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“Boss is up in VIP. You need an escort?”
It was…sweet, almost.
“I’m good, big guy,” Fey said, patting him on the chest and shooting him a patronizing smile. “But thanks.”
The place was empty, and from the looks of it, most of the staff hadn’t shown up for their shifts yet. Fey saw no sign of the handsome bartender she’d seen before and wasn’t sure if what she felt was disappointed or relieved.
For the first time, Fey noticed the complete lack of windows in the club. It wasn’t unusual, she supposed, since nightclubs thrived when there was barely enough light to see your hand in front of your face. But, still, it made a macabre sort of sense to her. What’s the point in windows, anyway, when your owner can’t be caught in the daylight?
Sure enough, just as the Wolf had promised, Alastair was seated in the empty VIP section, drinking, and watching her as she crossed the room toward him. He said nothing when she approached, just motioned her to sit down opposite him.
“I have the information you wanted,” he told her as she slid into the booth.
For a moment Fey thought he might ask for something in return, some form of payment. But he only stared at her for a few moments, before reaching under the table and producing a crisp tan folder. He slid it across the desk toward her, and Fey took it, her mouth dry.
Inside there were photos—blurry, but still high enough resolution for her to make out enough detail. Photos of Alice. Alice, sitting in a booth she recognized from downstairs in the club. Alice, drinking something, staring into the distance.
Alice, speaking to a male.
“Do you recognize him?” Alastair asked, leaning forward to tap his finger next to the photo. It was hard to make out his face, but he had long dark hair, a bushy beard, and thick-rimmed glasses.
“No,” Fey shook her head. She was… disappointed. As though she’d expected to recognize whoever it was, as though she’d expected it to be someone she knew.
But Alastair leaned back in his seat, nodding like it confirmed what he already knew.
“His name is Phillip,” he said. “Phillip Danvers. And he’s a ghost.”
She glanced up at him in confusion, and he waved the word away. “A nobody,” he clarified. “A nothing. He’s not a regular here, so I had no reason to look out for him, but after I pulled the security cameras from that night, I sent out some feelers.”
Fey nodded, and he kept going.
“He’s not a drug dealer.”
Now that? That was a surprise, and it must have shown on Fey’s face because Alastair shrugged.
“I know that’s not what you were expecting, and I’m sorry, but he’s not.”
“I don’t understand,” Fey told him. “Alice was looking into some sort of club drug—so he’s not the dealer?”
“As far as I can tell? No.”
“So, what is he? A whistleblower?”
Alastair shook his head and sighed.
“As far as I can tell, Witchling, this guy is about as far from being involved in the drug trade as you can get. He’s squeaky clean—and that’s not something I’m used to finding when I send my hounds out to hunt down someone’s secrets. He’s a professor, of all fucking things, at the City University, in the Med Witch department. No ties to any gangs, no ties to the dipshits in Prey for the Crown, no ties to anything even remotely shady as far as I can tell. He’s never been arrested, never had a complaint filed against him with the Crown. The guy is as clean as they come.”
Fey was shaking her head. It didn’t make any sense. “I don’t understand. If he’s clean, why was she here meeting him that night?”
Alastair considered her. “Is it possible she was seeing him?” he asked. “Romantically?”
The question immediately conjured an image of Joy. The touches that passed between her and Alice. The smiles, the secret glances. The nights spent in each other’s bedrooms, close enough that Fey could hear them. “No,” Fey shook her head. “No. She had someone else.”
Alastair’s stare was intense. “That doesn’t always stop people,” he said, carefully.
But Fey only laughed. “It would have stopped her. She was happy, Alastair. She was…” Fey searched for the words. “Understood. She had someone who understood her, really understood her. Someone who loved her. She didn’t need anyone else.”
Alastair nodded like he knew how important that was. Hell, maybe he did.
