“Shortsighted?”

Jonathan raised his gaze, looked me over. Not in the way one lover gazed at another, but as a general might gaze upon a weapon. “You are unique among vampires. If they were smart, they’d make you an ally—bring you into the fold. They haven’t, so they aren’t.” He cocked his head. “What’s your interest in Blake’s death? You’re no longer working for the Ombuds’ office, yes?”

I ignored the last bit. “The vampire who killed him says he did it for me, because Blake insulted me. He also tried to kill Connor.”

He was up in an instant, the motion fluid again. “For you?”

“He believes we have a relationship, or should. Did you arrange to meet Blake at the coffee shop?”

“No. That was a coincidence. Or so I thought. Now I’m beginning to wonder.” He shook his head, slipped the frown away. “I had business in the building with a client. I’d finished that, was leaving, found Blake in the lobby.”

“You knew him already.”

“Actually, I didn’t.” He cleared his throat, as if nervous, which I seriously doubted. Probably another tic to help him assimilate, hide whatever it was that roamed beneath his skin.

I understood the feeling.

“I became curious about the AAM’s grievance. I did a bit of research regarding the Compliance Bureau, its members. It was a coincidence that I met him there—if a big one—so I asked him about the charges against you.”

“And what did he say?”

“He said they were justified, regardless of what Chicago’s vampires or the media said about it. He didn’t seem interested in having a good-faith discussion, so I left him.”

I wasn’t sure how much of what he’d told me was true, but this, I believed. If he’d had more information, he’d have dangled it in front of me, a mouse to his cat. But I much preferred the company of wolves.

“How did you leave the building?”

He blinked. “How did I leave? I called an Auto, which brought me back here. Why?”

“Just curious,” I said and pushed off the doorjamb. “Thanks for the information. I’ll leave you to your”—I shifted my gaze to the boxes—“unpacking.”

“You haven’t asked me the most important question.”

I went still in the doorway, glanced back at him. “Which is?”

“Who was with Blake when he was buying coffee.”

I stared at him. “He wasn’t alone?” The surveillance shot showed Blake by himself.

His smile was sly. “He was with a vampire.”

“Who?” I asked, my voice low and heavy. My blood was running now, wanting the name. Wanting the chase. Wanting to throw this man bodily to Clive and let them destroy their own.

But Jonathan Black knew when he held the power. He lifted a shoulder, a movement that was both elegant and careless.

I turned around. “This isn’t the time to play games. Lives are at stake.”

“Life is a game.”

“You said your clients owe me a debt.”

“Ah, but this information didn’t come from a client. It comes from me.” He was smiling now, joy dancing in his eyes. I’d heard elves, not unlike their fairy cousins, were tricksy. Where fairies were the royalty, the soldiers, the purveyors of thick and green magic, elves were the jesters, the tricksters.

But I didn’t have time for games, I thought, frustration growing. “What do you want?”

“Friendship.”

Never take a supernatural deal at face value. “Meaning what?”

“Like I said, I haven’t been in Chicago long. It’s interesting to watch you fight back against entrenched power. If I provide information that helps you, perhaps that makes us allies.”

I stared at him, trying to see through the words to the emotion beneath. To the intentions beneath. But he might as well have been a vampire, they were hidden so well.

“Is it so unusual, Elisa, that someone offers you a little help in exchange for so little?”

“It’s unusual for strangers, yes.”

He watched me for a minute, then turned away, walked back to the fireplace, propped an arm on the mantel. “An unfortunate outlook.”

“A realistic outlook,” I said. “We are not friends. We are not allied. But we are not enemies. That’s the best I’ll do.”

Whatever he saw in my eyes seemed to satisfy him. “Your terms are accepted. He was with Greg Voss.”

I stared at him. “Who the hell is Greg Voss?”

“Ah,” he said with a smile. “That’s for you to figure out.”

I cursed under my breath. Nothing was easy with old magic. “Thank you again,” I said through gritted teeth.

“Even if my motivations are suspect?”

“All Sup motivations are suspect. Magic is the best disguise.”

I left him alone with those words, a mourning dove calling in the darkness as I walked back to the SUV. Dan stood outside, arms crossed and watching.

“There was a lot of power in there.”

“Yeah, there was.” I smiled at him. “Were you going to come to my rescue?”

“If necessary.” But when he stood again, there was nothing pleasant in the dark gaze he aimed at the house. “Is he an enemy or ally?”

“Don’t ask,” I said. “Let’s get out of here.”

He glanced back at me, expression pained. “You smell of his magic.”

I sighed. Of course I did. A parting gift from a new friend.

* * *

* * *

I texted Theo and Petra the second the vehicle was moving again, the inquiry simple: j. black says blake was with ‘greg voss’ at b&c coffee shop. who is he?

They hadn’t responded by the time we made it back to the NAC building, thankfully without incident. I thanked Dan and found Connor in the otherwise empty lobby reviewing his screen.

“No bar?” I asked, striding toward him. “No beer and lounge?”

“Too much noise, too much magic.” He rose and put the screen away, crossed to me, and then sniffed. “There’s magic all over you.” And he looked, as predicted, displeased.

“Can you throw a supernatural breeze in my direction? Make it go away?”

He just blinked.

“That’s what I thought. So if you’re going to say something like, ‘no foreign magic in my territory,’ let’s just skip it.” I patted him on the chest. “I’ll take a shower as soon as I can. Who is Greg Voss?”

His brows lifted. “Who?”

I cursed. “I had a feeling you’d say that,” I told him, and relayed my byplay with Jonathan Black.

“Old magic,” he cursed.

“That’s exactly what I said.” My screen buzzed, and I pulled it out, found an incoming call from Theo and Petra.

“We okay to talk here?” I asked Connor.

“Sure. But give them a heads-up.”

“We’re in the NAC building,” I said, answering the call. “So guide yourselves accordingly.” I narrowed my gaze at Petra. “Why do you have glitter stars around your eyes?”

“I had a date,” she said with a smile. “And I’m pulling them off.”

“You totally are. Good date?”

That smile went wide. “Her name is Jules and she is exceedingly into me. I’m bi,” she added. “In case you didn’t know.”

“I didn’t,” I said, wishing I could give her a hug. “Thanks for telling me. And I’m going to need all the date details later. But for now, back to killer vampires.” I looked at Theo. “And you?”

“No glitter stars. No date. But Greg Voss was a human who was turned fifty years ago. It doesn’t appear he goes by that name any longer. But I think you’ll recognize his face.”

He and Glitter Stars disappeared, their images replaced by a white guy with blond hair. Average features, good smile, square jaw.

And I’d seen all those features before.

“Son of a bitch,” I muttered, staring down at the man who—according to Jonathan Black—had stalked me, killed Blake, and tried to kill Connor.

Greg Voss was Clive’s goddamned brother—Levi, one of the vampires who’d come to my door that first night.

It took me a full beat to understand that, to grapple with it. I’d spoken to him for, what, seconds in the doorway? That I knew so little about him, had seen so little of him, and yet had become an object of his obsession, seemed . . . worse . . . somehow.

What scenes had played out between us in this man’s mind? Didn’t matter, I told myself. I had to deal with my immediate circumstances.

“Levi,” I said finally.

“Yep.”

“Pick him up,” Connor demanded. “Now.”

“We told Gwen before we called you, and she’s on it. Cops stationed at the Portman Grand say he’s not at the hotel.”

“Is he at the NAC building?” I asked.

“I’ll handle that,” Connor said and pulled out his screen.

“Clive will know where he is,” I told Theo. “Sequester the vamps at the Portman Grand and find out.”

“Did Jonathan Black say Levi killed Blake?”

“No,” I said, irritation rising, because I knew what was coming.

“So you’ve got a person who saw Blake with another vampire. Possibly the killer, but that’s supposition. We have no hard physical evidence Levi was with Blake, or that Levi killed Blake. We don’t have a basis to hold Levi, much less anyone else. But we’re looking for him,” Theo said again, “and we’ll find him. In the meantime, don’t do anything rash.”

I ended the call before I started screaming, then stuffed my screen into my pocket and paced down the hall, considered seriously punching a fist into drywall.

Seriously considered but didn’t actually. I was sick to death of vampires. But I’d made enough problems for Connor with the Pack, and exacerbating it wasn’t going to do anything.