Author: Kalayna Price

He rotated his arms, stretching his shoulders, but he didn’t meet my eyes. “Sorry,” he finally said, rolling his neck. “They jumped me while I was redressing. I didn’t hear them coming. They’re more powerful than they look.”

“Wasn’t your fault.” I glanced inside. Regan had backed up all the way to the swinging doors, but that was as far as he seemed willing to retreat. “Well, the vampires are inside the house. I say we stay out here.”

I was joking—mostly—but Bobby frowned. Gooseflesh puckered along his wide shoulders and chest. Damn, I keep forgetting about the temperature. Bobby must have been freezing, standing shirtless in the snow. Only a couple weeks as a vampire and I was already taking for granted the fact that blood, not ambient temperatures, affected my comfort level. But Bobby was a shifter, not a vampire, and shifters didn’t do well in human form in the cold.

Well, I have to face the enforcers some time. I stepped inside, but I didn’t go far. Regan was still growling.

Anaya turned to me. “Call off your dog.”

“Uh, Regan, stop?”

The dog didn’t so much as pause.

Bobby snapped his fingers, pointing at the dog. “Down.”

Regan looked at him, then whining, lowered first his front half then his back half to the floor.

Oh, that was totally unfair.

With the dog no longer a threat, Anaya swept through the double doors leading to the rest of the house. Clive hung back. He leaned against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest and keeping an eye on Bobby and me.

“Rather quaint, isn’t it?” He indicated the kitchen and its large birch table, bay window, and row of simple cabinets with a jut of his chin. His tone wasn’t complementary.

I didn’t bother answering, but rocked on my heels. My feet itched to move. I didn’t like being in close quarters with the enforcers, especially not without Nathanial present. But I wasn’t about to run for it and leave Bobby to them. That just wasn’t an option.

Anaya swept back through the door, her dark gaze driving into me. “Where is your Master?”

“Not here. I told you that.”

A muscle twitched over her temple, jerking the edge of her thick brow. “Where is the Hermit?” she asked, but with her accent, it sounded like she asked where ‘de Ermite’ was.

How many times did I have to repeat myself? “Not here. He went back to Death’s Angel.”

Her crimson nails slashed through the air, dismissing my statement. “We just came from there.”

I looked down and licked the corner of my mouth.

Nathanial was missing? Not good. Spreading my stance, I crossed my arms over my chest and met Anaya’s gaze again.

I didn’t care if I looked defensive. Hell, I was on the defensive.

“Nathanial dropped me off before heading back to Death’s Angel. If you didn’t see him, you must have crossed paths.”

Anaya and Clive exchanged a glance, mirrored expressions of annoyance making their lips hard. Clive pushed off the counter and swaggered up to the kitchen table. He dragged a chair over the tile, and held it for Anaya to sink into. Then he sat, propping his boots on Nathanial’s burnished table top.

“De Council—the Hermit not included, seeing as he was absent—demands your presence, little one.” A cruel smile crawled over Anaya’s face as she spoke. Nothing that made her smile like that would be healthy for me. I shivered, but she wasn’t finished yet. “They have questions. I suggest you supply answers.”

The pressure in the room changed, and another shiver tingled along my arms. Not a visceral response from Anaya’s threats, but… Crap. Magic.

Not now.

Now was definitely a bad time. An almost inaudible pop whispered inside my ear, and Gil appeared behind the two enforcers.

I don’t know what the mage had been doing before she arrived, but she’d clearly miscalculated something because she appeared three feet from the ground. She hung in midair for less than a heartbeat. Then she hit the tile with a yelp.

The enforcers jumped at the sound, springing from their chairs with smooth malice. They circled Gil as she pushed off the ground, her cheeks flushed.

Clive grabbed her wrist. “Where did you come from?”

Gil’s eyes grew wider than the shiny brass buttons on her pink coat. “You’re… vampires?” She threw a desperate look at me.

What the hell was I supposed to do? I cleared my throat.

“Gil, please go back to the living room.”

Gil nodded, her black curls dancing vigorously around her head. She stumbled back, but Clive still held her wrist. He glanced at Anaya. Her shoulders were rolled back, her fists clenched as if anticipating an ambush, but she nodded. Clive released Gil’s wrist, and Gil darted from the room. Thank the moon, If they hadn’t let her go, I had no idea what I’d have done. What I could do.

Anaya returned to the table, but her eyes were sharp as her dark gaze landed on me once more. Clive remained against the back counter, where I knew from experience he could see the entire room and both doors. Not that he could have possibly known Gil had honestly appeared out of nowhere. I was more than happy to let him think she’d simply snuck up on them.

Anaya’s teeth clicked, and I smiled despite the fear clawing my stomach. They were on my turf—well, Nathanial’s, at the very least, and he was a council member. He surely outranked a couple enforcers. Gil’s appearance had unbalanced them. Maybe I could work that to my advantage.

I dropped into the chair across from Anaya and placed my elbows on the table-top.

Anaya lifted an eyebrow, as if to say she couldn’t believe my gall, but she leaned back against her chair. “We also came to deliver a message to the Hermit. Since he is not here…”

I laced my fingers together and propped my chin on my hands without lowering my gaze. “I can pass it along.”

“No. I think we will report to the rest of the council. Clive.”

She stood, extending her hand. Clive, shorter than Anaya by at least a foot, scrambled over, taking his mistress’s hand.

She turned and studied me as if I were a bug she hadn’t thought would make such a mess when squashed. “When the Hermit returns, he will take you to the council. I would suggest you not delay. We go now.”

Clive flashed his fangs at me, then wrapped his arms around Anaya’s waist. “See you soon,” he said, but the menace in his tone made it clear I wouldn’t enjoy myself when I returned to Death’s Angel.

Then they vanished.

Chapter Four

A surprised sound escaped from deep in Bobby’s throat. He pushed away from the wall, his eyes cutting across the room, searching for the vampires who’d disappeared.

I motioned him to keep quiet. I’d learned from my last encounter with the enforcers that they weren’t bound by conventional travel, but I’d been under the impression they flew, physically flew through the air, like Nathanial. But the kitchen wasn’t exactly a launch-pad, what with the roof overhead. The door was closed, so it was possible they were still in the room. Invisible. Watching.

Tipping my head back, I searched for scents betraying hidden vampires. Everyone who had walked into the kitchen tonight had tainted the room, and my olfactory glands simply weren’t strong enough now that I was a vampire to detect if the scents were wafting off unseen bodies.

Before I could ask Bobby for help, Regan stood and trudged to the space where the vampires had last been seen.

He sniffed hard. Then he snorted, turned, and trotted out of the room.

Well, okay, Regan had clearly dismissed Anaya and Clive.

But did I really trust the instincts of a dog? Yeah. This time.

He had realized they were on the porch before I did, and he had shown the good taste to dislike them.

Good enough for me.

Now to figure out what Gil wanted. I wasn’t scheduled for lab-rat duty with the mage tonight.

“Gil.” I pushed through the swinging doors and headed for the den.

It was empty. Had she left already?

“Gil?”

No answer. Maybe she’s in the window-less part of the house? Nathanial kept an impressive library there, and I could just imagine Gil, a scholar, drooling over it.

“Gildamina!”

I pushed open the thick door separating the ‘show’ section of the house from the part catering to vampires. The lighttight seals slurped as the suction broke.

“What was that?” Bobby asked, a step behind me.

“What was what?”

“You screamed something,” he said as the door swung closed behind us.

“What, ‘Gildamina?’”

A frown dug into Bobby’s forehead. “What’s that? Some sort of human slang?”

I pushed open the study door. She wasn’t there.

“Gildamina. It’s Gil’s full name.”

Magic surged over my skin, lifting goosebumps.

“There you are,” I said, turning toward the twinge of magic.

Gil stood in the hall behind me. A bright flush ignited her cheeks, burning into her eyes. Her fingers flared wide at her sides, as if she’d just forced her fists to unclench.

“Where did you learn my name?” The words were a whisper, as if she were forcing them out around a solid knot of anger in her throat.

“Uh.” Okay, this wasn’t a response I expected. Gil tended toward mousey. She was a know-it-all, sure, but this barely contained temper was more like, well, me. Her voice wasn’t even squeaky at the moment. I blinked at her. “The judge called you Gildamina.”

“Don’t use my name!” A nerve twitched under her eye.

Then she took a deep breath, released it, and tugged on her coat in a stiff movement. “I’ve read that shifters have no true names, so you wouldn’t understand.” She frowned at me, her eyebrows cinching together. “You shouldn’t have been able to hear my true name.” Her scroll appeared in her hand. She jotted something down.

“Why not?”

She didn’t bother looking up from her notes, but asked, “Bobby, what’s my full name?”