Page 6 of The Death God
“What I was trying to say—” Rufus waited until Gregory had swallowed his third piece of cake and nodded for him to continue.
“Alaric Quin reached out.”
“Reached out? How the fuck could he reach out?” Gregory’s heart sped up a fraction. Alaric Quin was the alpha of a werewolf pack a couple of hours’ drive away from here. They might have done a job or two in his territory, but Rufus and he had stuck to human killings since they moved here, so it shouldn’t have upset the peace.
The peace between vampires and werewolves was always thin, but Gregory had always, if not liked Alaric, then at least respected him. Vampires cheated, went behind your back, sold you out, and indulged in petty power struggles behind a facade of sophistication. Werewolves issued a challenge and ripped your throat out. It was refreshing. If they disliked you, they told you to your face. Gregory appreciated that.
“I’m not sure how he got my number. I’m suspecting Silas since he’s the only one I know who knows how to contact me.”
“The fucker. We should’ve killed him.”
Rufus grimaced. “And gone back there? As coven leader?”
Gregory took a calming breath and cut another piece of carrot cake. Rufus hated everything coven-related, and Gregory didn’t blame him. Greedy bastards. And they never would’ve accepted the seers. No, it was better to let Silas deal with the coven so they could build a life here. “What did he want? Alaric, I mean?”
“They’re having a party, and they want us to attend.”
“What?” Vampires never attended werewolf parties. At least, Gregory didn’t think so.
“He was being cryptic, something about showing alliances.”
“Alliances?” Gregory wasn’t following. They’ve never had any alliances. They might not kill each other on sight, and yeah, the few times Gregory had seen Alaric in town, he’d greeted him and maybe exchanged a few pleasantries, but they’d never helped each other out. “Who’s threatening him?”
Rufus looked into his eyes. “You think someone is?”
“It’s the only logical reason I can see. Unless he wants us to kill someone, but then he could’ve hired us through different channels.” He was quiet for a few seconds. “You want me to go?”
Rufus never attended. He was Rufus the Dead, and it was hard to feed the rumor of being dead if you went to parties. Alaric knew he was alive thanks to fucking Silas, but…
“If it’s safe. I think he wants our help with something.”
“But why a party? Why not a simple meeting or a phone call?”
Rufus pursed his lips. “I don’t know. And you need a date.”
Gregory stared at him. “A date?”
“You can’t go there on your own. It’s a black-tie event.”
“What?” Gregory hadn’t meant to raise his voice, but werewolves didn’t do black-tie events. “What the fuck is going on? Is he taking a mate?”
There were matings and true matings. Finding your true mate was rare. Gregory didn’t know if there was only one true mate in the world or if there were a handful. Either way, there were a lot of people in the world and the chance of finding your one and only, or one of your few and only, was rare. Most matings weren’t true matings, but a werewolf would still rip you to threads if you harmed their mate.
“It’s possible. Maybe he’ll announce it. Still doesn’t explain why he’d want a vampire to attend.”
No, it didn’t. “I’ll go. If nothing else, it’s good to know what’s going on.” It was the pack closest to the castle, and having a good relationship with them could prove important.
“Who are you taking with you? Minerva?”
Gregory blinked at Rufus in confusion. “Alaric knows I’d never date a woman.”
Jaki snorted. “You don’t have to fuck your dinner date.”
Rufus turned to look at Jaki, and Gregory cut another piece of carrot cake.
“It might be good to sell a relationship, though.”
“Why?” Jaki put his phone on the table.
