Boundary Crossed (Boundary Magic #1)(53)

Quinn shrugged and started the car. “If he does, we’re not going to find out tonight,” he said pragmatically.

“Denver next?” I asked.

“Denver next.”





Chapter 23



Boulder is only about thirty miles northwest of Colorado’s capital and biggest city, and in perfect traffic you can make it there in forty minutes. But since plenty of people work in Boulder but live in the much less expensive Denver area, there were a lot of commuters. The traffic was far from perfect by the time we began the trek south.

Quinn called Itachi on the way and got an address for Nolan. When he hung up, I asked, “Did he tell you anything else about the guy?”

He shook his head. “Not really. I’ve heard a little about him, though. He was a big player during the purge.”

“I don’t know what that means,” I said irritably. I was getting really tired of playing catch-up. Every time I thought I had a decent grasp of the Old World, someone started talking in made-up terms.

Quinn tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, his face expressionless as ever. Finally, he said, “Remember I told you there are no werewolves in Colorado?”

“When I was in the hospital, yeah.”

“Well, this whole state used to be werewolf paradise, with a pack in most of the bigger cities. Then one of the alphas, Trask, decided to take over all the packs.” Quinn eyed me. “You ever met a wild dog? Or a pack of wild dogs?”

Some unpleasant images from Iraq flashed in my head before I could push them aside. “Unfortunately.”

“Trask turned his people into that, or gave it his best shot, anyway.” Quinn’s voice was perfectly level, his voice betraying no emotion at all. He might as well have been describing the history of deforestation. “Of course, a few of the wolves tried to stand up to Trask. He killed them, too.”

I stared at him. “Someone had to have noticed.”

Quinn lifted a disinterested shoulder. “They did, but the Old World is like the Wild West. You stake your claim on a patch of land, and you do your best to defend it. As long as Trask wasn’t drawing enough attention to alert the foundings to our presence, no one wanted to challenge him. He was too strong.”

“Someone must have stepped in,” I objected. I didn’t like bullies, and I really didn’t like the kind that got away with killing people.

“The witches did—sort of,” Quinn confirmed. “When Trask was on his rampage, three of Colorado’s big clans got caught in the crossfire. One of their leaders decided something had to be done.”

“Hazel,” I whispered.

Quinn nodded. “Hazel went to the oldest, most powerful vampire in the United States, and she begged for help.”

“Itachi?”

A brief, amused smile graced Quinn’s face. “Maven is the one with the serious power. Hazel went to her.” It was the most unguarded thing he’d said yet, and I saw him glance over at me, unsure if he’d overstepped. I made my face neutral. “Anyway. There’s a whole long story, but basically the witches cut a deal: if Maven killed Trask and forced all the werewolves out of the state, Hazel and her clans would swear total loyalty to the vampires for a period of twenty years.”

I remembered the way Hazel had reacted when Simon explained that Maven wanted me trained. “And Maven really did it.”

“Yes,” Quinn said. “This was thirteen years ago, before my time. All I really know is that she summoned every vampire who’d sworn troth to her—and believe me, the girl’s lived long enough to collect quite a few allies. She promised them a place in her new enclave if they fought for her. Itachi became her second-in-command, and he called in all of his vampires, too, including Nolan.”

“Jesus, it sounds like a war,” I said in awe. “How the hell did they keep it quiet?”

Quinn shrugged. “Like I said, it was before my time, but Maven’s been covering up murders for hundreds of years. Anyway, when it was over, most of the regular vampires who helped ended up in Denver or Colorado Springs, including Nolan.”

I considered that for a few minutes. Something about the dynamic between Maven and Itachi felt off to me, and I said so.

“Maven . . . doesn’t want to lead,” Quinn explained after a moment’s hesitation. “I’m not sure why, exactly. Something to do with her history. She has serious power, but no interest in being in charge of a territory. Itachi, on the other hand, doesn’t have as much juice, but he’s plenty ambitious. So he leads and she kind of . . .”

“Acts as his muscle?” I suggested.

He smiled. “Something like that.”

I thought that over for a few minutes. I couldn’t really see Maven, the teenaged bag lady with the orange hair, as the equivalent of a four-star general. Then again, she had seemed much more powerful than any of the other vampires I’d met. “How old is Maven?” I wondered aloud.

“I’m not really sure,” he admitted. “But from things she’s said, I’d guess Middle Ages.” His expression turned grave, and I got the message: don’t piss her off.

I would sure as hell try.



We headed into southwestern Denver, and a little over an hour after we left Boulder, Quinn pulled into the parking lot of a swanky condo building in the Cherry Creek neighborhood. It was a mostly residential area, with lots of cul-de-sacs and big single-family houses that probably cost more than I’d earn in two lifetimes at the Flatiron Depot. Nolan lived in a lone condo park in which six or seven buildings were clustered around a small central area, where there was probably a pool and a walking path. We circled the enormous square parking lot a few times until we found a sign for units 8 to 12.