Shadow's End (Elder Races, #9)(49)

“Melly says hi,” Julian said into the phone. “We’re about to go to bed.”

“Don’t be mean!” Melly exclaimed.

Graydon bit back a smile. In New York, it was only eight in the morning, which meant that in Lake Tahoe, it had just turned five. For most people, depending on their race and personal habits, it was either too early or too late to be calling, unless the reason was urgent.

“Are you in New York for next week’s masque?” Graydon asked. “Or are you coming?”

“No,” Julian replied. “I haven’t talked to Xavier for a couple of weeks, but I think he’s planning to attend as regent. I meant it when I said I’m taking a year off. Melly and I are at home.”

Graydon leaned back against the brick wall of a building so he could watch the street in both directions. “Sorry to interrupt your vacation.”

“What’s going on?”

“Do you remember the conversation you and I had a couple of months ago in San Francisco?” He ran one hand through his hair. The snow had already damped the ends. “We talked about a mutual acquaintance. You shared sensitive intel.”

Earlier, in the spring, Melly had been kidnapped by one of the Nightkind council, and her mother Tatiana, the Light Fae Queen, had asked Graydon for help in finding her. Julian had actually been the one who found Melly.

Afterward, he had shared with Graydon confidential information about Malphas. Names of victims. Dates. Graydon’s entire investigation had been prompted by that small, vital list.

“I’m not likely to forget.” Julian’s voice had gone very alert and crisp. “Have there been new developments?”

“Yes, significant ones.” Graydon paused as he watched an elderly male cross at the nearest intersection. When the male turned the corner and disappeared from sight, he said, “Do you want to have a say in what comes next?”

“You’re damn right I do,” Julian growled.

Graydon nodded, unsurprised. “Things may happen quickly. How soon can you get to New York?”

“I’ll be there by the end of the day,” Julian told him.

Melly said, “You’re not going without me.” Something rustled. Suddenly she sounded much closer and clearer than she had before, almost as if she had climbed into Julian’s lap. “While we’re on our way, you’re going to explain how this fits into your concept of ‘vacation.’”

Julian said, “That’s complicated.”

“It’s always complicated.” Melly sounded amused.

Julian said, “Graydon, I’ll call you when we’re in town.”

“Sounds good. Talk to you later.”

Once he had disconnected, he continued down the street. In Wembley on that last morning, he had said the war might be a very long one. But not even he had conceived of just how long it would be.

He had never lain in wait for so long, or hunted with such extreme care. His prey had never been quite as dangerous as it was now, nor had the stakes ever been quite as high.

The part of him that was a predator had to admit it felt good to take action, good to be moving toward some kind of resolution. Now that he had begun his play, events would escalate. The pace of the hunt would take on its own life.

Cloaking himself, he changed into the gryphon and launched into a short flight that took him into the heart of Manhattan. Circling down upon an exclusive boutique hotel, he changed back into the man and strode into the lobby.

His destination was a three-bedroom suite several flights up. He rapped on the door and waited.

There was the soft sound of muffled movement, then the door opened. The woman who answered it was human, rather tall, dressed in jeans and a black turtleneck, with an athletic build and blond, shoulder length hair.

She was around thirty-eight or forty, Graydon guessed, or at least she had been when she had become a Vampyre attendant. She was attractive in a clean, spare way, with the sharp, intelligent gaze of an experienced soldier.

“You must be Claudia Hunter,” he said.

The woman smiled. “I am, and of course you’re Graydon. It’s nice to finally meet you in person. Come on in.” Turning, she raised her voice. “Precious, our visitor has arrived.”

Noting with approval the businesslike Glock she wore in a holster at the waist of her jeans, Graydon followed her into the living room area of the suite just as another male unfolded his long body off the couch.

The male was Wyr and young, perhaps mid- to late-twenties, and he carried a canine scent. He had a kind of handsomeness that smoldered, with dark burnished skin, bitter chocolate eyes and rather overlong black hair.

He was also very large, easily as big as Graydon, and that was not something Graydon was used to running into very often.

“Luis Alvarez,” said the young Wyr, holding out one hand.

“Nice to meet you.” Graydon shook hands with him, grinning. “Your partner calls you ‘Precious’?”

Luis’s dark gaze cut over to Claudia, and his face changed. The difference was at once both subtle and, to Graydon’s experienced gaze, remarkably telling. Inwardly troubled, he kept his own expression neutral.

Luis said softly, “Inside joke. The first time Claudia and I met, I was injured and in my Wyr form. I couldn’t shift back into a human for a while.”