fuck should I know?”
“You are his bodyguard.”
Harold scoffs. “Please. That man is all about image. He wanted tolookimportant. Said it helped with the boys.”
“Boys?”
“The young vampires he likes. I mean, they’re adults, but they’re fucking young. He’s older than me. More powerful.”
“Where did you get that magic?” Asher asks, and Harold’s eyes cut to him.
“Why don’t you tell me? Seems like you two know a lot more than you’re pretending.”
I lean back against the kitchen counter and cross my legs at the ankles. Asher looks at me, raises his eyebrows.
I have never considered our dynamic before, but he is the only other member of the Hunt I would interact so easily with in an interrogation like this. Maurice is all bluster, and why not—his magic speaks for him, and he would surely have answers by now. Jeremiah is quiet, Paxton friendly up until the moment he is not, and they work perfectly well together, too.
As it is, we have a decision to make regarding how many of our cards we should show. Harold knows that I am Grant’s sire. He knows that Grant is powerful.
He must imagine I am even more so, and with little understanding of the magic Eirian has given him, he either believes he has an ace up his sleeve or that he needs to bluffhis way out of this situation. Strange that neither way involves telling us what we want immediately, but perhaps he believes that holding out gives him some edge.
I give Asher a faint shrug in answer, and the corners of his eyes tighten as though he has swallowed a smile. Good. We are on the same page, at least.
“Eirian gave it to you,” I say, and Harold smirks but doesn’t answer. “What interests me is whether or not you wanted it. Whether or not Jakob betrayed you in the process.”
His jaw tightens, gaze never dropping as he seeks to hold my eyes. Angry then. Jakob has offered up these young vampires he wants to enjoy so easily, and from what Harold has already said, he is not even a friend.
“Did she give you magic first, or the bartender?” Asher asks.
Harold jerks in the chair. Asher smiles when Harold looks his way.
“Jakob handed you over, didn’t he?” I say. “I imagine it was painful. All that power. You cannot even truly use it, can you?”
“I can.” A growl underpins Jakob’s words.
“Oh, yes?”
“I used it when you attacked me.”
“And yet you are here. You did not escape.” I tip my head to one side. “But you escaped Eirian. She would want to see how you endured the sun. Did you get away by giving up your friend?”
