Page 46 of Hidden

“I thought you wanted no part of the hunt for the Magician,” Izetta put in, more to needle him than anything else. “What changed?”

Malatest cast her a resentful look, then reached into the pocket of his long coat. He drew out a long chain studded with freshwater pearls. He held it up, the ornate chain softly glinting as it swung from his hand. The last time Izetta had seen the necklace, it had been around Sadie’s neck. Her stomach sank as she remembered the girl lingering in Malatest’s office. Malatest kissing her. The insouciant swing of her hips as she slipped out his door.

“She proved more curious than smart,” the vampire king said, his face like stone.

Errata’s breath caught. “What happened?”

He held the chain higher, twisting it so that the light from the bare bulb in the ceiling caught the links. “I’ve heard two different stories in the last hour. I’ll hear a dozen more by morning.”

“Malatest?” Izetta asked softly.

“After Sadie left my office, she went out with friends. I had her followed. There was still a chance we could catch the Magician alone, remove him quietly from this world, but he was nowhere in sight.” He cleared his throat. “She went to a dance club frequented by a mixed supernatural crowd. That much everyone agrees on.”

“What don’t they agree on?” Izetta asked.

Malatest’s mouth twisted, as if what he was about to say tasted bad. “Some say she met the Magician and fell under his spell. She went mad for love and walked into the rising sun.”

Devries made a sound of disbelief. “That’s a storybook tale.”

The vampire king raised a brow. “Every story involving the fae is a thinly disguised horror tale.”

“What really happened?” Izetta asked.

“Sadie got bored and found someone selling bacchante. She was too fragile for the drug.” There was real grief in his voice.

Izetta’s chest twisted with compassion she didn’t want to feel. Malatest was easier to despise than to pity—but even Devries was nodding slowly.

“I’m sorry to hear of another loss,” the werewolf said, his tone formal. “Both our communities have paid a price. But what is bacchante?”

Malatest stuffed the necklace back in his pocket, his expression grim. “He’s killing our people with a substance masquerading as a drug. It might be magic or chemical or both, but he is the source.”

A mutter ran through the crowd of wolves. Izetta couldn’t help wondering which of the young ones already knew exactly what the rogue fae offered and yet hadn’t breathed a word of it to their sworn Alpha. Rebellion and recklessness were often twins.

“I need your soldiers,” Malatest repeated. Half the iron haughtiness in his voice was grief, but it still sounded like an ill-considered command.

“And what do the wolves need, leech?” The Alpha bristled, his sympathy forgotten. “What gives you the right to march into my den and make demands?”

An angry clamor rose. Izetta heard car doors slamming outside. If she guessed right, more vampires were arriving to back up their boss.

“Wait.” Errata stepped forward, slicing the air with her hand. Her dark hair swung as she looked from Devries to Malatest, quelling them with a fierce green glare. “Stop talking and listen. We all want the same thing.”

Izetta reached out to grab the cat’s sleeve, certain she’d lost her kitty mind. Provoking two of the most powerful supernaturals in town wasn’t a good survival plan. Devries opened his mouth to speak, but Errata held up her palm, stopping him mid-gape. Long claws sprouted from her fingertips as they watched. A gentle reminder she wasn’t just a helpless fluff they could bully.

At the sight of the claws, Izetta felt the situation slip out of her control. She stepped back, making herself wait and see how it would play out.

“Think this through.” Errata paced from one leader to the other and then back, her movements smooth and eerily quick. “We all want to stop the Magician and anyone helping him, and Rafe is being held captive. He deserves to be rescued. Those are easy goals if we don’t start off by fighting.”

“And you think lecturing us will help?” Devries demanded, finally finding his voice.

Errata stopped in front of him, poking his chest with a claw. “I’m trying to make you understand you have a common interest.”

“Why?”

“I’m neither vampire nor wolf,” she said, finally stopping to claim the center of the room. “I favor neither side, and I know the laws and pacts that rule among all our kinds.”

“Good for you,” Malatest retorted. “How does that matter?”

“You’re both waiting for the other to commit to an invasion of the way station.”

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