Page 2 of Fallen Court

Curious eyes probed me as the creatures gathered their winnings and shuffled out of the back room, glancing back nervously at the money on the table. But I ignored them, unwilling to let my old friend out of my sight. Mostly because I wasn’t sure that Durant still qualified as a friend, or whatever passed for friendship between our kinds. Vampires always had their own agendas—as did we—so even when we were on good terms, neither species trusted the other.

“I can’t believe Veronica let you in here,” he said when they were gone.

“I didn’t give her a choice,” I admitted.

Durant lounged back, and his open shirt collar revealed a coin pendant hanging from a cord. His hair, nearly as pale as his skin, was longer than I’d seen it in a century. He toyed with one of his leather gloves thoughtfully, and then, in a flash, a gun was pointed in my direction. “You are the last sorry piece of shit I expected to drag his ass in here tonight. I ought to kill you for what you did.”

Not friends, then.

I didn’t bother to draw my own weapon. Instead, I slid a smile onto my face. “Your sister is better off without me.” I lifted my hands in obligatory surrender. “Besides that, I’m a changed man.”

The skin on my wrist itched at the words, as if to remind me just how changed I was. The intersecting ribbons of gold—proof of my newest bargain and one that could never be broken—were hidden beneath their own glamour, but I never forgot they were there. The mark of our handfasting—a bond sealed by fate—burned and ached on my skin, and I doubted it would calm until Cate was safely by my side.

Durant stared over the barrel of his 9-millimeter, a slow grin breaking across his face. “My sister? I was talking about you cheating at cards the last time I visited New Orleans.” Just as quickly as it appeared, the gun was re-holstered. He stood, buttoning his suit jacket, then crossed the room with a swift grace that belied his true nature. “I owe you one for my sister. She is better off without you. I might have had to kill you if you had stuck it out.”

Without warning, he slung an arm around my shoulder and pulled me into a hug. My chest tightened with wary surprise, but I clapped a hand on his back. At least Durant was a lot more forgiving than his sister.

“Just stopping by for a visit?” He pointed to the pair of twin chairs situated before the oak desk. I sank into the red leather seat, but Durant continued to a gold bar cart and poured two glasses of whiskey.

“I need information.” There was no point circling around that fact. Friendly charade aside, we both knew better than to trust each other. That was the trouble with arms dealers—and vampires. They were notoriously slippery.

He turned and passed a crystal glass to me. I took it but didn’t drink.

“Like the fact that you’re marked by the Wild Hunt?” he asked.

I lifted a brow. So he knew. That didn’t surprise me—it was why I’d come to him. He dealt in more than just weapons. “I see good news travels fast.”

“You pissed off a lot of people in your day. Your enemies are happy to drink to your imminent demise. That tattoo on your neck doesn’t help.”

I touched the raised tattoo on the back of my neck and frowned. The Hunt’s brand couldn’t be glamoured, and I kept forgetting it was there. The winged skull and crossbones held an ancient warning that every creature understood. Memento mori: remember that you will die.

But I wasn’t going to die today. Not before I found Cate.

Durant sank into the chair across the desk from me and took a slow sip of his whiskey, glancing at the untouched glass in my hand. “If I wanted you dead, I would have just shot you.”

But we both knew the drink was laced. Not with poison, but with something that leveled the playing field. Yarrow? Probably hedgethorne. Both herbs would limit my ability to call on my magic, ensuring I wouldn’t use it against Durant but also that I couldn’t escape. The drink was a test.

I lifted the glass with a grim smile and took a sip. The whiskey did a decent job hiding the herbs, save for a slight trace of bittersweetness.

I had either proved to Durant that he could relax—or that I was so desperate I was stupid. “You have contacts in London, don’t you?” I pressed on.

He inclined his head, eyes narrowing before he answered, “I do. Trouble with the Infernal Court?”

“I need to pay Bain a surprise visit. His club is open twenty-four hours. It would be useful to know when he visits.” Now my cards were on the table. Durant could just as easily decide to betray me as help me, especially since he knew about the death mark on my head. I couldn’t nip directly into another court without an invitation, but I could walk through the front doors. I just needed to be prepared.

The vampire blew a slow stream of air out, blinking a few times as he processed this request. “London is tricky. I…shall we say…don’t get along with the Rousseaux brother who oversees vampire-fae relationships there.”

“You? But you’re so charming.” I took another drink, the whiskey blazing a trail of fire down my throat. It felt good after settling for Fiona’s wine. But I could feel the grip on my magic both loosen and fumble, like fingers frozen from the cold. Still there but increasingly worthless. Soon I’d be cut off from it entirely.

“I can get information, but it will cost you,” he warned me.

“I’m willing to pay.” I reached slowly into my pocket. Durant tensed as I produced a slip of paper. I held it up like a white flag. “I also need some weapons.”

He swiped it from me, letting out a low whistle as he skimmed the list. “What did Bain do to bring war to his doorstep?”

It wasn’t like him to care about the particulars.

“You aren’t growing a conscience, are you?” The less Durant knew, the better. He might choose to help me, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t help the next person who came along asking for information, too.