By definition, spying implied a nefarious purpose. Whereas surveillance was done by governments and private investigators as a tool to gather information. Hence, my stakeout of theapothecary was a perfectly legal endeavor. If I’d been licensed and part of the mundane world, that is.
What I was doing now, on the other hand, following the hunter—that was closer to spying.
I was splitting hairs, I know.
Caroline wedged herself in the corner of the back seat, propping one foot on the console between the driver and passenger seat as she quirked an eyebrow at me. “I notice you still haven’t answered my first question.”
“Didn’t I? Must have slipped my mind.”
I kept my voice deliberately airy, trying not to give anything away. Caroline had always been protective. Since becoming a werewolf that part of her had kicked into overdrive. If I told her that the motorcyclist we were following was a hunter, she’d try to end the threat to her pack—aka me—before it began.
There’d be no chance to explain the hunter’s connection to my dad. That he was Dad’s nephew. Or that Dad had once been a hunter himself. That he was descended from a whole line of born hunters.
It was another secret on what was becoming a growing pile of them.
It seemed my life post transition to vampire-dom was built on a shifting foundation of lies and deceptions. It meant I was no stranger to keeping the people I loved in the dark. For their safety—and my own.
I pretended not to notice Caroline’s stare as she practically bored a hole in the side of my face.
“Who is he?” Caroline demanded.
“Just someone involved in a different case.”
Caroline studied me quietly, her intelligent gaze picking up far more than I wanted her to. She knew I was bullshitting her. I could see it in her face. The slight furrow of her forehead. Theway the skin around her blue eyes crinkled like it did when she was trying to work through a particularly troublesome problem.
Her blond hair was swept up into a high ponytail, and she was dressed entirely in black. She’d even worn combat boots.
Her softer edges had burned away since becoming a werewolf. Her frame leaner and covered with muscle. Her features sharper. More feral. With an edge of wildness that threatened to lure the unwary closer. Like a moth to the flame.
“You realize werewolves are as good as vampires when it comes to sniffing out lies,” Caroline informed me seriously.
“I’ve been a supernatural longer than you. Of course, I do.”
Unlike her, most of that time was spent as a courier to the supernatural world. I wouldn’t have survived if I didn’t know the capabilities of the spooks I suddenly found myself surrounded by. I was betting I knew almost as much about werewolves and their habits as her.
“Besides, what part of my statement was a lie?” I asked.
Not a single word.
I’ll say this for hanging around vampires—they’d taught me how to deceive without ever having to speak a word of falsehood. It was a skill I’d come to appreciate. Mostly because it had saved my life more than once.
“You’re keeping something from me, Lena,” Caroline said.
“Quite possibly, but I’m not the only one keeping secrets, now, am I?”
Caroline shut her mouth at the pointed look I sent her.
Yeah, that’s what I thought. It wasn’t so fun when the shoe was on the other foot. I’d known there was a reason she volunteered to accompany me on this stakeout despite it being a work night. Caroline had always been a workaholic. Becoming the assistant librarian of the supernatural library hadn’t changed that. If anything, it made her worse. All that knowledge, just waiting to be consumed. I was surprised she ever left the stacks.
For her to take time off; something was up.
I just wasn’t sure what. She also wasn’t talking.
The driver darted a fear filled look over his shoulder. “Um—”
I didn’t take my eyes off Caroline. “Eyes on the road.”
The driver’s shoulders crawled toward his ears but he faced forward again.
