Page 25 of Fae Divided
Sarah surveyed the mound of food on her dish with no hope of making a dent in it. The time with James had moderately revived her appetite, but even at full health, she couldn’t eat more than a portion of what Noah had ordered for her.
“Blackwater can’t tell you either. It’s Guard business.” He saw her hesitation and pushed the plate closer, the glint in his eyes snuffed out like a candle’s flame. “Eat.”
James was right; Noah couldn’t know that he’d made contact. The angry alpha in her son would want to confront his sire, which would lead to Noah’s insistence on getting involved and then acting with rashness when James sent him home like a pup.
One family member risking his life was quite enough for Sarah.
Determined to ease Noah’s worry on one front, she picked up her fork and prepared to eat herself sick.
“How do baby chickens dance?” he asked her, pouring a stream of sweet syrup over her waffles with a flourish. “Chick to chick.”
“Noah—”
“What do you call a chicken crossing the road?”
“What?”
A dramatic pause. “Poultry in motion.”
Sarah concentrated on her pile of food, tears obscuring her vision. Noah used humor to bank the fires of his rage, but underneath she knew hurt fueled the flames.
“Does Samuel know who and why?” Sarah finally asked when the males’ plates were wiped clean, and she couldn’t eat another bite. Mindful of the public setting, she left the question vague.
The males shared a look but stayed silent.
“I felt my brother’s panic as keenly as the rest of the pack whenithappened,” she pushed, placing her napkin over the half-eaten meal. “I can still feel his fury. His pain.”
“Maybe they…broke up.” Noah’s focus was riveted on his iced tea, idly wiping the condensation on the tall glass away with his thumb.
Hop snorted. A couple in the midst of a successful Mating Dance did not end the relationship. The suggestion was absurd.
“Okay, okay,” he said, slouching in his seat. “No. And maybe.”
She turned to Hop. “You were there when she was—”Kidnapped.
His set expression told the story: grim and wracked with guilt.
“You were tranquilized,” Sarah said softly, still cognizant of being overheard by more than clanmates. Hop had been part of the team on duty the night Abby was last seen.
Several vampires were scattered throughout the café, and all of them possessed extraordinary hearing. The Dádhe were able to consume more than just the human blood they needed to survive. The ability to eat tasteless foods like plain potatoes, pasta, and lattes without adverse effects allowed them to enjoy the social aspect of dining out with friends, which they did as frequently as any other race.
Sarah wasn’t as concerned with the Anwyll in the room; inscribing runes to boost sensory abilities was atypical for ninety-nine percent of the witch population.
“It wasn’t your fault.” She knew the stoic Ferwyn blamed himself for Abby’s disappearance, and that Noah’s earlier teasing remarks were meant to force him to see the truth.
“Chess, of course,” she said, mentally snapping her fingers. How else would the Guard members assigned to patrolling the club’s exterior—the best of the best in the Fae Touched community—be forced out of commission? It was frightening knowing there was a chemical in the hands of their enemies strong enough to incapacitate an adult male shifter. Take down an immortal Dádhe. Outwit an elite battle witch.
“What about Chess?”
Sarah startled at the high-pitched voice that seemed to come out of nowhere.
The oldest of the Dádhe were capable of incredible stealth and could walk as quietly as a Ferwyn in wolf form. And though he looked like a teenager, this particular vampire was not young.
Hop’s broad shoulders tightened, the only outward sign he’d been caught as unaware as Sarah by the vampire’s arrival. The crowded restaurant, chattering patrons, and muddled scents were a reasonable excuse for missing the male’s approach, but Sarah knew her friend was beyond irritated.
Noah shoved his empty plate aside and leaned his forearms on the table, throwing the baby-faced vampire a lazy smile. “Gregory, what’s up?”
Gregory Alfred Hutchins was Prince Myles’ assistant and all-around gopher. The slender Dádhe had been with the Standish House’s thlán since before the signing of the Fae Accord, and the establishment of the nine autonomous Fae Touched regions. Gregory’s exact age was unknown. Sarah assumed he’d been at least nineteen or twenty when transitioned since humans had to be adults to survive an Infusion. But with his short stature, the mop of dark unruly curls, and his huge, cornflower blue eyes, he looked fifteen. Tops.
