Page 208 of Golden Eagle

“Hey, I may be an idiot, but I’m not heartless. This is my city, too; these jokers are killing my New Yorkers.” He offered a lazy grin, and aimed for teasing, but Trina detected a note of real hurt in his voice.

“I know you’re not heartless,” she said, softly. “And you’re not an idiot either.”

He lifted his brows.

“I mean, sometimes, you do idiot things.” A smile tugged at her mouth. “But you’re mostly a good egg.”

His grin eased into something truer. “I try.”

“When you’re not entering illegal cage matches.”

“That was totally Alexei’s idea.”

“Sure, blame the prince.”

They smiled at one another, the rain drumming overhead, hissing through the gutters.

“Our lives are weird,” Lanny said.

“Truethat.”

~*~

“There’s a mage at my kitchen table,” Colette said, her movements quick and precise – agitated in a controlled way – as she pulled down a tumbler from above the sink, poured a few fingers of red wine, and then topped it off with the heated pig’s blood she’d just taken out of the microwave. She spilled a drop down the edge of the glass, and she caught with a fingertip and sucked it off; even that looked agitated.

Nikita couldsmellthe anger on her; she hadn’t looked directly at him since she’d come up from below, during a lull in customers.

He glanced over his shoulder, quickly, and stole a glimpse at Severin, sitting mannequin-stiff at the table, still, pale hands folded together on the wood. Every time Nikita looked at him, he was shocked all over again by how young he was. Just a freckled boy, expression faintly puzzled, removed from everything he’d ever known…and with the power to burn this whole block to the ground in a matter of minutes.

He shuddered and turned back to Colette – to her clenched-jaw profile, as she took a long swallow of blood-laced wine. “I know.” He kept his voice low. “And believe me, I’m not thrilled about it either. But he came to us – heescapedthat place, and he wants to help us. Or for us to help him. I didn’t know what else to do.”

Her eyes cut toward him, finally, her gaze unimpressed. “That’s not even a little bit true.”

He sighed.

“You hate mages,” she said. “Why the hell would you care that this one wanted your help?”

“Because things are different. Things are changing.” And once he’d said it, he knew it was true; the truth Will Scarlet had wanted him to see.

He and Sasha had encountered other immortals on their wandering – he’d killed a fair number of the vampires they’d met, the ones he’d found preying on humans with the intent to kill. There had been one, especially, with a penchant for children…

But that had been happenstance. Coincidence. There were immortals in the world, and sometimes they brushed up against one another; some formed alliances, even small packs; but mostly they kept clear of each other, vampires prickly as cats, not wanting to share Familiars or territory.

But the past year had brought a shift, one he could no longer chalk up to chance. Vlad Tepes was awake; Valerian was escaped. The Institute was flexing its muscle in an unprecedented way. Fools like Gustav were trying to make real grabs for power. There were child mages bred in labs, and heroes of myth foretelling war. It all held the stink of prophecy; of an inevitable, monolithic purpose, one that would reel them all in without apology.

He’d resisted to start.

Because he resisted everything.

Whatever his face was doing, it caused Colette to slowly lower her tumbler, and turn to face him fully, one hand braced on the countertop. “Nik?” It was prompt and question both, her brows drawing together, frown tugging at her lips.

“You told me to mind my own business,” he said, “and I really did try. That’s what I wanted to do. But. There are things happening that I can’t ignore.”

“You could leave the city. Go somewhere safe–”

“Where’s that?”

She shrugged. “Anywhere people don’t want to kill you.” He started to respond, but she cut him off. “You’re the one who’s always telling me you’re done fighting because someone else wants you to. You were gonna look out foryou.” She poked him lightly in the chest with one forefinger, its nail painted bright yellow. “You and your boy.”

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