“Which one is Solomon?”
“Master of Istanbul. You probably met him at your fancy meeting.”
Which one at the convocation had he been? It didn’t matter. We could chalk him up to Roman’s side, now.
“Cormac, maybe you’d better wait here,” I said.
“I’ll be fine. They won’t know I’m there.”
I believed him. “Just stay back behind the others.”
“Here, take this with you.” He offered me a slender dagger tucked in a black leather sheathe. If I pulled the knife out, looked at it, the metal would wink, edged with silver.
I shook my head. “I don’t need that.”
“It’ll give you authority,” he said.
“I don’t need it. I don’t want to take a chance of having it used against me.”
“It’ll make me feel better,” he said.
“No.” I glared and walked away.
“Don’t take it personally,” Ben said to him.
“You want it?”
“Hell, no. I’m likely to trip and cut myself on it.”
Cormac standing guard with his silver daggers should have made me feel better. But I had this sneaking worry that he was right, and that we would need the weapons.
I’d learned to carry myself with a straight back, my chin up. To move as if I was powerful, no matter what I felt. A far cry from the old days, my earliest time as a werewolf when I cowered at every stray noise or cold glance. A far cry from before I became a werewolf even, when I was a pampered college kid willing to go along with whatever flow was carrying me. I wondered sometimes—if I’d been stronger then, would it have prevented any of what came after from happening?
I had to work to show any confidence here, on a street with no lights, with blackened and broken windows staring down on me, where the air smelled unfamiliar and a distant shattering of glass distracted me. Ben walked at my side, unflinching, and I couldn’t tell if he was faking it, too. Cormac was, as he had indicated, out of sight. Surveying from a secure location, an ace in the hole.
Caleb’s enforcer followed us, and he ducked his gaze when I looked at him.
“There he is,” Caleb said, nodding ahead. I turned my nose to the air, smelling. Our quarry didn’t just smell of wolf; he carried a trace of his Master’s scent with him, too. “You want to do this or should I?”
Ben’s fists clenched, and he tensed, ready to pounce. They all expected this to turn out badly, didn’t they?
“I’ll do it,” I said evenly. This was my idea, right?
“What about me?” Ben said.
I squeezed his hand. “Stay close.”
“Kitty. Be careful.”
I moved ahead. The others fanned out in a protective arc behind me. I could hear their steps on the asphalt, even the soft hush of their breathing. We were a pack on the hunt.
A figure darted ahead of us, crossing the street. A second one prowled in the shadows of the row houses, looking like he wanted to try to flank us. We were in the wide open; we’d see anyone trying to get the best of us. The guards probably hadn’t been expecting a frontal assault.
“Hey!” I called. “I just want to talk!” My voice echoed along the empty street as if we were in a cave. Even the clouds hung low, ceiling-like.
“Talk. To say what?” The one moved from the shadows, coming to face me in the middle of the street. He kept glancing over his shoulders, probably looking for the inevitable ambush. He was powerfully built, broad shoulders, defined muscles along his arms, visible under short sleeves. He showed teeth when he scowled.
“Calm down. I really do just want to talk.”