He filled two glasses and offered both to them. Clare accepted without question. Anselm followed suit, but he sniffed the drink first. He’d heard of vampires spicing their bloodbags by feeding victims a particular beverage or food that would eventually reach the bloodstream and didn’t want to experience that.

  Interestingly, a handful of rich and influential people in Summerland claimed to hold rare bottles of scotch and refused to state how they’d obtained them. The bottles and casks were assumed to have survived the Curtain falling, but Aldonado’s claims shed doubt on theirs.

  Clare tapped her glass against Anselm’s and eagerly sipped. He followed suit after he didn’t pick up on any poisons or drugs mixed into the potent liquor.

  It was overpowering and stronger than he liked. He missed the scents and flavors, proving the drink was worth the fifteen-million-credit price tag the bottles commanded.

  He wasn’t an expert, but he felt like the stuff was wasted on him.

  “I am glad to see you alive,” Aldonado remarked once they partook of his offering. “All things considered, I am surprised you pulled away from those who wanted you dead, and I am glad the myths about adjudicators proved to be true.”

  Rody’s eyebrows shot up at the revelation, and Clare looked confused.

  Anselm felt the vampire’s gaze bearing down on him. All he could do was not flinch or back away. Instead, he sipped the drink and tried to taste something other than alcohol.

  “This would be where you tell us why you sent Rody to help us. Thanks for that, by the way.” Anselm was perfectly polite. Clare couldn’t claim otherwise. “I’m sorry if that’s blunt, but we’re not in the most trusting mood.”

  “Yes, one of your embeds turning on you will do that.”

  He was impressed the vamp knew.

  “It amuses me that the NAC thought they could press their collection of embeds, safehouses, and other instruments of subterfuge on the ground without us knowing about it.” Aldonado shook his head. “It’s like you forget many of us were centuries old before the Curtain came down.”

  “I’m not surprised that you know.” Anselm finished his drink and fiddled with his glass. “I wouldn’t be surprised to find a significant overlap between our embeds and your networks.”

  The vampire smiled. “I like you. Too young to be interesting, but still.”

  “Thanks. I guess.”

  Clare nudged his arm. “He likes you.”

  “Shut up.”

  “Don’t misunderstand, Ms. Voyhent. Weres like your family are a potent force with their loyalties and ferocities. You can’t imagine the headache that comes from trying to embed agents in a pack.” Aldonado poured himself a glass of something like blood. Chilled and mixed with spices, from what Anselm could smell. “Nobody schemes like a vampire, though. Live through three or four global conflicts, and you have little else to do but scheme.”

  “That’s informative.” Clare seemed to struggle to restrain herself. “You haven’t told us why you’ve brought us here.”

  “And I won’t.” Aldonado smiled sweetly. “Know only that I have skin in this particular game. I have no intention of standing idly on the sidelines, as much as I must make appearances of doing so.”

  Interesting. Anselm didn’t jump to any of the obvious conclusions implied, but it was clear that a bigger game was being played. Much bigger than either of them could have guessed.

  He’d never been one for politics. If the vamps had a bone to pick with the NAC, they could do it without catching him and Clare in the middle.

  “Clare needs to reach Summerland in one piece and in full possession of her faculties.” Anselm placed his empty glass on a nearby white marble table. “That’s the extent of my knowledge, and it’s what I’m going to do. Or die trying. The question is if you’ll help us.”

  “I’ve already helped you. Well, Roderick has, but who’s counting?” Aldonado pointed at Anselm’s glass, and Rody jumped to it, pouring more scotch. “I am limited in what I can do personally, although Roderick’s services remain at your disposal. He owes a certain debt to Clare, which I intend to work him through.”

  Rody merely bowed his head in agreement.

  “If we’re going up to Summerland, we need to know who’s been trying to kill us,” Clare interjected. She hadn’t drunk any more of her scotch. “Won’t do us any good to hop on another shuttle if it crashes like the last one.”

  “An excellent point. I might be able to get you the information you need without implicitly involving myself.”

  “Won’t Rody’s involvement point to you?” Anselm raised an eyebrow.

  “Not directly. As I said, the boy owes Ms. Voyhent a debt. I am simply allowing him to work it off.” Aldonado settled on a comfortable plush chair, white like the décor. “Finding the embed who betrayed you seems like the first step in your investigation, which I am happy to help you with.”

  Anselm sighed and crossed his arms. “I assume you’ll want us to report anything we discover along the way to you?”

  “Rody will do that. I only ask that you not withhold anything from him.” Aldonado tented his fingers over his knee. “Information is what a simple diplomat like me needs to be effective. Between an adjudicator and a human with many hidden talents like Ms. Voyhent, I foresee a great deal of profit in this endeavor. Don’t think I am doing this out of the kindness of my heart.”

  “Perish the thought.”

  Clare rubbed her chin. “We have a deal, then? You help us get back to Summerland, and we provide you with the intel we run into on the way?”

  “Indeed, we do. Roderick can escort you to your home. Senior Adjudicator, are you staying with Ms. Voyhent, or will you require a separate transport?”

  Anselm frowned. He couldn’t help feeling he was shaking hands with a spider whose web he couldn’t see. Yet they didn’t have a choice in the matter. Not if they wanted to return to Summerland before the century’s end.

  “I’m here to protect Clare. With my life, if needed. She won’t be leaving my sight.”

  “As you wish.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Anselm wasn’t happy about how the meeting went, and Clare agreed with him. An old book said free favors always proved the most expensive over time.

  The adjudicator said they didn’t have a choice but to trust the vampire. Once again, Clare agreed. They had to start their investigation somewhere. Until her contacts, which were few and far between, reported back, they needed help.

  The longer they were on the ground, the more likely someone would track them down and kill them.

  Neither of them was happy about being left in the dark for an entire day. Anselm didn’t mean she wouldn’t be literally leaving his sight. She was safe in her home with the pack around her.

  He was still in the building. Removed from her personal sanctum, but between her and the only entrance in or out.

  Clare hadn’t expected to hear from the vampires for a while longer. She was surprised to find Rody at their door the next night, dressed for combat.

  “Your treacherous embed was found,” were his first words as he came through the door. “She hasn’t put much effort into hiding. She has gone about her work, business as usual. She’s a delivery driver for a large market chain in the area, and she uses that job as a means to sell a variety of illegal and hard-to-come-by goods. Not to mention providing transportation for the various drug cartels in the city. It seems she’s in the mood to make as much money as she can while she’s in the city.”

  “Does she plan on leaving?” Anselm asked as he watched the footage on the linked device the vamp produced.

  “Tickets to Nor Astro, Keldin, and Wester, all in the coming days. We’re not sure which she plans on taking, and that’s the plan. If you want to hit her, it’ll have to be now.”

  “She’s rabbiting.” Clare crossed her arms. “How fast can we get to her?”

  “She has transport and a good grasp of the city’s maps. It’ll have to be soon and in a way that traps her.” Rody shrugged. “I doubt I would be able to keep up with someone who knows the Warrens that well.”

  Anselm nodded. “She’ll be expecting me. The moment she sees me, she’ll run. If we can plot out the way she’ll run, we can herd her in. Clare can come up with something to stop her, and we’ll get answers from her.”

  She studied him. “People in New Houston won’t open up like a fountain of words when you cock your eyebrow. They’re not like the people up there.”

  “I’ll take my chances. Can you conjure up something that’ll stop her vehicle and allow us to catch her?”

  Clare chortled. “I already have something that’ll stop all that, plus prevent her from communicating with anyone who might be helping her. You’re confident you can crack her?”

  “I am. If I can’t, we have two equally tough members of the New Houston community here to take over in the event of my failure. Is that good enough for you?”

  “Fuck off.” She smirked and rolled her neck. “Are we doing this thing or what?”

  “Gather your gear,” Rody answered. “We’ll leave as soon as you’re ready.”

  She was quick to prepare for leaving. Something about the way she moved told him she’d had the device they needed for a while and had been aching to put it to good use.

  To catch the embed, they needed her distracted and thinking about what was coming behind her. Which meant she needed to spot Anselm first. The sight of him would be enough to send her running. Rody would herd her in since he was the only one who could keep up with her machine and funnel her into Clare’s trap.

  Not the most refined plan. They’d only had a couple of hours to come up with it. On the bright side, it allowed for adaptation and improvisation if and when something went wrong.

  Anselm settled into a small roadside restaurant, a food truck with plastic chairs and tables in front, as a cover while they waited.

  “Delivery in three minutes.” Rody dropped into the seat across from him. “The sniffers are particular about when they want their deliveries made since their shop is on a Guardian patrol route.”

  Anselm ate the steaming hot food piled onto a foam plate. Maybe he’d been on the ground too long because the food and coffee appealed. He wasn’t sure what meat he was eating, and the state of the fried potatoes, carrots, and broccoli was questionable, considering how drenched in grease and spices they were. The only part close to what he expected was the rice.

  Yet the food had a comforting quality. It wasn’t as health-conscious as the fare he was used to, but he understood why folks flocked to the truck for their midday meal.

  “You’d think they would set up somewhere else.” Rody chattered like he hadn’t noticed Anselm neglecting to answer his first statement. “Guardians are easy to bribe, but it’s much simpler to avoid them. They only patrol in force closer to the city center, or wherever they’re paid to.”

  “Nervous?” Anselm cocked an eyebrow and ate another bite. Damn good.

  “Why would I be?”

  “I have no idea. Your babbling tells me you’re nervous, though. Why would you be anxious about picking up a human after you charged right into a battle with mercs and feral vamps not that long ago?”

  Rody scowled. “Things are different in the city. One wrong move, and you piss the wrong people off, then get killed for your efforts.”

  “Right.” Anselm sighed. The crowded street slowed the embed’s delivery car, but she was right on time like the vamp said she would be. “My seven. On her way.”

  “Your what?”

  “Seven o’clock.” He indicated back with his head for the vamp to see.

  “What’s the time supposed to mean?” Rody had seen the car but kept the conversation going.

  “Old clocks have time set up in a circle. The hour positioning on the watch face can be used to indicate where something or someone is without pointing. For example, if I said that our target is at my five, six, seven o’clock.” He continued gesturing with his head across the three positions to give the vamp context.

  “Huh. Never heard it like that. You could have said she was behind you.”

  A good point, but it was a force of habit. If the woman was directly at his back, he would have said she was at his six and assumed the vamp knew what he meant.

  “There might be a problem.”

  Anselm didn’t bother turning. He saw what was happening behind him through the window reflections from the buildings in front of them, but he didn’t see any problems.

  “What’s the problem?” He sipped from his coffee mug and remained relaxed. He didn’t look like a local, but not everyone did around these parts. Someone from the next town over enjoying a meal wasn’t rare enough to distract people. That was what he told himself, anyway.

  “Looks like our target’s got muscle backing her up.” Rody looked away too quickly. If Anselm had been the one on the lookout for anything suspicious, he would have picked up on Rody’s nervousness the moment he set foot on the street.

  It didn’t take long for the vamp to be proven right. A pair of weres stepped around the corner, eyes on the embed as she pulled up outside the sniffer’s base of operations hidden inside a small grocery store. If Anselm stood out like a sore thumb, the two Maneaters were even easier to spot. They hadn’t changed their appearance and looked like they’d driven in from the desert.

  They were clearly with the embed. Yet from the way she spotted them and offered a subtle nod, they weren’t there on the same task he and Rody were.

  “Shit.” Anselm closed his eyes and drew a deep breath to settle his nerves. He’d barely gotten away from his last encounter with the Maneaters. A crowded street would only make it more difficult.

  The vamp hadn’t mentioned their target walked around with cannibal were bodyguards. That seemed like something that should have been in an intelligence report.

  They had their window and no guarantee another would open up before their target left the city. From that point, she would be in the wind. If they didn’t get her now, she was likely lost for a while. Maybe months until she settled into her new spot. Assuming she ever did. Someone on the run from the Agency would stay on the move.

  “Do you want me to stick around and help deal with the Maneaters?” Rody asked.

  Anselm shook his head. “We need to herd the embed into Clare’s trap. The moment she sees me, she’ll run. You have to keep up with her. That means I deal with the Maneaters. If I can get them riled up, they won’t notice a vampire going after the embed.

  “Are you—”

  “No time to be sure. I’ll get the rabbit running and handle the weres. Make sure that traitor reaches Clare.” Anselm had his suspicions, though he knew he was possibly paranoid. Rody’s nervousness could mean he was double-crossing them and wasn’t used to it. He was a young vampire. Powerful though he was, he was prone to listening to his human urges.

  Aldonado had been another matter. There hadn’t been much to read in the elder’s body language, expressions, or words. It was like looking at a brick wall.

  He could delve deeper into the situation later. He finished the last dregs of his coffee and stood. Unlike when he’d sat, Anselm made a point of being noticed. He flicked his coat up and turned with enough flourish to catch the attention of anyone as jumpy and paranoid as the embed.

  A few solid seconds passed before she spotted the coat and associated it with the man she’d last seen wearing it. He almost made it down to the road before the look of recognition crossed her face. Her mouth opened, and she screamed, pointing at him as she scrambled to reach her vehicle.

  Took her fucking long enough. Anselm steadied himself and watched the Maneaters realize they were needed. They followed to where the embed pointed. They wouldn’t recognize him, but they noticed the pistol in his hand. Everyone knew what an adjudicator’s weapon looked like.

  Neither werewolf seemed concerned about the civilians around them. They’d already started their transformations. Rody was gone, leaving him to deal with the pair. If he was involved in a skirmish that ended with dead civilians, it would stick to his records.

  He needed to clear the area. Fast.

  “Blanks!” He raised his weapon in the air and squeezed the trigger. The blanks were louder than ordinary rounds, which meant more people heard them. There was also the benefit of no side casualties.

  He’d cleared the space for his attackers to charge at him. Saving lives was his job. Only part of it, and lately a small one, but he took it seriously.

  “How long do I have to wait?” Anselm called. “Don’t have all day for you bitches to change into a form you’d prefer to fight in.”

  Weres didn’t like being called bitches, and Maneaters carried that rage to another level. They were halfway through their transformation before Anselm managed a clean shot at them. They’d split up and charged at him from across the street.

  “Shit.”

  People screamed and threw themselves out of the way. Between the shooting and the roaring weres, they didn’t know which way to run.

  The time for waiting was over.

  Anselm brought his pistol up as one creature reached him. He twisted and dove out of the way. Without his visor, it was impossible to get a decent shot as the weres jumped onto nearby buildings, vehicles, and anything they could land on.

  They must have fought people trying to shoot them before or been trained by those who had.

  Anselm fell back and rolled when the second creature rushed him from the side. His knife was in hand, laced with enough silver to level the were with a deep stab.

  The best he could manage was a slice across the creature’s side as its claws hammered into his chest. Any other person would have had their ribcage exposed and their internal organs put on display. His body armor saved him from that gruesome fate, but the force behind the strike drove him into a nearby street vendor, which knocked the knife from his hand.