Page 6 of Let Slip the Dogs of War

“No, I mean—”

“Grant sent a text,” Sam says, and I frown. “It’s all… Me and Kieran are going to go over there, see what’s up.”

“I’m coming.”

“No, it’s—”

“I’m coming.”

Sam looks at me for a moment, face twisted in sympathy. He doesn’t want me to come, and I don’t know why. We’re all good friends. Ophelia and Sam did English Lit together at college, and then she brought him by one day to meet the rest of us. Well, Felix had swanned off by then, but I stuck around. So did Sam.

But Ophelia and I have been friends since we were eleven. Twenty years, give or take. I’m not being left out of the loop on this.

“Fuck, okay. Let’s get over there. Grant was fucking vague, and I don’t think we have all that much time.”

I shove my shoes on and don’t bother to lock the door behind me as I follow Sam out into the hallway. There’s no need. We rush down the stairs, and Quinn and Kieran are waiting at the bottom, Kieran almost vibrating with nervous energy.

“Here.” He tosses the car keys to Sam.

“You’re coming?” Sam asks Quinn, who nods once but says nothing in reply. It’s probably for the best that he’s joining us. His mate, Asher, is a member of the Wild Hunt, which means he might be able to convince the rest of them to talk to us if they decide to keep things close to their chests.

“Let’s get a move on,” Kieran all but growls, and I shiver. “She’s already been gone too long.”

Chapter Three

Lark

As soon as the sun crests the sky, I make my way to Kensington, the seat of the Wild Hunt’s base. I have already sent Drew a message, asking him not to come in today—I cited that it was a personal matter I had to deal with, but no doubt he will soon know the true cause of my absence.

It matters not. He cannot help with this, and I would not be the one to put him in harm’s way if he could. No doubt his pack will soon realise one of their members is missing. Dante will—

I dismiss the thought and rap neatly on the door. The wards that Maurice and Iagan have erected around this place allow me passage, weak as I am, but I am not one to barge in unannounced.

Not yet.

The door opens a minute or so later, and a young vampire blinks up at me. His hair is all a mess, shirt sloppily buttoned up, and he does not seem to heed that the sun has risen at all.

His eyes widen. “You’re… What are you doing here?”

“Grant,” another voice chastises from behind him. Human. Fae-blessed, but human underneath that. He is taller than Grant and looks to be older, though when I try to remember, I believe they are perhaps of a similar age. “Invite him in.”

Grant blinks at me again, then steps aside so I can pass.

The hallway is narrow, but he presses back against the wall and watches as I walk inside. The human—Paxton, I remember, because Drew has mentioned him—gestures for me to follow him into another room. A sitting room. The furnishings are dark, well-maintained, and old enough that I can hardly sense a speck of life in all that wood.

“Get Vlad,” Paxton says, then drops onto the sofa, still watching me.

I sit carefully in one of the armchairs. I have never visited the Wild Hunt like this before. Our paths have crossed, of course, and Vladimir was the one who came to me when I finally made my decision to come through the veil and remain, but we are not… friendly.

I am not friendly with anyone. I do not wish to be.

The paper is folded up in my pocket. Paxton says nothing as we wait. He watches me instead, and despite all the time I have spent among humans, his face is entirely unreadable.

Humans think that of us. Thought that of us. Without my glamour, my face is far less expressive than in its human form. But humans—all the creatures here who are not fae, in fact—can do one thing we cannot.

They can lie.

Grant bounds back into the living room a few minutes later, though his steps slow and his eyes widen again when he sees me. It is as though he expects me to have left. Following him at a much more sedate pace and looking much more put-together despite the hour, is Vladimir.