14
A QUICK STOP at my apartment allowed me to wash off some of the dirt, sweat, and blood. I dug up an old T-shirt and changed into it while Trixie went to speak to the Hearth Women. I wasn’t fond of leaving her alone, but I knew she’d get more out of them if I wasn’t hovering close by.
Somewhat clean again, I jumped into my battered SUV, ready to head back toward Asylum. I looked up after shoving my key into the ignition and paused as my eyes caught on a trio of teenagers as they darted across the parking lot. One hesitated at the edge of a building and looked back at me with cold eyes before disappearing from sight with his companions. The trio reminded me of the Tower runaways that were loose in Low Town, struggling to stay hidden from the Towers and survive. Were they sticking together? Were they safe? Were they hurt? I didn’t know, but it was too dangerous to go looking for them. They were likely better off without my help.
With a groan, I turned the key, bringing the car to life with a guttural growl of the engine. I was up to my eyeballs in elf problems, Tower problems, and family problems. I didn’t have much hope of protecting five runaways. Besides, they had each other. They had to be in better shape than I was when I left the Towers nearly ten years ago. God, I hoped they were in better shape . . .
Shoving that errant thought aside, I drove to the Strausse Haus Restaurant and Bier Garden near Asylum. It was the first place I had met Reave and I figured that it was the best place to start looking for the Svartálfar. I was hoping that he was still in town if he was planning to pass along the rest of the information to Robert. After that, I was sure the little f*cker would be next to impossible to locate. He had to know that the Towers were searching for him and would be keeping his head down until he had gotten his payment. Though how he ever expected to live in peace after this was beyond my comprehension.
It was shortly after three when I arrived at the restaurant and their lunch rush was winding down.
The seating hostess smiled at me and picked up a menu as I walked in. “Hey, Gage. It’s been a while since you last stopped in.”
I smiled at her before continuing to scan the restaurant for my target. I had stopped going to the Strausse Haus when I discovered that it was one of Reave’s favorite haunts. It was bad enough that Bronx and I were forced to work for him; I didn’t want to eat somewhere that I might run into him as well.
“Is it just you for lunch?” she continued, trying to catch my attention.
“I’m not staying. I’m looking for someone,” I said, my gaze tripping over the faces I could see lining the bar just past the entrance.
“You know, I heard you were dating that Trixie person who works for you,” the hostess said, dragging my eyes back to her. “I should have known you’d go for someone like that.”
I chuckled, my smile stretching into something genuine for the first time. Lynnette was pretty in an exotic, dangerous sort of way, with almond-shaped brown eyes that she lined with black makeup, and dark brown hair. She had those big pouty lips that held all kinds of dirty promises. It was the kind of mouth that my friend Parker referred to as DSL—dick-sucking lips. But then, Parker was an incubus and I was sure that he was well acquainted with mouths like that. My thoughts stopped there, though. Lynnette was a siren and sirens were their own basket of troubles. Not to mention I was quite happy with Trixie.
“I’d watch it, Lynn. I’d hate for Trixie to find out that you’ve been saying bad things about her.”
Lynnette made a noise in the back of her throat as she rolled her eyes at me. “Like I’m scared of her.”
My grin never wavered. “And here I always thought you were smarter than that.” Her lovely mouth popped open on a gasp, her tanned cheeks flushing red in her anger. I continued before she could unleash whatever tirade was forming in her brain. “Have you seen Reave?”
The color immediately drained from her face and her mouth snapped shut with an audible click of her teeth. “Mr. Roundtree hasn’t been in recently,” she said quickly, her voice barely above a whisper.
“When did you last see Mr. Roundtree?” I demanded, unable to keep the sneer out of my tone.
“It—it’s been a while. I don’t remember.” She refused to look up at me, her eyes locked on the menu tightly clenched in her hands.
“Then I guess I’ll have a look around.”
As I started to walk away, Lynnette grabbed my arm in a tight grip. “Don’t do this. You don’t want to mess with him, Gage,” she urged with wide eyes as she struggled to hold me back at the entrance to the restaurant. “He’s dangerous.”
Lynnette might have been aware of who Reave was, but she didn’t appear to know that I was now involved with the bastard. Even better, she didn’t know what I was. Reave might have used the restaurant as a headquarters. Hell, he might have owned the joint, but at least Lynnette had been kept out of his business ventures. I didn’t know Lynnette very well, had only spoken to her a handful of times when I had come into the Strausse Haus or run into her at any of the local bars, but she seemed like a nice person. She needed to keep her distance from the dark elf.
I gently squeezed her hand before prying it loose from my arm. “I know what I’m doing.”
Frowning, she pulled her hand from mine and stepped back, returning to her place behind the hostess booth. She seemed to shrink inside of herself, her shoulders slumped and pulled in as if to protect herself from Reave and maybe even from her own dark thoughts. The fear in her eyes was yet another reason that this area needed to be free of Reave.
With a mental shove, I pushed those worries down as I entered the main dining area of the restaurant. Lunchtime was never a particularly busy time for the Strausse Haus, as there weren’t many businesses close by that would bring in patrons. For the bulk of the places in the immediate area, business came at dinner and later when people stopped by to drink and unwind. Looking around the restaurant, I found fewer than a dozen of the tables and booths containing guests, while there were only three people seated at the bar, nursing drinks.
I wound my way toward the back of the restaurant, where the light was a little dimmer and there was only one occupied table. My eyes briefly fell on the semicircular booth where I had first met Reave, but it was empty. I had a feeling that the booth was kept vacant, available only to Reave.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something large rise from the one occupied booth near me. Jerking around, I swallowed a curse as the tension immediately eased from my frame when my eyes fell on Freddie “the Moose” Bukowski. He worked as muscle for Reave, and wasn’t the brightest guy I’d ever met. He didn’t seem the type to hurt a fly, but somehow he had gotten sucked into Reave’s employment.
“Hi, Gage! It’s good to see ya,” Freddie said with a fast and eager grin. The mountain of a man reminded me of an overgrown St. Bernard puppy who was convinced that he was a lapdog. He leaned a little closer. “It’s good to see you not looking so beat up,” he added in a stage whisper that most of the restaurant could hear. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t stay mad at Freddie.
“Good to see you too, Freddie,” I said, unable to stop my smile as I extended my hand to the man. It was immediately engulfed in his large paw and he pumped it vigorously in his excitement, threatening to dislocate my arm.
“How you been doin’? I’ve been meaning to stop down to see you, but Mr. Reave has been keepin’ me busy.”
“Been better,” I muttered, following Freddie back to his table. As the large man returned to his seat in the booth, I got a look at the men he was sitting with, bringing a fresh grin to my face. One man scowled at me while the other seated next to him carefully kept his eyes on his plate. “Jack! It’s been a dog’s age since I last saw you,” I exclaimed louder than necessary.
His companion snorted as he tried to hold in his laughter, which quickly changed to coughing as he reached for his mug of beer. Jack glared at his pack mate for a second before turning his black look on me.
“Not long enough,” he growled. I could imagine he felt that way. A couple months back, I had wandered through his pack’s territory and refused to pay a toll. Jack attempted to jump me, and I turned him into a Chihuahua. It didn’t hurt him, but he was stuck like that until the next full moon when his werewolf side permitted him to shift. If he’d quit nursing his bruised ego, he’d realize that I’d let him off easy. Any other warlock would have killed him and his entire pack on the spot.
I slid into the booth next to Freddie. Jack opened his mouth as if he wanted to stop me, but gave up with a grunt as he dug back into his plate. In the center of the table there were bowls filled with mashed potatoes, sauerkraut, and large sausages along with a large pitcher of beer.
“I’m surprised that your pack hasn’t stopped by for some new ink,” I said, watching the men refill their plates. “When we first met, it didn’t look like your pack had its own tag.”
Jack sneered at me. “What do we need a tag for? My pack is the only one in Low Town.”
I shrugged, slouching in the booth. “You’re the only werewolf pack in Low Town, but you’re not the only shifters. I thought you’d want a little something to proudly proclaim that you and your members are of the local wolf pack. Anyway, you’d need it if you ever traveled into another’s territory.”
Jack made some noncommittal noise, not looking up at me, but the other werewolf was watching me now. I vaguely remembered him as Jack’s caretaker when the alpha had been indisposed. He was probably Jack’s second in command.
“What kind of ink were you thinking?” he asked hesitantly.
At the same time a server approached, placing a fresh bowl of sausages on the table before setting a plate, silverware wrapped in a linen napkin, and a frosted mug in front of me. I hadn’t planned to stay for food and I wasn’t a big fan of German fare. The smell from the bowls in front of me was starting to make my stomach growl. It was getting late in the day and I had yet to eat anything.
“You got a pen I can borrow?” I asked, looking up at the server.
She smiled at me as she dug in her pocket and pulled out a black ballpoint. “Anything else?”
“Nope. Thanks.”
Spreading out my napkin over my empty plate, I clicked the pen and started sketching as fast as my brain could work. In the center, I created a stylized L and T, then placed it within a large tree that had its branches and roots spread about a larger circle. “Being the Low Town pack and proud of that, you definitely need an L and T within the tattoo. Personally, if I see one more werewolf with a full moon or wolf howling as his pack tattoo, I think I’ll puke. It’s old, predictable, and been done to f*cking death. What I’d like to see you do is have the letters carved into a large oak tree. The oak is a symbol of strength, power, and virility. Kings are associated with the oak. The roots would represent your long, proud history, and the limbs represent your strength and your reach across Low Town.”
As I finished the description, I lifted the napkin and turned it around on the plate so that Jack and his pack mate could see it clearly. It wasn’t my best work, but it wasn’t bad for a quick sketch on a linen napkin. Freddie even leaned forward a little to look at it.
“And you don’t put this on your chest or arm,” I said, dragging their eyes back to me. “It goes on the side of your neck. That way everyone can see it at all times. Everyone knows that you’re a member of the Low Town Pack.”
“That’s pretty cool,” said the pack member, his gaze dancing over the design.
Jack’s frown returned and he focused back on his plate, digging into the food with more force. “No.”
“But—”
“Drop it, Dave,” Jack snapped. “You know we can’t.”
I folded the napkin and placed it next to the werewolf called Dave. Grabbing my fork, I stabbed one of the sausages and took a bite. It tasted fantastic, going a long way toward settling the complaints of my stomach. “Who could stop you?” I asked around bites.
Dave directed his attention to his food. Jack paused before looking up at me. Hatred blazed in his brown eyes that held a hint of yellow from the line of werewolf flowing through his veins. For the first time, I didn’t think that anger and hatred were directed at me.
“Reave,” I said softly. Jack gave a grunt as he grabbed his mug and drained it. To my surprise, he picked up the pitcher and filled my mug before refilling his own. “Why?”
The silence stretched for a couple minutes, until I was sure that I wasn’t going to get an answer, but Jack unclenched his jaw and spoke.
“I might be the alpha, but Reave considers the pack his. He has for as long as he’s been in Low Town. A long time ago, he killed off the pack members that had tags and declared there would be no more clan tagging in Low Town. I think he’s afraid that the tag would mean that our loyalty belongs to something other than him.”
Finishing off my sausage, I stabbed another and munched on it as I sat back, thinking. “So, if Reave wasn’t around . . .” I said, letting my voice drift off.
Jack let out a bark of laughter, the last of the anger leaving his face. “Yeah, when pigs fly. It’s a nice thought, but you’ve got to remember, we know your secret, magic man. You can’t use your hocus-pocus on him or us, and that’s the only way you’re going to get rid of someone like Reave.”
I leaned across the table, an evil grin spreading across my face. “Can’t, huh? How’d that work out for you?”
The laughter left Jack’s eyes and he glared at me again. “Yeah, well, I doubt turning Reave into an ankle-biter is going to get rid of him.”
I sat back, finishing off my second sausage while debating taking a third. Freddie turned to look at me, a worried expression across his ugly face.
“You can’t do that to Mr. Reave, Gage,” Freddie warned. “He said the Towers would kill you if you use magic. Mr. Reave also has a lot of protection like ogres and trolls and that dark elf magic.”
“It’s okay, Freddie,” I said, patting him on the shoulder, trying to reassure him. “We’re just talking. That’s all. It’s just talk.”
“Yeah, Freddie, we don’t mean anything by it,” Dave added. Some of his long brown hair slid over one shoulder to cast his friendly face in shadow.
“Head up to the bar, Moose,” Jack snapped, dropping his fork on his plate with a loud clatter. “We need some fresh drinks. Get some steins of Dunkle.”
Freddie nodded, a smile on his face again. I slid out of the booth, letting Freddie out.
When I returned to the booth, Jack sat back, watching the large man walk away. “Freddie’s a good guy, but he doesn’t know how to keep his f*cking mouth shut. The Dunkle will keep him busy for at least ten minutes. What are you thinking, warlock?”
I arched a brow at him. “How can I trust you? You said Reave owns your pack.”
Jack shrugged, his thick arms folded over his chest. “The pack does what it’s told and he ain’t said nothing about keeping you in line. Reave’s handling that personally along with his trolls. What’s changed that you suddenly feel free to use your magical mojo?”
“All bets are off now that the Towers are pissed and Reave’s behind it.”
Jack straightened and even David was watching me intently now. “What are you talking about? Indianapolis?” Jack demanded in a low voice.
I nodded. “Reave has something they want and they’re going to do a lot worse than Indianapolis if they don’t get it back soon. If they find out he’s in Low Town, the city and everyone in it are going to be dust.”
Both men looked ill as they sat staring at me. Dave recovered first. “Where does that leave you? Are you going to use Reave to get back into the Towers?”
“I have no intention of ever going back there, but I can do without Reave. This whole town could do without that bastard.” Shifting my gaze to Jack, I smirked. “The pack could too.”
“Yeah,” Jack muttered, staring at his half-empty mug. “What do you need?”
“Where’s Reave hiding?”
Jack and Dave exchanged a look, leaving the second in command giving a small shrug. The alpha turned back to me, glaring at me through narrowed eyes. “If Reave’s gone, where does that leave the pack?”
“Firmly in your hands, for all I care. I want out of this mess. Bronx too.”
“Fine with me,” Jack said with a careless wave of his hand. “He’s hiding out on the west side. He’s got a few warehouses out there. The old paper mill is his current hiding spot, up in the second-floor office. All the windows are blacked out because he’s keeping a whole horde of ogres and trolls out there with him. I got the impression that he’s waiting for something.”
“Sounds like a party,” I said as I started to slide out of the bench.
“Wait!” Jack’s sharp command stopped me before I could reach my feet. The werewolf leaned across the table, lines of worry and stress digging into his face. “You finish this. If you don’t, it’s only going to take Reave one conversation with Freddie to find out where you got his location and the whole pack is done. I don’t give a damn about myself, but I’ve got family in Low Town. A younger brother and two sisters along with a grandmother too sick to be dragged out if the Towers come here. You finish this.”
“I will.”
I shoved out of the booth and marched through the restaurant toward the front, my stomach starting to roil around the sausages I had inhaled minutes earlier. They tasted good going down, but the worry over the coming fight and the fear of the Towers was unsettling my stomach. As I passed by the bar, Freddie turned toward me, holding four large steins filled with a beer that looked as dark and thick as molasses.
“You leavin’, Gage? I got your beer,” he said, looking more than a little worried.
“Sorry, Moose,” I said, forcing a smile on my mouth as I patted his shoulder. “I just got an important call and I’ve got to go. Can you drink it for me?”
His expression immediately brightened. “Sure, Gage. Thanks!”
I chuckled as I waved at Freddie before turning and heading for the door. There was something that I envied about Moose. For him, the great worries of the world were left to smarter men. He was content to shuffle along, following others. Freddie didn’t seem to worry about more than his next meal, his next beer, and his bed at end of the day. I could have been wrong about him, but his deep thoughts never showed and the worries that scrunched up his face always faded with a reassuring word from someone he counted as a friend.
If only everything could be that simple. Or maybe not. Life would certainly be less of a headache, but a lot more boring. While I wasn’t looking forward to the fight that Reave was offering, there was a part of me that welcomed it. I should have taken care of the dark elf months ago, but fear of the Towers had held me back. Now I was simply more afraid of what the Towers would do if I didn’t act.