Page 29 of What Fools These Immortals Be
“Please, sit,” I say, instead of voicing any of that. “Maurice will not share any news of your visit.”
Augustine turns his attention to me now, and there’s suspicion in his flat gaze. “Very well,” he says after a moment and takes a seat opposite my desk.
I take the chair behind it, resting my elbows on top. “How can I help you, Augustine?”
“I have a complaint to register, and I thought this might be the most prudent place to begin.”
“Forgive my asking, but you are not part of our clan?”
“No,” Augustine says with a little sniff. “Iwaspart of a smaller clan in Oxfordshire.”
“Was?”
“Most are dead. Tamesis and his wolves saw to that.”
A knot of tangled feelings rises in my chest. Oh, no. “Ah. My condolences. What is it I can do for you?”
“The complaint I wish to make is actually regarding one of the wolves,” Augustine says matter-of-factly, “but I thought to bring it to you first. A wolf killed my partner, Cecil.”
“I… I am sorry for your loss.”
“As am I,” Augustine says. His expression betrays nothing, but that does not mean he does not still feel the hurt. “I have been made aware that the wolf responsible is a member of one of the packs in London and that, so far, he has gone unpunished for this crime.”
“Right.” I don’t know what to do about this, but I know Deacon has been working with the wolves—most of them from Kieran’s former pack—to integrate them either back into their own pack under new leadership or into packs here. “Do you know the wolf’s name?”
“Quinn Murphy.”
I hesitate, just for a second, but Augustine notices, as does Maurice, who sits up a little straighter.
“You know him,” Augustine says.
“I know of him.” I do. And the little I know means there is no chance this will end well. “I can reach out to Alpha Deacon and pass on the complaint.”
“I want more than that, crai,” Augustine says, and now there’s a hard edge to his voice. “I wantblood.”
“I understand. But I still have to raise this with him. I will not risk the treaty because we did not attempt to go through proper channels.”
For a moment, Augustine is too tense, muscles coiled as he sits at the edge of his chair. I hold his gaze. I am in charge here. I am. And I willnotrisk it all because this vampire needs his vengeance.
Either he reads it in my expression, or he knows Maurice will be on him before he can even move because he nods brusquely and gets to his feet. He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a small card, then places it on my desk.
“You can reach me at this number. I await your call.”
Without another word—or even a farewell—Augustine strides over to the door and out into the hall. Mark gives me a brief, surprised look before he scurries after him.
“Fuck,” I mutter as I lean back in my chair.
“This Quinn is…” Maurice trails off, frowning.
“Part of Kieran’s pack,” I say and wave a hand absently when Maurice gives me a questioning look. “It’s going to be a nightmare.”
Better get it over with, at least. I should call Deacon first, then talk to the chieftains and tell them to keep an eye out for Augustine. The viciousness I saw when he said he wanted blood…
I don’t trust that he’ll wait.
It’s early morning, but Deacon answers on the second ring. “Njáll! How are things?”
“Well.” It is strange to talk to him now. We have had so little contact with Deacon ever since he became alpha, but now that he and Vasile are mated, it is as though we are all trying to have relationships that have never had time to mature.
