Either he’s the best actor in all of the realms and thisisa trap—like the Vulpi suspected—or whoever was following them was doing it because they wanted something from the Vulpi and not this guy.
How has he survived this long against a group of killers that slaughtered an entire bloodline in one night?
My gaze rakes over Hatus as we all silently settle in the room. I don’t begrudge him the help he’s getting from the Vulpi. Fuck knows, Eacon and my brothers saved my life. But if he wants to survive what’s breathing down his neck, he’s going to have to get smarter and more determined, and he’s going to need to do it right now.
Telson leans against the wall between Mayden and Myrka, who are occupying opposite corners like the Vulpi always do. They’re taught to find the most defensible point in any room and place themselves there. They look like Vulpi bookends around Telson, and I would smile at the odd picture if we weren’t about to question an informant and therefore needed to maintain appearances. Scorpius and Skull stride to the other side of the room opposite me, and I take up position next to a large window, the only other exit and entry point in the room aside from the door.
“You know who we are?” Skull asks Hatus, his tone bored and put out.
“Yes,” Hatus answers, his hands now shaking harder than a banner in the wind.
“And you know why we’re here?” Skull continues.
Hatus gulps. “To keep me safe from…from…them.”
Skull snorts the small puff of air, derisive and indignant. “Safeis between you and the Vulpi. If you give us every detail of whothemis exactly and what you saw at the Daeral manor on the night of their deaths, the Order of Scorpions won’t do anything to jeopardize the safety you were promised.”
Skull’s words are barbed with aristocratic nuance. It’s a trick he’s mastered to make those he converses with either feel unsettled and challenged or inferior and beholden. It also keeps others guessing as to who we are and what footholds we may have in the upper echelons of the realms. He’s good at these subtle manipulations, so good that I always findIwant to punch him whenever he slips into this hoity role on a hunt.
I watch Telson to see what she thinks of Skull’s new persona, but she’s watching Hatus like she expects him to pull a claymore from his ass and charge her at any moment. The challenge in her black eyes makes me hard, even though it’s not aimed at me. I brush away the images that flash in my mind of all the ways I fucked her and she fucked me earlier, and tell myself to pay attention to what’s going on before I fuck up and miss something important.
“Now, start at the very beginning. Be slow and thorough, and tell us what you saw. We don’t want conjecture. Keep your suspicions to yourself. Give us only whatyouwitnessed,” Skull instructs, and I can tell that he’s also questioning how helpful whatever Hatus saw is going to be for us.
Hatus nods solemnly and pulls in a deep shuddering breath. He looks at my brothers and then me, our skeletal visages reflected in the growing black of his eyes as his pupils expand with fear. Then he looks over at Telson and loses just a little of the rigid tension in his shoulders.
This time, I can’t fight the smile that curves at my lips. Hatus sees a softer option, one less intimidating to him than me, Scorpius, and Skull. He doesn’t know that Telson would cut his tongue from his mouth just as quickly as the rest of us would. It almost makes me want to see her do it, if for no other reason than to teach a lesson in underestimating any member of the Order of Scorpions.
“I…I was sleeping,” Hatus starts, his shaky hands reaching for the hem of his tunic.
He begins to absently wind it around his fingers as though the movement soothes him. Enay mentioned Hatus was a cobbler in his previous life, the one that died when he survived something he shouldn’t have. The movement must mimic how he works, probably helps him focus, but I watch his hands and body for any tells as I let the others focus on his tone and words.
“I had stopped to visit my brother Fet. He didn’t know I was coming, but he was excited to see me all the same. Fet mentioned that the house was just getting back from some travels and that things in the manor were a bit chaotic. He didn’t want to ask any of the staff if they’d make up a room for me, which was fine by me. Fet and I’d spent most of our youth in the barns sleeping with the beasts. It was no issue to cozy up to them again instead,” Hatus explains with a shrug.
He clears his throat, and his eyes twitch from Telson to Myrka and then back again, but I take note of the chagrin that seems to suddenly weigh down his back and fill his features.
“Fet nipped a bottle of wine and some victuals from the kitchens,” Hatus admits more quietly, as though he thinks we’re going to report the theft to Lord Daeral and get his brother sacked.
Being that they’re all dead and buried, his concern and embarrassment is wasted.
“We drank and ate and caught up with each other, and when it got late, I hunkered down in a stall and Fet went to his cottage that he shares with the stable boys and carriage staff just down the way. I…uh…I drank more than I usually do. The wine was good, much nicer than the likes me and Fet were used to. I must have slept through…”
Hatus wrings his tunic in his hands, his eyes closing with shame, as he takes a minute to collect himself.
“When I woke, it was to one of the house girls screaming. I don’t know if she was a maid or a cook or something else, but she was running from the servants entrance at the back. Running for her life and hollering with blood curdling fright. There were no other sounds. No birds. No insects. Not even the mounts snorted in fear. Just her shrieking, terrified, and sprinting away as though a ghoul were on her heels. And then I saw what was…”
Fear wafts off Hatus like heat from desert sand. His eyes snap open, and he stares at Telson, but his gaze is far away, locked in whatever horror is playing out in his mind. I’ve seen this look a thousand times, and it makes me stand a little straighter and actually believe Hatus might be useful for the first time since we walked in here.
“What?” Mayden prompts.
She leans forward, clearly invested in whatever Hatus is holding back, and I recall that the Vulpi want these answers as much as we do, because whoever it was had carved a fox in one of the bodies, which made it seem as though the Vulpi sanctioned this hunt. Something they were adamant they didn’t do.
“Ghosts,” Hatus exclaims, his voice barely above a whisper. “Ghosts were after her.”
His eyes never leave Telson’s, and I glance at Skull and Scorpius, wondering if they’re thinking this fae is as fucked in the head as I do right now.
“There was this small knot in the wood, and I could see the courtyard. I thought maybe the wine was poisoning my dream, turning it into a nightmare. They moved so fast. One minute, there was nothing, and then the next, the wraiths were just there.”
I look over at Skull and shake my head. All this fucking trouble, and the Vulpi brought us a loon. Skull’s answering look tells me he’s equally unimpressed. My vexed gaze flits to Mayden and Myrka, but they’re looking at Hatus as though they can will some semblance of sense into the bastard.
