Black Truth, White Lies (Black Hat Bureau 3)

More blood.

Just more.

Of everything. Of anything. Of all of it.

“Rue,” Asa breathed my name into my ear. “Don’t borrow trouble.”

Jerking back, I wiped away those dark thoughts. “Why do you say that?”

“You’re chewing on your bottom lip.” He bent down, kissed me gently. “You’re bleeding.”

The taste of copper lingered on my tongue. “Are you a vampire now?”

“I’m going to stop this right here.” Clay forced us apart. “If he wants to suck your blood, or anything else, I don’t want to know about it.” He planted a hand on each of our shoulders, spun us around, and shoved us forward. “March.”

Hand sliding down to the pocket where I kept my wand, I toyed with its grip, ready to draw.

We passed the hiding place where the rescuers had asked us to deposit the dobhar-chú pups.

For better or worse, the cage—and the pups—were gone.

It wasn’t much of a reassurance to pass on to Colby, but it would have to do.

As we approached the welcome center, we lost our earlier playfulness and settled into work mode.

Clay took point, as usual, and I fell in the middle. Asa brought up the rear.

When we reached the spot where the daemon leapt the railing the night before, I couldn’t help flicking a glance toward where we suspected a cell of some type concealed the true purpose for this sanctuary.

That was when I spotted her, and a spark of admiration for her dramatic flair kindled in me.

Delma stood on the back of a tortoise that might have been natural but was, most likely, fae. It sliced through the water, careful to avoid the area that had drawn my eye, and that, in itself, didn’t bode well.

“Rue,” she greeted, all smiles. “I’m so pleased you could join me.”

“I’m always on the hunt for the best natural ingredients to use in the products in my shop.” I picked at the thick green moss coating the handrail. “Thanks for the tip on a potential supplier.”

“You’re funny.” She didn’t mean it. I could tell. “That must be why Aedan likes you so much.”

“Well, that, and I’m not attempting to murder him.” I shrugged. “It’s the little things, you know?”

“Hasn’t Astaroth illuminated his potential mate on the finer points of succession?”

“From what I can tell, he schedules challenges ahead of time, allowing anyone who regrets their life choices to change their mind and skip town. There’s also the tiny fact that he doesn’t go around killing people for funsies, which seems to be a hobby of yours.”

“He could abdicate,” she offered. “Then the high king could seed another heir.”

The impersonal expression of seed another heir raised my hackles. Asa would never encourage his father to reproduce, and it had nothing to do with losing his inheritance. Asa would fight to his last breath to prevent another woman from suffering the same fate as his mother. I would too, to avoid another child being born with a question mark hanging over their head.

His mother loved him, but she had twisted him, however unintentionally it was done.

It wasn’t her fault, none of it, but it wasn’t Asa’s either.

“No,” he said simply, and this time he did not make himself less.

“You’re right.” She chuckled. “Your father has firm opinions on how many heirs ought to exist at once.”

From what I had pieced together, his father erased all traces of his failed heir before he seeded the next. He was so determined to start from scratch, he had one living child at any given time. That child must die before he began the process all over again.