“And are they obliged to recognize your authority?”
Damien and Gabriel froze, turned their gazes toward me, the sizzle of the pan suddenly the only sound in the house.
I cleared my throat nervously at my apparent breach of etiquette. “I didn’t mean they shouldn’t recognize it. I’m just not certain of your, you know, rules.”
Gabriel held up a hand, and the cloud of magic that had crept in at my perceived slight dissipated. “There are, as you know, four Packs in the United States. Colorado is within the NAC’s territory, and that makes the McKenzie family, whether they prefer to admit it or not, part of the Pack.”
“Fair enough. Are you planning to tell them that tonight?”
“I am. Those are words I prefer to say in person, which is partly why I’m here.” He glanced at Ethan. “And what will the vampires be doing this evening?”
“The sheriff asked Nessa to walk through the house, see if anything was missing.”
“In case this was just a robbery gone bad,” Gabriel suggested, as Damien offered Ethan an omelet.
Ethan nodded his thanks, bit in. “I wouldn’t have thought the sheriff that naive, but he rules a town that’s seen more than its fair share of violence. His skills are necessarily suspect.”
“I doubt a man stays in a hidden valley in Colorado in order to advance his career,” Gabriel quipped, sipping beer with a knowing smile. “I’m sure your getting a look at the Clan’s HQ is also on your wishlist?”
“We’ve gotten the basic details,” Ethan said. “Only fifteen members, but Clans are still to be registered with the NAVR, and this one isn’t. I wouldn’t mind giving it a perusal.”
Gabriel snorted. “I’m guessing these fangbearers don’t give two shits about your rules or regulations. If they’ve made a family that’s lasted a century without involvement of the NAVR, they most certainly aren’t going to start now.”
“Be that as it may,” Ethan said. “My job is to manage risks for my House, and manage I shall.” He took another bite, glanced at me. “Wasn’t the Librarian going to send you a file?”
The seductive scent of bacon had distracted me. I pulled out my phone, skimmed through messages from Luc, my best friend (and sorceress) Mallory, and my grandfather, all of them wishing us a good vacation with varying degrees of sarcasm. And the report from the Librarian.
I opened it . . . and whistled. He’d sent a timeline of the feud, a two-page bulleted list of strikes and counterstrikes, with designations for whether the incidents had been suspected, documented, or proven in court.
“What’s the good word, Kitten?”
“There are a lot of incidents,” I said. I read through the list, then passed the phone to Ethan and Gabriel so they could get a sense of the feud’s scope and the creativity of the groups’ reactions.
Humans weren’t the only beings who could come up with inventive ways to torture each other. The blood-across-the-door threat was common, as were thefts of objects deemed important to each group. Not to mention the flat-out murder and assault. So many deaths, so much waste, and all because of a woman who might not have done anything wrong in the first place.
And that’s the part I kept tripping over. “Are they making this too complicated?”
“What’s that?” Gabriel asked.
“I guess the feud—all of it. They started fighting because someone decided Fiona’s disappearance was part of a scheme, murder by the vampires or theft by the shifters.” I glanced at Ethan. “We’re always talking about Occam’s razor, right? About how the simplest explanation is usually the right one. A scheme doesn’t exactly fit that.”
“So what does?” Damien asked, hands braced on the countertop.
I frowned. “I don’t know. Christophe reportedly woke at dusk, and Fiona was gone. But she was a shifter. She could leave during the day. So what’s the simplest explanation? She went out, meant to come back, but didn’t for some reason. Got lost, got injured, got killed.”
“They’ve had a century to think that through,” Ethan said. “Surely they’d have looked everywhere—overturned every stone—to find her.”
“Or would they?” Damien asked. “If they already hated each other, why bother proving the entire situation was an accident? Why not let it lie and use the lie against them?”
“There’s also the possibility the present murder isn’t feud related,” Gabriel said, and I nodded.
“Taran studied cartography, exploration,” I said. “Maybe he found something no one wanted publicized.”
Gabriel glanced at Ethan over my head. “She’s coming along nicely.”
“All according to plan,” Ethan said, wincing good-naturedly when I slugged him in the arm, since slugging Gabriel didn’t seem the best option.
Gabriel took a final drink of his beer, sat it on the countertop. “In that case, we should probably get to our respective trips. I’d like Damien to go with you.”
“Now who wants a look at the Clan?” Ethan asked.
“Oh, I don’t deny it,” Gabe said, spinning the empty bottle on the countertop. “But my primary concern is the McKenzie family. They’ve shown very little respect for your House or mine. I’m going to assume, until proven otherwise, that they’re stubborn idiots, and take care of you as necessary.”
Damien and Gabriel froze, turned their gazes toward me, the sizzle of the pan suddenly the only sound in the house.
I cleared my throat nervously at my apparent breach of etiquette. “I didn’t mean they shouldn’t recognize it. I’m just not certain of your, you know, rules.”
Gabriel held up a hand, and the cloud of magic that had crept in at my perceived slight dissipated. “There are, as you know, four Packs in the United States. Colorado is within the NAC’s territory, and that makes the McKenzie family, whether they prefer to admit it or not, part of the Pack.”
“Fair enough. Are you planning to tell them that tonight?”
“I am. Those are words I prefer to say in person, which is partly why I’m here.” He glanced at Ethan. “And what will the vampires be doing this evening?”
“The sheriff asked Nessa to walk through the house, see if anything was missing.”
“In case this was just a robbery gone bad,” Gabriel suggested, as Damien offered Ethan an omelet.
Ethan nodded his thanks, bit in. “I wouldn’t have thought the sheriff that naive, but he rules a town that’s seen more than its fair share of violence. His skills are necessarily suspect.”
“I doubt a man stays in a hidden valley in Colorado in order to advance his career,” Gabriel quipped, sipping beer with a knowing smile. “I’m sure your getting a look at the Clan’s HQ is also on your wishlist?”
“We’ve gotten the basic details,” Ethan said. “Only fifteen members, but Clans are still to be registered with the NAVR, and this one isn’t. I wouldn’t mind giving it a perusal.”
Gabriel snorted. “I’m guessing these fangbearers don’t give two shits about your rules or regulations. If they’ve made a family that’s lasted a century without involvement of the NAVR, they most certainly aren’t going to start now.”
“Be that as it may,” Ethan said. “My job is to manage risks for my House, and manage I shall.” He took another bite, glanced at me. “Wasn’t the Librarian going to send you a file?”
The seductive scent of bacon had distracted me. I pulled out my phone, skimmed through messages from Luc, my best friend (and sorceress) Mallory, and my grandfather, all of them wishing us a good vacation with varying degrees of sarcasm. And the report from the Librarian.
I opened it . . . and whistled. He’d sent a timeline of the feud, a two-page bulleted list of strikes and counterstrikes, with designations for whether the incidents had been suspected, documented, or proven in court.
“What’s the good word, Kitten?”
“There are a lot of incidents,” I said. I read through the list, then passed the phone to Ethan and Gabriel so they could get a sense of the feud’s scope and the creativity of the groups’ reactions.
Humans weren’t the only beings who could come up with inventive ways to torture each other. The blood-across-the-door threat was common, as were thefts of objects deemed important to each group. Not to mention the flat-out murder and assault. So many deaths, so much waste, and all because of a woman who might not have done anything wrong in the first place.
And that’s the part I kept tripping over. “Are they making this too complicated?”
“What’s that?” Gabriel asked.
“I guess the feud—all of it. They started fighting because someone decided Fiona’s disappearance was part of a scheme, murder by the vampires or theft by the shifters.” I glanced at Ethan. “We’re always talking about Occam’s razor, right? About how the simplest explanation is usually the right one. A scheme doesn’t exactly fit that.”
“So what does?” Damien asked, hands braced on the countertop.
I frowned. “I don’t know. Christophe reportedly woke at dusk, and Fiona was gone. But she was a shifter. She could leave during the day. So what’s the simplest explanation? She went out, meant to come back, but didn’t for some reason. Got lost, got injured, got killed.”
“They’ve had a century to think that through,” Ethan said. “Surely they’d have looked everywhere—overturned every stone—to find her.”
“Or would they?” Damien asked. “If they already hated each other, why bother proving the entire situation was an accident? Why not let it lie and use the lie against them?”
“There’s also the possibility the present murder isn’t feud related,” Gabriel said, and I nodded.
“Taran studied cartography, exploration,” I said. “Maybe he found something no one wanted publicized.”
Gabriel glanced at Ethan over my head. “She’s coming along nicely.”
“All according to plan,” Ethan said, wincing good-naturedly when I slugged him in the arm, since slugging Gabriel didn’t seem the best option.
Gabriel took a final drink of his beer, sat it on the countertop. “In that case, we should probably get to our respective trips. I’d like Damien to go with you.”
“Now who wants a look at the Clan?” Ethan asked.
“Oh, I don’t deny it,” Gabe said, spinning the empty bottle on the countertop. “But my primary concern is the McKenzie family. They’ve shown very little respect for your House or mine. I’m going to assume, until proven otherwise, that they’re stubborn idiots, and take care of you as necessary.”
