Her quiet resignation cut like a knife to the heart. Riordan shared a quick look with Donal, who shook his head minutely. Riordan opted to bite his tongue and change the subject. “How’s the office been?”
Saoirse had always had a head for business, more so than he and Donal in some areas. It’s why she was CEO of their restaurant empire while they worked under her as vice presidents and directors, but the pub here was more a second home than the crown jewel of their business. “Good. I think the new executive assistant will work out.”
“We trust your judgment.”
Her smile this time was small and pleased. Riordan tweaked her ponytail, ignoring the falsely outraged squawk she let out. She shoved at him hard, nearly causing his chair to tip over. What could have devolved into a familiar sibling squabble was stopped by virtue of their food arriving. Riordan’s stomach growled loudly, but he refused to be embarrassed when Donal laughed at him.
They dug into their fish and chips, with Donal having ordered Saoirse her favorite shepherd’s pie. It was nice having a meal together, the rest of the crowd keeping their distance as they ate. Most of the patrons tonight were kin or clan, with a scattering of mundane humans and a witch who always came to read at the bar and eat an order of curry chips. She never seemed bothered by the noise, and Riordan knew she wasn’t using magic to silence the area around her.
He’d finished the last of his meal and most of his Guinness, contemplating a second pint, when the pub went quiet in a way that made all his hair stand on end. Donal went rigid in his seat, nostrils flaring to catch the scent of whoever had walked in. Riordan drew in a deep breath, ignoring the scent of the sea from their people and finding the one that put a faint hint of alarm on Donal’s face.
“What’s a werewolf doing out here?” Donal hissed.
Riordan’s eyes widened as he caught sight of who was making their way toward them. “Not just a werewolf. God pack.”
Clan Maguire had no territory issues with the Boston god pack for at least the last fifty years. So there should’ve been no reason why Casey Jenkins, alpha and co-leader of the Boston god pack, was taking up space in his clan’s pub. Casey was in his mid-thirties, fit and well-muscled in a way that came from fighting, not working out.
Riordan had ordered his clan to steer clear of all werecreature territory when there had been challenges goingon two years ago. The resulting shake-up in the god pack had seen Casey and his wife, Harper, on top of the whole mess. As far as werecreatures went, the pair could’ve been worse. They were fairer than their predecessor, less inclined to try to annex territory through any means necessary.
That didn’t mean they were kind—much like the fae that followed in his wake.
“Ah, there you are,” a voice said, the sound like an oil slick on Riordan’s skin, human or otherwise. “So glad we could finally meet in person. You’ve been ignoring my calls.”
Donal stood, turning to face the newcomers so his back wasn’t to them. Beside Riordan, Saoirse went absolutely still, but the sound of her heartbeat kicked up to a hummingbird pace. Riordan blindly reached for her hand, gripping it tight as their unwanted guests drew closer.
“Niall,” Riordan said evenly. “Our time isn’t up yet.”
Niall Noígíallach, Boston’s most underrated mobster, smiled wide enough to show his back teeth. Wavy blond hair fell to his shoulders around pointed ears, framing a beautiful face dominated by teal-colored eyes. His suit was subtle in its flashiness: designer, exquisitely made, but no hint of a brand name on any of his clothes or accessories. The thick gold and diamond rings on his hands were the obvious markers of wealth to mundane humans. To the supernatural community, it was his status as a Seelieduine sídhethat made everyone steer clear.
Selkie clans didn’t mingle with thedaoinesídheall that often. They might all be fae, but some fae thought they were better than all the rest, and selkies had never had enough clout to matter in the Seelie or Unseelie Courts.
Niall was one of those kinds of fae, the sort to always find a way to get exactly what he wanted, no matter the damage done. His territory was a carved-out corner in Beacon Hill and several floors in a skyscraper in the heart of Downtown Boston and hadbeen for the past three decades, ever since he’d slipped out of a hawthorn path in Back Bay Fens to make all their lives difficult. He wasn’t someone the kin would ever trust, and the clans had all kept their territory borders good and tight against Niall’s insidious encroachment.
But it hadn’t been enough.
“Clear the pub of everyone but clan,” Riordan said as he stood, letting go of Saoirse’s hand.
He didn’t need to raise his voice; every supernatural creature in the bar would have heard him. Those that didn’t have enhanced hearing would be notified to leave by staff. It took only a few minutes to send everyone off, their bartender and servers handing back credit cards from open tabs and voiding all the transactions to get everyone out faster. It was a minor loss, considering what had walked through the door.
Riordan watched Niall get comfortable at a different table, making it clear he expected Riordan and the others to come to him as if he were some king lording it over them. Casey stood at his back like a guard dog come to heel, which made Riordan’s skin prickle. No god pack alpha would ever be so docile, and Casey was known for being devoted to his wife and changing how things were done in the Boston god pack. That she wasn’t there with him was another red flag.
Standing behind them was another fae, one that left Riordan uneasy at her presence. She wore glamour he could sense but couldn’t see through, appearing as an old human woman with dyed dark green hair to his eyes. That much power was concerning, and Riordan wasn’t the only one who seemed put off by her presence. Donal and Saoirse were just as wary.
The older fae said nothing, and Niall didn’t seem subservient to her in any way. But neither did she appear in thrall the same way Casey was. She could be another one of Niall’s victims, but Riordan wasn’t so sure.
Her eyes looked too hungry to be trustworthy.
When the pub door locked behind the last patron, leaving only those selkies who were part of Clan Maguire inside, Riordan finally spoke. “What do you want?”
Niall raised a finger and wagged it at him as if he were a dog. “Ah ah ah, you aren’t in charge here.”
Riordan looked at the older fae. “Is she?”
Niall outright laughed. “No.”
For some reason, Riordan couldn’t tell if that was a lie or not. “This is our territory.”
“Not for much longer.” Niall’s gaze slid sideways to where Saoirse stood. “You’re looking particularly lovely tonight, Saoirse.”
