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“I still dislike her,” Matilda said.
“She isn’t here because she won a personality contest.”
Matilda released a gentle sigh. “You’ve grown too soft, cariad. How did this happen?”
Addison poked her head back through the doorway. “Does this mean they’ll kill that stag you saw yesterday? And the wild boar?”
“Wild boar?” Matilda and I repeated in unison.
“Where did you see a wild boar?” I asked.
“When you and I went dumpster diving. It was rummaging through the overturned dumpster outside the pizza place.”
“And you didn’t think to mention it?”
“At first, I thought it was a chunky dog. It was only after we passed by that I realized it was a boar. By then, you were rambling about finding cushions to match your new sofa, and I forgot.” Addison shrugged. “What can I say? I’m easily distracted. I blame two minds in one puny human brain.”
Matilda rubbed the space between her eyebrows. “You may return to the conversation.”
With a triumphant smile, Addison practically skipped to the table and sat.
“Tell me what else you’ve seen,” Matilda demanded.
Addison tilted her head toward me. “Lorelei has a boyfriend.”
I kicked her under the table.
“You’re involved with the demon?” She narrowed her eyes. “How involved?”
“She hasn’t seen him since I’ve been here, but she smiles at the phone whenever he texts her. That’s how I know who it is.”
I kicked her again. Harder. The snitch didn’t even flinch.
“It’s a mistake to get close to him, cariad. It will only end in heartache.”
I squared my shoulders. “There are no mistakes, only lessons.”
She pinned me with a hard look. “And if it gets you killed? Where’s the lesson in that?”
“There are two people in danger of getting me killed at the moment, but Kane isn’t one of them.”
Her features softened. “Point taken.” Matilda seemed to reconsider Addison’s presence in light of the canary’s willingness to sing. “If you continue to seek refuge here, you should understand what’s coming.”
“I assume it’s bad,” Addison replied.
“Yes,” Matilda said, with a sigh of exasperation. “Do you know anything about the hunt?”
Addison didn’t react to Matilda’s withering stare. “No, but I suppose you’re about to tell me.”
“Bah. I won’t waste my breath on you.”
“Tell her,” I urged.
“They’re a group of hunters who gather for the shared purpose of pursuit. It’s a procession, a performance of both skill and artistry under a cold night sky.” Matilda’s right eye twitched. “At least it was, until Vortigern.”
“Cool name,” Addison said. “Who is he?”
“The newest leader,” Matilda said. “The master huntsman. He is determined to leave his mark anywhere the hunt goes as a show of strength and dominance. Instead of trying to earn the respect of his followers, he is demanding it as his right. He forgets he is not royal, nor is he a god.”
