Page 7 of Let Slip the Dogs of War

Another vampire follows him. He ducks around Vladimir when he pauses and settles in next to Paxton on the sofa. Their thighs touch. Jeremiah. He looks a handful of years older than Grant, despite the fact that I know he and Vladimir are of a similar age.

“The Huntsman is not here,” Vladimir says. He squeezes Grant’s arm and Grant huffs, crossing to sit in a chair further away from all of us. Once seated, he fixes his big eyes on me. “I am not certain he is in this realm at all.”

“He is,” I say because he must be. If he had crossed the veil, she would not have been taken. Whoever is scheming would have focused their sights on him instead. “But I did not come here for him.”

“No?” Vladimir raises one eyebrow, his face as impassive as that of any fae. His power flexes, and I swallow.

“I require assistance in crossing over.”

Jeremiah huffs in amusement, even as Paxton frowns. Grant frowns, too. He looks as though that is not what he expected me to say.

“I do not understand why you would come to us with that request,” Vladimir says. “You must have spoken to the Guardians when you originally crossed.”

I shake my head and my face goes hot. I did not, just as Ronan never did. But where he used his power—both magical and political—to skirt the rules, I chose a different path. In giving up my magic, I weakened myself. The weaker the fae, the easier it is for them to slip through the veil because the veil is designed to keep the fae hidden and to keep the humans safe.

But I cannot get back. I do not have the magic for that. More importantly, I do not have the time.

“I did not,” I say through gritted teeth, tasting iron when I try to push different words out in their stead. “I require assistance.”

“Surely you can just—” Jeremiah begins, but Grant shakes his head sharply.

“He’s not got enough magic,” he says.

I stare at him, shocked. I can feel Vladimir’s magic, where he is attempting to intimidate me. I can even feel Jeremiah’s and Paxton’s—Paxton has slightly better control over his, but there is less of it.

Grant… I cannot feel his at all. And yet, he knows what I am capable of?

I fight the urge to growl. I understand that I am asking a great favour and that Vladimir is already disinclined to give it to me. He looks sharply at Grant, whose shoulders relax when he looks back.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, he’s barely got anything at all,” Grant says with a shrug. “Didn’t you know?”

Vladimir eyes me speculatively. Perhaps he cannot sense it without trying because I feel his magic press against me now and I bite the inside of my cheek so that I do not bare my teeth.

“Well,” Vladimir says finally, pulling his magic back. “This is a predicament.”

“I simply need to cross over,” I reply.

“Why?” Jeremiah asks.

Vladimir is no fool, but Jeremiah is sharper when he speaks. I bite back the words. Saying that I need to cross over is no lie, but if they probe further…

“You need us to take you to the Guardians,” Jeremiah continues. For all that his tone is designed to cut, his body language is easy, and Paxton merely watches the two of us. “And you need it quickly, clearly. Why is that?”

“I must return.”

“Why?” Vladimir asks. I sigh. They will not help me if I do not tell them, but if I tell them, I risk the pack finding out before I am ready for that. I want to cross over, retrieve Ophelia, and send her back. Return myself, should I find the opportunity.

I do not say any of that. Instead, I pull the note from my pocket and hand it over.

Vladimir opens it and scans the words. His eyebrows rise, but he says nothing as he hands it across to Jeremiah.

Jeremiah’s reaction is far more violent. He would leap from his seat if not for Paxton’s hand on his shoulder, and Paxton’s face is pinched and pale as he reads, too.

Grant holds out his hand, but Paxton hesitates. Grant reaches across and snatches the note from Paxton’s hand. He frowns at it.

“Your soulbond…”