With his glass full, Rafe lounged in the booth, leaning in toward Nolan rather than away as he had been. His voice dipped. He was still loud enough to be easily heard, but low enough for his words to feel confidential.
“I think I’ve completely misunderstood your reasons for being here. You’ve got something helpful to say.”
Nolan’s eyebrows snapped together over his nose and he frowned down at Rafe. “Why did you think I was here?”
Rafe waved around the hand holding the glass, careful to not spill a drop. “No fucking clue. Figured you were here to rip my head off. Or maybe to tell me to turn the music down. Get off your lawn or something.”
Nolan continued to stare at him, and Rafe studiously ignored his rapidly beating heart as he took a sip of his drink. A second ticked by and then another before deep laughter rumbled up Nolan’s chest. Picking up his drink, he settled in the booth, his shoulder bumping Rafe’s.
“I like you. I’ll admit I was sure I’d hate everything about you, but I can’t. You’ve created a fantastic club where our kind can seek entertainment and a bite from a colorful buffet. You have excellent taste in alcohol. And you speak your mind.”
“Marcus would argue that the world could do without the last one,” Rafe muttered.
“Maybe so, but for now, it’s amusing.”
Oh, there was a hint of a warning in that remark. No missing that. The ice wasn’t thin, but it could be very quickly.
“So, what interesting thing have you come to tell me?”
Nolan lifted up just a little bit to look directly into Rafe’s eyes. Rafe held up his free hand and the one holding the drink. “I’m being as serious as I’ve ever been,” he said in an even voice, and it was the truth. He wanted to know the intentions of the MacPherson clan if at all possible.
With a small nod, Nolan settled back against the booth. “A war is coming.”
“The Ministry?”
“That’s part of it. There’s been a rumbling among some of the larger clans both in America and Europe. Change is needed, and the current Ministry is determined to stop it at all costs.”
“And do you know the major players nudging this change along?”
Nolan grunted. “A few.”
Rafe’s smile turned a little sly. “Would the MacPherson clan be among those nudgers?”
“No.” Nolan said nothing else for a few seconds as if letting the weight of that single word press down on Rafe’s brain. “We’re merely watching for now.”
“Watching for how the pieces land on the Go board.”
Nolan shifted like he was trying to see Rafe’s face. “Go board?”
Rafe inwardly winced. “Sorry. Old Chinese game. I forget that it’s not as popular as the US chess board,” he amended.
“Ahh…yes. Exactly.” Nolan took a drink of his whisky and moved a little closer to Rafe. “My concern is that a war is coming, and the clans will soon need to take sides. Form alliances. There’s no worry of the Variks siding with the Ministry after decades of disagreements, but I would hate for your clan to align itself with a poor choice when it comes to other clans.”
“Mmmm,” Rafe hummed. “We both know you’re not talking about the MacPherson clan, so I have to assume that you’ve…” he paused, searching for the right word for a second, “got concerns when it comes to the Arsenault clan.”
“Some.”
“Don’t approve of their leader?” Rafe prodded when it seemed like Nolan wasn’t going to offer up any more details.
“I’ve not personally spoken with Philippe Arsenault, but my sources say that he’s strong, intelligent, and quite resourceful. All great assets in a leader and a clan member.”
Nolan licked his lips. It was strange seeing him be cautious now when he hadn’t been particularly cautious up to this point. “My concern lies with some of his other clan members. I’ve heard rumors they are less than desirable if you’re looking for a strong ally.” He smiled over at Rafe. “A good clan is like a well-maintained garden. A farmer plants a variety of crops to serve his needs. He nurtures them and gives them what they need to be strong. And if pests and infestations should appear, they need to be weeded out. The Arsenault clan needs to be weeded before it can be considered a strong ally.”
The chill had returned to Rafe’s bones and he sat very, very still. Breath barely lifted his chest. He could only stare straight ahead as Nolan’s calmly spoken words sank into his brain.
The Arsenault clan needs to be weeded out.
Like the murder of a seventy-year-old woman who’d been made into a vampire and would never have been a strong fighter.
Like the murder of two children who’d been turned into vampires and would never be able to survive on their own.
Someone was weeding out the weak from the Arsenault clan. He just didn’t know if Nolan MacPherson had a direct hand in it or not.