Page 6 of Hidden

Her smile showed fang. “It’s a specialty item. When it comes to fae, it pays to get the best protection.”

He took the jar from her hand. When he unscrewed the lid, his nose wrinkled at the medicinal scent. The green paste inside was half-gone and crusty around the edges.

“It’s still fresh,” she said, as if sensing his hesitation. “I keep a ready supply for work.”

That made sense. Izetta was a busy freelancer. One vampire king or another hired her to be his blade in the dark when diplomacy became inconvenient.

Rafe cast her a curious look. “Are you hunting fae that often?”

“Dark fae play dirty.” She gave an impatient flick of her hand. “Are you going to stare at the ointment or use it?”

Reluctantly, he dipped a finger into the jar. Years ago, he’d worn contact lenses as part of a disguise. He’d hated touching his eyes then, and he didn’t like it now. Bracing himself, he smeared the paste above his lower lids before he could change his mind. Instantly, his eyes stung as if he’d rubbed them with acid. Tears blinded him. “Fido’s balls!”

Izetta plucked the jar from his hand. “Don’t rub. That will only make it worse.”

Rafe blinked furiously. His vision was gradually clearing, but the heat had spread into his sinuses. He sneezed, then sneezed again. It felt like his entire skull was on fire.

But the damned stuff worked. Now he could see the mansion’s roofline at the top of the rise, black against the stars. The ointment apparently worked on other senses, too. He could smell fae, including the female he’d seen earlier. Anticipation shivered over his skin.

“This way,” he said, setting off toward their quarry.

Izetta followed, quiet as a phantom as they ascended the side of the valley, following the same path he’d taken before. This time, though, he could see his destination and choose the best approach. The terraced yard had a pool and hot tub that overlooked a moonlit lake and rolling hills. Everything said elegance and hard cash.

“Who says crime doesn’t pay?” he muttered under his breath.

“We’ll see about that.” Izetta replied, her soft drawl deceptively sweet. “What does your doggy nose tell you?”

“The scents are all new,” Rafe replied. “It’s as if the construction crew just left.”

“Residents?”

“Fae passed through the garden. Hard to tell how many.” He sniffed again. “Not much foot traffic in the last day or so.”

She gave a slow nod. “Almost as if they’re expecting trouble.”

Rafe swore under his breath. Whoever had built the mansion had chosen the location well. To the north, the woods were so dense a squirrel would need a machete. The west side faced onto the lake. The east lawn led to a sheer drop. That left the southern approach Rafe and Izetta had taken from the valley. The place was easy to defend.

Rafe glanced over his shoulder. The winding path they had climbed to get near the building was too narrow for most vehicles. “How the hell did they get equipment up here to build?”

“Magic? It’s way easier than getting contractors to arrive on time.”

Rafe didn’t comment. Instead, he crept forward, the cold air seeping in through his open jacket. He approached the south wall of the house, pausing at the edge of the trees. There was a faint light—a candle, maybe—moving in one of the upstairs windows. A place like this was sure to have electricity, so someone was avoiding company.

A second later, Izetta joined him. “What now?”

“We get closer.”

Keeping to the deepest shadows, they crossed the lawn. Rafe reached the house first and crouched beneath the low sill of an oversized window. Izetta knelt beside him.

Had they been seen? He counted to ten, listening for footfalls or the whisper of a weapon leaving its holster. When nothing came, he raised himself enough to peer through the gap beneath the lowered window blind. It was dark inside, but shifters had excellent night vision.

The decor was completely white. Clearly, no one here ate pizza without a napkin.

“Fae,” he whispered with a sneer. For a moment he regretted not bringing some tech toys—long-distance listening equipment, for a start—but then dismissed the notion. Magic raised merry hell with technology. “There’s got to be a way in.”

Rafe skirted to the right, the vampire on his heels. As they passed the next window, Rafe glanced inside. The room looked perfectly ordinary, if expensive and maniacally clean. White marble tile added to the Arctic color scheme. Across the room, a stainless-steel sink and backsplash glimmered in the ambient moonlight.

Rafe stopped, pulled out his pocketknife, and wiggled it into the space between the window sill and sash.

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