When she opened her eyes, she was once more in control of things. Lily closed her car door and walked to her flat. She looked at the new door before she put her key in the lock. After the break-in, she had been more than a little paranoid.
A glance around showed her no one was paying her any mind. She turned the key, unlocking each of the three dead bolts while looking to the right and the corner where she thought she had seen Dennis. Then she pushed open the door and stepped inside.
Lily hastily closed the door behind her, then locked all the dead bolts. She let out a breath, letting her shoulders sag. It wasn’t until she was hanging her purse on the coatrack by the door that she realized she wasn’t alone.
With her hands still on the strap of her purse, she locked her eyes on the one face she’d prayed never to see again—Dennis.
“Well, well, well. Fancy seeing you here,” he said with a smirk from her favorite chair.
*
Henry kept his eyes closed when he woke. He took quick stock of his body and realized he had at least two broken ribs, three broken fingers, a broken nose, and a deep cut on his lip and left cheek.
But his entire body felt as if he had been soundly thrashed.
Which he had.
How the hell had Ulrik found out? Henry had been more careful than on any of his other jobs. There’s no way Ulrik should’ve known. Hell, Henry hadn’t even told Banan. The only ones who knew were in MI5.
Anger simmered. Apparently there was more than the small faction of traitors in MI5. Since he was part of an elite task force to bring an end to the traitors, the group who knew his moves was small. It wouldn’t take too much to go through each of the ten and figure out which one had betrayed him.
If he lived.
Henry’s mouth was dry. He longed to swallow, but if he did they would know he was awake. They. He inwardly snorted. He wasn’t sure which “they” it was, but it was obvious he was being watched.
He doubted Ulrik or the Dark Fae would’ve allowed MI5 to take him, which meant he was either with the Dark Fae or with Ulrik. And neither scenario was good news.
Henry pushed such thoughts aside for the moment and concentrated on what was around him. He lay on a soft surface, the smooth feel of leather beneath his hands. A sofa. Not something he expected after being ratted out.
The quiet around him was only broken by the occasional pop of a fire. What the bloody blue blazes was going on? He wasn’t in the prison he imagined, or dead as he had fully expected.
Finally, Henry cracked open one eye and saw the lights dimmed around him. He moved his left arm across his abdomen and took as deep of a breath as he could manage without crying out in agony. Then he sat up. The room spun around him, and his breathing grew shallow from the swarms of pain that assaulted him.
“Not such a good move, agent.”
Henry recognized the voice. Ulrik. He put his wounded hand with his three broken fingers on the sofa to steady himself and looked to the doorway where Ulrik was standing.
The banished Dragon King wore a navy suit with white pinstripes and a white shirt beneath without a tie. His hands were in the pockets of his pants, pushing his suit jacket open.
“I bet you didn’t think you’d wake up here?”
Henry glanced at the dark wood paneling, the large stone fireplace, and the array of artwork hanging on the walls. “I admit I thought I’d be in a prison somewhere.”
“There’s no reason prisons can’t be … comfortable,” Ulrik said as he sat in a chair to the left of the sofa.
“Why am I not dead?”
Ulrik shrugged. “Oh, I’m sure you will be soon. I wanted to question you myself.”
“And you managed to get me away from MI5 and the Dark Fae? All by yourself?”
Ulrik’s smile grew, while his gold eyes glittered with humor. “There are those who think me inconsequential. Others don’t know what threat I am. Still others would disregard me. They’ll all learn soon enough.”
“Why tell me this?”
He shrugged. “Why not? I want people to know how powerful I am. What better way to spread the word than through you?”
“So that’s why you kept me alive?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that was the only reason.”
Henry refused to look at the tall crystal decanter filled with water on the coffee table in front of him. He leaned back carefully, biting his tongue in pain. “Why use the fake accent? I know you’re Scottish.”
Ulrik chuckled and rested his arms on the thick rolled arms of the chair. “You pretend to know me?”
“I don’t pretend. I know who you are.”
“Really?” he asked in mock surprise. “Then enlighten me. Who am I?”
“Ulrik, the banished Dragon King.” Henry’s announcement didn’t have the effect he expected. Ulrik didn’t bow his head in agreement or even sputter in outrage.
He simply smiled.
Something wasn’t right. Something wasn’t right at all.