Page 140 of Elven Shadow

“Protocol.” His blank expression never changed, and his voice had once more fallen into its flat monotone she’d heard him use with Aldous only too many times.

“Well, it’s good to see protocol’s still being followed,” she said with a mocking pout. “Even when you’re clearly unhappy with it.”

“I’m doing my job. And I’m here to request official orders from command as to what to do withthese.” For emphasis, Maxwell brusquely nudged the side of the box with the toe of his boot, scooting it closer to Rebecca’s chair.

Rebecca almost asked if he’d brought her a present.

The second she looked down into that open box, though, she realized what a stupid question that was.

Unless Maxwell was more like a cat than a canine and had come bearing gifts of his victim’s body parts.

Something told herthiswas also far more out of protocol than for her personally.

The box was filled to the brim with the all-black, glistening flesh of so many destroyed homunculus parts, which might have had a more visceral effect if there had been the same amount of blood as one might expect from a similarly dismembered corpse. If, of course, that corpse had beenalive.

She recognized the homunculus parts first, then noticed something else mixed into the box along with all that glistening black not-flesh.

Frowning, Rebecca leaned forward to get a better look.

The oddly shiny, round surface of a strangely circular shape wasn’t all that foreign to her, either.

It was Hector’s head.

Had Maxwell been preserving this just for her, thinking it would make her think twice about maintaining her new position? Or was he trying to send a message.

She would have asked until she caught sight of that strange, dark, circular mark on the top of Hector’s bald head.

The mark she’d first seen in the garage right after Maxwell had put him down and the nurúzhe’s hood fell back for the very first time to expose his face.

She’d written it off as some kind of tattoo then, but now that she was looking at the guy up close, she realized just how mistaken she’d been.

It wasn’t a tattoo at all. It was the same branded mark of a the Azyyt Ra’al thrall, just like the one she’d seen on the Cruorcian thug in that back alley on her last night off.

The kind of mark that only appeared in death.

The kind of proof—and now an unwanted reminder—that the Azyyt Ra’al had established some type of presence right here in Chicago.

Hector had clearly been one of their thralls, but there was no telling whether that had been because of Rebecca’s presence inside Shade or merely a coincidence.

Had Hector known who she was all along?

Had he created the homunculi to attack the compound on the Azyyt Ra’al’s orders, because they suspected Rebecca Bloodshadow was in Chicago too?

When Maxwell cleared his throat, the sound ripped Rebecca back into the present.

Right. He was here to swear his fealty to his new commander, and he wanted to know what to do with a bunch of homunculus parts and the body of the nurúzhe he’d taken out with his own hands. Literally.

Rebecca looked up at the shifter again, wondering if she should mention anything about the mark or her suspicions that this wasn’t simply a coincidence, but immediately wiped that thought from her mind.

Maxwell Hannigan might have been Aldous’s righthand man, personal bodyguard, and advisor, confidant, or whatever else, but that was just another luxury Rebecca simply couldn’t afford as commander.

Not when Maxwell already suspected her of…whatever he expected her of, though suspicion in and of itself wasn’t enough of a threat.

“I’m sorry,” she said, flashing him a quick smile before gesturing toward the box. “Are you bringing me offerings now?”

“I’m asking my Roth-Da’al what to do with these,” he growled, his silver eyes brightening as he glared down at her.

His Roth-Da’al.

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