Especially since I knew for a fact that he hated vampires. He’d suffered my presence because of a favor he owed my former captain.
“It is an honor for one so humble as I to be called on to serve our lord and lady.” The words were said in Jerry’s deep rumble, but the emotionless way they were recited and his closed-off expression said they might as well have come from someone else.
“Well, I never would have called you humble,” I told him.
Imposing. Intimidating. Gruff. I could come up with twenty words to describe Jerry, but humble wouldn’t have been among them.
“It is my honor to serve, as it is for every being with a drop of Fae blood,” he continued. He certainly didn’t look like it was an honor. No, he looked like he would chew through iron to express his displeasure about his situation.
“Did they give you a script to recite?” I hissed. All this babble would make so much more sense if that was the case.
He snorted, but didn’t respond.
“What’s this I hear that Hermes isn’t currently carrying messages?” I asked.
I’d written the sphinx’s declaration off as exaggeration, a fanciful turn designed to influence me to help. In fact, I never gave the claim an ounce of credibility, but standing here next to Jerry with him acting like a puppet, maybe I should have.
“Everything I have serves the lord and lady’s agenda,” Jerry said, turning his attention to me for the first time sinceI’d arrived. His words had a certain weight to them, the significance of which wasn’t lost on me.
My eyes widened, even as I fought to keep my reaction under control.
That, more than anythingI’d heard or seen tonight, unsettled me. I nodded to show my understanding of the message.
“Aileen, lass, you have a good heart, but listen to me this time. Steer clear of this,” he warned.“You’re digging on unsteady ground. Throttle your normal reckless impulses and keep your head down.”
Jerry didn’t wait for a response, plodding away, his broad shoulders cutting through the crowd with little effort on his part.
I watched him go as I took a sip of the fairy wine. The taste of it burst on my tongue, tantalizing and sweet, the endless possibility of spring coupled with the refreshing bite of the season’s first snowmelt.
A person could get addicted to this stuff if they let themselves.
I set the almost full glass of wine on a passing server’s tray as I considered what Jerry had told me. I was afraid it would be impossible to follow his advice.
Even if I wasn’t hopelessly entangled, I would have become invested onceI’d learned about Jerry’s presence and the likely fact that all his couriers had been enslaved to the High Fae’s service.
The thing I hated about loyalty was that it wasn’t so easily discarded. You couldn’t shrug it off like you could a pair of dirty clothes. It was there, an undercurrent to every action. Whether you wished it to be or not.
Jerry had received my loyalty when he gave me a job at a time when I was lost. He’d earned it when he kept me on despite the considerable trouble I brought to his door.
I didn’t know what he’d gotten himself caught up in, but I wasn’t going to sit back and watch him and the rest drown. Not if it was in my power to throw him a lifeline.
How, was the question.
CHAPTERELEVEN
During my perusal of the room, I slowly became aware there was almost as much attention being directed toward me by the vampires, as there was to the Fae.
I watched them, even as they watched me. I supposed it made sense, given my reputation. I was the rebellious baby vamp who’d made it possible for their master to claim his current lofty position, even as I rejected everything to do with their society.
I’d probably be curious too if I was in their position.
“How very understanding of you,” a voice murmured from a few feet away.
I didn’t jerk, having spied Aiden’s approach. I hoped he’d bypass me, but it seemed the younger vampires before me weren’t the only ones who were curious.
“How rude,” he said.
Aiden took a sip of his wine as he joined me. His hands weren’t the overly manicured ones of many in my generation. They were rough and calloused. It was obvious at one point in his life he’d worked in some type of manual labor. A trait he must have continued for his hands to be as rough as they were.
