Page 81 of The Wolf Queen’s Curse

The half-demon smacks into the wall and then teleports out of Bishop’s path. He only goes a few feet, which suggests he really is the lowest-level subtype. When we both turn on him, he lifts his hands in surrender. I’m about to speak when the man I’d kicked earlier decides this is his chance. He leaps to his feet, but Bishop sees the movement, and he’s on him in a heartbeat. Before I can blink, Bishop gets the man in a headlock and snaps his neck.

The teleporting half-demon backs up, hands lifted. “I didn’t hurt your, er, um, your—”

“Wife,” Bishop says.

“I didn’t touch her. I wouldn’t hit a woman. Not even a witch. Just let me go.”

“And you’ll take a message for me?”

“Y-yes, sir. What’s the message?”

Bishop waves at the bodies littering the alley. “This.”

He lets the man run, and I arch a brow. Not at letting the half-demon escape, but at the fact we could have gotten more from him first. Bishop stalks over to where the werewolf lies facedown on the ground. He plucks my blade from the man’s back, wipes it on the man’s shirt, and holds it out to me. As I take it, Bishop lifts the wolf and shakes him.

It takes a moment, but then he’s awake and standing, braced against the wall, his breath coming in rasps, and he glowers at Bishop.

“You could have done me the courtesy of killing me while I was unconscious,” the werewolf says in an accent that sounds close to Germanic. “I do not suppose you will do it quickly.”

“If I wanted you dead, I would indeed have done it while you were unconscious.”

The werewolf wipes blood from his mouth. “If you expect me to convey a message—”

“I do not, which is why I sent your teleporting companion with it. I know you wouldn’t run back to your master, tail between your legs, and admit you failed.”

The werewolf shakes his head, his faint smile sardonic. “She is not my master. The arrangement was temporary and financial in nature.”

“Then you won’t mind answering questions?”

He eyes Bishop speculatively. “Another temporary and financial arrangement?”

“Temporary. Not financial. You’re free to refuse, and then I kill you and ask my questions to one over there.” Bishop points at the unconscious supernatural. “I left myself options.”

“The woman who hired me goes by the name Maggie McCain. I presume that is what you wish to know. She controls the supernaturals in this gods-forsaken city. She is a high-level half-demon with the power of fire, which she mainly uses to kill or maim those who displease her.”

“And how did she know I was here?”

“A witch sold her the information.”

“Beatrice,” I mutter.

The wolf’s eyes flick my way. He’s close enough to catch my scent, but he oddly doesn’t react to it. He must not recognize the lycan scent, which would mean that, to him, I’m just a witch. Good. That keeps this simpler.

“Yes, that was her name,” he says.

“What did she tell Maggie?” I ask, and I half expect him to ignore me but he shrugs and says, “That there was a new Albion Alpha, and he was paying his respects to the Caledonian Alpha. He was passing through Glasgow, and the witch thought Maggie should know.”

“About your employer,” Bishop says. “What did she want with me?”

“Only to introduce herself. Of course, that could be done with an invitation, but bringing you in by force would be a show of power.”

“And an insult that would not be forgotten. If she had any chance of forging an alliance, she destroyed it with that.”

“I considered telling her so, but she did not ask my opinion. She has very little experience with werewolves. I do not believe she intended you any harm—I see no point in killing an Alpha—but she is a woman who kicks when a nudge would do. I was not planning to stay with her long. She lacks finesse.”

I look at the wolf, who’s as tall as Bishop and broader, with a face that seems as if he’s had more than just his nose broken before. Not a man I’d expect to value finesse, but he speaks like a gentleman, and despite the heavy accent, his English is perfect.

Bishop asks him more questions, and he answers easily enough, but he has nothing more of importance to give. News of Bishop’s ascension hadn’t otherwise reached Glasgow, which is why Beatrice’s information had value. Beatrice hadn’t mentioned the Levine Cabal or that Hamish had set Bishop on a task. She’d insisted Bishop was only in Scotland for a friendly meeting with the Caledonians.