The street went away, daylight dimming to the otherworldly gray fog found in the veil. He could see the shadowed outline of walls and rooms Fatima passed through, the foundation of the home lit up by wards and spells that had been imbued with magic again and again over the years. She passed through them like they were nothing, a spirit not bound by mortal defenses.
Beyond the magic, he could sense through her the jagged, metaphysical tears in the edge of the veil that was evidence ofsomethinghaving crossed over. He couldn’t tell what, or if it was even similar to the poltergeist from last night, because his attention was needed back in his own body. The new person was talking like she knew him, or he was supposed to know her by the way she slipped her arm through his with a faked familiarity he had to keep from stiffening against.
Spencer blinked his vision back to normal, squinting at the displeasure bordering on disgust that had settled on the hunter’s face. When Spencer turned his head to look at the person beside him, he found himself face-to-face with the blonde woman from Black Waters. Her hair was twisted up in deference to the wind, and her sweater’s collar was a boat neck style to better show off the bite mark scars around her neck.
She smiled blandly at the hunter, giving off no sense of fear. Considering her assumed position in the Seattle Night Court, Spencer figured she had little to fear in a situation like this. Harming her meant you’d be on the receiving end of some vicious retaliation. Vampires had favored human servants for a reason, and those who reached that vaunted level of trust had a lot to gain and even more to lose.
“You traitors know to keep your distance,” the hunter snarled.
“He’s new,” the woman said coolly.
“Then teach him to stay the fuck off our property.”
“I’ll be sure to go over the territory borders with him again.”
She tugged firmly on Spencer’s arm, and he let himself be led away from the Cascade Coven’s home, Fatima still skulking about the place. He gave a mental tug on their connection, urging her to return to him as he stayed in lockstep with the woman.
“If we’re supposed to know each other, you might want to give me your name,” Spencer muttered.
She pulled him off the sidewalk between two cars, crossing the street and heading to the other side. Spencer didn’t see anyone in the nearby cars, but there was a middle-aged metalhead standing on the porch of a two-story, grandly built house in front of them, watching them approach. The curtains over the windows were all drawn, and the wards wrapped around the place left Spencer’s skin itching.
“You may call me Alyona,” she said. “And you are trouble.”
“Never.” Alyona dug her fingers into his arm and dragged him up the walkway. “Does Takoma make it a habit to buy up property right next to his adversaries?”
“That’s not your business.”
Spencer glanced over his shoulder at the way they’d come, seeing the hunter still standing at the gate, watching them. He wondered how long the hunter would stay there and if the Cascade Coven had people watching Takoma’s property on a twenty-four-hour basis.
“You know that guy’s name?”
“Bradley Laurier. He’s head of Caitlin’s personal security. She’ll be notified immediately of your attempt to get on their property.”
“I didn’t set foot on it.” Fatima had, but no one needed to know that just yet.
“Inside,” the older man grunted. His long hair hung loose around his bearded face, blue-eyed gaze steady and unimpressed. A quick slip of Spencer’s sight to look at his soul proved he was a warlock. His neck showed no bite marks, which wasn’t unusual. Magic users mostly tasted terrible to vampires. Something about the blood magic that sustained them and the kind that flowed through a magic user’s soul not mixing well. It didn’t stop vampires from feeding off them as a kind of last resort though.
Spencer dug in his heels. “Uh, no. I’m perfectly fine out here.”
“The house is warded for silence. You can take hospitality, or are you too good for that when it comes from the likes of us?”
“Hey, you do you, man. I’m not here to judge anyone.”
Alyona made an annoyedtsking sound with her tongue. “No, you are here to draw attention we do not want during the day.”
Spencer hadn’t intended to put a target on the back of Takoma’s people. He didn’t know where Takoma’s Night Court slept during the day, but he knew it wasn’t here. Alyona would know how to get in touch with Takoma tonight though, so he stopped fighting her pull and went inside, taking hospitality like the polite guest he was. The threshold settled once he did, and he took a moment to look around.
The home screamed money, but it also had a sort of lived-in look that gave it a warm touch. Granted, he only saw the living room past the foyer, but it was cozy in the way that had less to do with an interior designer than someone’s own personal tastes. The record player setup was modern, even if the records themselves on the bookcase below were old-looking. The furniture was mismatched but appeared comfortable.
“They’ll keep watch until you leave and then most likely follow you,” the warlock said.
“That’s expected. And you are?” Spencer asked.
The warlock leveled him a flat look. “Not your concern.”
He walked off, leaving Spencer and Alyona alone in the living room. She crossed her arms over her chest, eyeing him. “Why did you come here?”
Spencer looked around at the living room. “Here?”
