Hotbloods (Hotbloods #1)

“You’re right,” I said. “We’ve got to at least try. I mean, won’t they help if we ask them to? Vysanthe clearly needs to be stopped from terrorizing other planets, and The Fed was an organization set up to do just that—maintain balance and protect weaker species.”

“Unfortunately, it’s not so simple,” Navan said. “If we approach it like that, what we’re really asking for is a bright red target on our backs—The Fed would not be successful in subduing Vysanthe even if it tried. If threatened, the Queens would put their differences aside to join forces and combat the threat. Take your entire planet’s militaries, combine them, and you wouldn’t be anywhere close to how powerful Vysanthe’s military is. And our environment is too harsh; there are few who could compete with us in our own element. The Fed knows this, which is why Vysanthe has had free rein for so long. Of course, that doesn’t mean the Queens will ever grow complacent—they still don’t want The Fed knowing about their business.”

“So what would you tell The Fed, then, if you managed to get a meeting?” Ianthan asked.

“As you said, we may have no choice but to tell them the truth—or at least, part of the truth. Our case has to be strong enough for them to be persuaded,” Navan continued. “We’d also have to hope we can persuade them to keep our identities confidential… But we’re getting way ahead of ourselves. Before we get to that, we have to figure out how to meet with them.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. “I thought I was going to try to get a meeting with them.”

“I don’t know where The Fed’s headquarters are… though I do have an idea of how we might attract their attention.” He swept past me and reached the ladder. “For now, let’s get out of this hole.”

Ianthan and I followed, reemerging in the icy world above. However we ended up meeting with this organization, I was going to have to convince a bunch of werewolves to return Navan’s supplies.

The only thing I knew for sure was that we were certainly going to be gone longer than twenty-four hours.





Chapter Fourteen





Navan closed the bunker’s hatch after us, and then we took to the air again, flying to the nearby village to continue our discussion. The cold had really started to get to me; I couldn’t stop my teeth from chattering, and my fingers had gone numb a while ago. We landed outside a cozy little café, thankfully open at this early hour. By the looks of the dark street it was located on, it was probably the only place ever open at this time. We stood around the back of the building where vents were situated, blowing out deliciously warm air.

I shuddered, trying to sink deeper into my coat as I relished the heat. Navan dug a hand into his shoulder bag and pulled out a fistful of dollar bills. He pressed them into my hands, and nodded toward the entrance of the café. “Go get yourself something to eat.”

“How did you get this money?”

“I arrived with some Vysanthian gold that a pawnshop was happy to accept.”

“Ah,” I murmured, “that’s handy.” I didn’t have the interest to linger too long on that, with the prospect of food awaiting me. I hurried around the corner and entered the café, where I was delighted to find a counter filled with an assortment of warm, buttery pastries. I ordered two large croissants and hot chocolate in the largest size they sold—topped with a dollop of whipped cream.

I made my way back outside after paying for the order, and almost moaned as the warm, sweet liquid trickled down my throat. I dug into the pastries ravenously, and had eaten half of one already by the time I returned to Navan and Ianthan around the corner.

Navan’s bag seemed to be becoming more and more like Mary Poppins’s — the guys had been shirtless before, but, to remain inconspicuous, they had folded away their wings and donned black sweaters, which Navan must’ve been carrying in his bag.

As I approached them, Navan was also holding a small round gadget to his ear that I hadn’t seen before—it was some sort of comm device. He must’ve left one back in Texas too, because he was talking to his brother, a note of impatience in his tone. “Yes, I know it’s dangerous, Bashrik,” Navan was saying in a low tone. “But what other choice do we have? Whether or not The Fed was responsible for the theft, we need their help. They will have advanced ships of their own—probably even more advanced than ours. They’ll have equipment I can use to get the control board working, and hell, if we really managed to get on their good side, they might even give us a new ship. For now, just hang tight.”

Navan paused as Bashrik said something, and his eyes rested on me as I continued devouring my meal. “I appreciate your concern. And you’re absolutely right, of course I’d say the same if it were you. And yes, you need to tell Riley’s friends—they’re going to have to think of an excuse to cover her for at least another day, I suspect. We’ll talk soon. Take care of yourself.”

Navan removed the gadget from his ear, pressed a button, and stowed it in his bag. He ran his hands through his hair and looked at me as I extended my hand out to him to return the change. He took it, then looked over my shoulder, toward the glass bus shelter behind me. “Shall we sit?” he suggested, slipping the change into his bag.

The three of us sat down together on the bench, our backs facing the road. It didn’t look like there were surveillance cameras around here, and it was still dark, so I wasn’t concerned about anyone noticing their peculiar skin shade. We would likely be on the move before the sun rose.

“How’s Bashrik doing?” I asked. Whatever Bashrik had said to his brother, it had sounded like he was very concerned about Navan’s safety—which I found both nerve-racking and endearing. “He seemed worried.”

“His wound is healing—it hopefully won’t be too long before he can fly again. And yeah, he was worried, but that’s what he does. Under that outgoing exterior of his is a huge bundle of anxiety.”

“Well, it’s good he’s healing.” Lauren would be relieved about that. Poor thing, she’d gone from barely shooting a bullet in her life to almost accidentally killing someone. “I assume my friends were sleeping?”

Navan nodded. “They returned home for the night.” He withdrew a couple of vials from an outer zipped pocket of his bag, handing one of them to Ianthan, before unscrewing his own and downing it. He grimaced slightly as he swallowed.

“What’s that?”

“Silver root.”

“Ah.” The pit of my stomach dropped a little at the reminder, but there were too many other things for me to think about to dwell on it. “So, the plan,” I said, sipping from my cocoa.

“Yes, the plan,” Ianthan repeated. “How do you suggest we go about attracting their attention in the first place?”

Navan rubbed his hands together, staring at the brickwork of the café building in front of us. “We’ll have to pull off some kind of stunt that screams supernatural in order to draw The Fed out to investigate. Also, it’ll need to be somewhere densely populated. I suggest a major city, possibly New York.”

I frowned. “That’s my city.”

“Feel like a homecoming?”

“I just . . . Nobody will get hurt, right?”