Page 69 of Siege of Blood and Betrayal

“Well, stop thinking,” I snap, my voice cold. “We’re on an information-gathering hunt, not a treasure hunt.”

Jaxon swallows hard and nods. “Got it.”

Huntley’s face remains unreadable as usual. “Make a right on York and go up to Queen. I’ll point out the way once we get closer.”

I slide back into my seat, the vibrations of the engine pulling us along as we cruise through the streets of the downtown core.

The city surrounds us, skyscrapers reaching high before giving way to smaller buildings as we head along Queen Street. The nightlife is just beginning to awaken, the energy in the air palpable. But despite the familiar sights and sounds, something still feels off. I search the sightlines of the rooftops and the faces of the people living their lives.

Paranoid much?

Then again, knowing that there is a vampire army actively hunting me down to cut my head off is reason enough to be jittery.

Huntley leans forward, taps Jaxon’s shoulder, and points toward the side of the road. “Park there.”

I glance out the window, frowning at a drag club next to a rundown soup kitchen. The drag club is all lit up with marquis lights and poster boards displaying their upcoming show called Bacon and Leggs. The soup kitchen next door looks more like an afterthought than a place for us to find answers.

“Where the fuck are you taking me?” I narrow my gaze on Huntley. “You expect to get information about the underground workings of vampire power players at a homeless shelter?”

Huntley grins, his expression calm as always. “Wait here for us, Jaxon. Park and wait. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Jaxon mutters something under his breath about being underappreciated and shuts off the engine.

I don’t have the patience for Jaxon’s drama tonight. As soon as Huntley is at my door, I step out and scan the building ahead. The rundown structure looks like it could collapse with a hard gust of wind.

“You take me to the nicest places,” I deadpan, crossing my arms as I take in the view.

Huntley chuckles, a rare sound that catches me off guard. “Ignore the exterior. It’s what’s inside that counts. And don’t kid yourself. We both know the places I take you.”

I shake my head. “You’re awfully sure of yourself.”

He waggles his brows and then gestures for me to get moving. Together, we make our way to the entrance, and the moment we step inside, I’m hit with the scent of fresh bread, savory soup, and the faint tang of baked apple.

Not at all what I expected.

The place is alive with the sounds of clinking dishes and the murmur of cheerful voices. It’s barely seven, and the line for food stretches all the way to the back of the room.

“Apparently, the locals know where to go to get their free food fix.”

Huntley walks with purpose, leading me around the throng of people. Given his height, broad shoulders, and general ‘don’t fuck with me’ vibe, people make way for us to pass. His focus tells me he’s looking for someone specific.

I scan the rows of bench seating as we pass, searching for any potential threats. Not that I expect to find any among humans who have no clue who or what we are.

What dangers could they pose? But then a subtle ripple of magic raises the hair on my arms and the smell of char speaks of demon folk.

There are more than just humans here.

“What is this place?”

Huntley casts a glance back at me as he reaches the serving area. “Exactly what it looks like. It’s a soup kitchen and a safe place for anyone who needs one.”

“You got that right, baby. Welcome. And after the way the world’s been treating you, I expect you could use a little home-cooked comfort.” The woman who speaks is tall—easily six-foot-six—and is standing behind the counter in a hot pink animal print sheath dress, ladling out bowls of soup.

She bats her sparkly blue eyelashes at us and sets two large bowls up on the tray, waiting on the sneeze guard. After she adds a plate with two wide wads of fresh bread, she gestures for us to take them. “Have a seat, gentlemen, and I’ll be with you in two shakes.”

Huntley reaches up and gathers the tray, then turns toward me. “Close your mouth, Z. It’s rude to stare. Come on. There’s an empty table near the back.”

I follow Huntley, my mind spinning out. Growing up as the heir to the Vasari seat of power left me sheltered from many things in the human world, but she was exceptionallyinteresting. “How do you know about this place? And who was that?”

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