Page 46 of The Enemy to the Living
“It was exactly the same,” I say.
Maurice frowns. “What do you mean?”
“When I went in this time, the place was exactly the same as last time, but the building’s different.”
“They’ve been fucking around with space.”
Vlad shakes his head. “That is the least of our problems.”
“Yes,” Maurice concedes, “but it is asolvableproblem. Or, I should say, a problem that could lead us to them.”
“Quickly enough?” I ask.
Maurice’s almost-smile drops from his face. “I don’t know.”
He never doesn’t know. He knows. It’s just not the answer we want to hear.
I run my fingers over my phone in my pocket. Quinn. Did he fight last night? He left earlier than I’ve seen him leave before.
“Will you be able to find the new place, do you think?” Vlad asks me.
I don’t know what Quinn’s deal is, but I know it’s not over. “Yeah,” I say. “I think so. Maybe tonight.”
“I need to go and talk to the Guardians,” Maurice says apologetically. “And I hate to say it, but we should call the Huntsman.”
“We’re sacrificing him?” Grant asks from the front seat. He twists to face us, and I see Noah’s hands are tight on the wheel.
“I’ll go look tonight,” I say. “Maurice, he’ll last that long?”
“I hope so.”
“What am I looking for?”
“If they kept his wolf—if they didn’t just take it and throw it away—then it’ll be stored somewhere. Your blessing, you’ll feel it.” His eyes sharpen. “You’re probably the best person to send.”
Vlad frowns but doesn’t ask and I’m glad for it. “I’ll see if I can find it today, even,” I say. “If I do?”
“Take it back to him. Open the vessel. Should be straightforward enough; the wolf will want to return to him.”
“Okay.”
Maurice nods decisively. “I’ll call the Guardians when we get in, let them know I’m coming. They might be able to advise. Vlad, you’ve got the Huntsman?”
“Yes,” Vlad says. He sighs. “I fear we have a very long day ahead of us.”
Chapter Sixteen
Quinn
Idon’tremembergettinghome.I don’t remember anything after leaving Mischief & Mayhem aside from the rush of blood in my ears and the distinct feeling I might pass out.
I don’t. I mean, I suppose I don’t. I don’t really know.
I must fall asleep at some point because I wake with a start on the bathroom floor. I shuffle back against the shower stall, heart racing, entire body primed and ready to run.
No one’s here. Of course no one’s here because I’m back in my flat and I’m safe—or as safe as I can be, knowing that—
Bryn.
