“Where’s the bitch?” Sadie growled. She’d never been one for pleasantries. Why use a scalpel when a sledgehammer was so much more fun?
With the familiarity of a longtime lover, Duncan strolled across the room to grab a bottle of whiskey from the mantel, taking a deep swig before turning to meet her glowing gaze.
“There were…complications.”
“Do I look like I give a shit about complications? I told you to bring me the Were.”
Duncan grimaced. “She wasn’t alone.”
Sadie hissed as she straightened from the door. “Salvatore followed her to Hannibal?”
Another swig of the whiskey. “Worse. She had a vampire with her.”
“What the hell would she be doing with a bloodsucker?”
“Not just any bloodsucker.” Duncan’s sharp laugh ricocheted uneasily through the room. “I’d bet my ass it was the reclusive, legendary Jagr. I caught a glimpse of him once when I was in Chicago, but he’s not a demon you forget.”
“Jagr? I thought he was a myth.”
“Tooth fairies are a myth. Jagr is a force of nature that even other vampires fear.”
Sadie stormed across the room, yanking the bottle of whiskey from Duncan’s hand and swallowing the remaining dregs.
Perfect. Absolutely freaking perfect.
It wasn’t bad enough that Regan had slipped from her grasp, now she was being protected by the Hannibal Lecter of vampires?
Shit, Caine was going to skin her alive.
Literally, not figuratively.
“Why would he protect the Were?”
Duncan leaned against the stone mantel, folding his arms over his chest.
“Oh, I don’t know,” he drawled. “Perhaps it has something to do with the fact her sister is the current Queen of Vampires?”
The thought of Darcy being discovered after so many years, only to be snatched away by the King of the Living Dead, sent another wave of fury through Sadie, forcing her to battle the instinctive urge to shift.
“Interfering leeches. I warned Caine that leaving that ditzy Were in the hands of the vamps was trouble.”
Duncan’s lips twisted as his gaze skimmed down her tense body, lingering on the tattoo of a striking snake that coiled about her waist.
“I heard your complaints, but I noticed you didn’t offer yourself to become fodder in the skirmish between the vampires and purebloods, Sadie, luv.”
Sadie stepped back from Duncan’s pulsing heat. Now was not the time to be distracted.
“Where are the others?” she demanded.
“Dead.”
Sadie whirled to hurl the empty bottle of booze into the fireplace. The shatter of glass was satisfying, but it did nothing to soothe her scalding fury.
It wasn’t that she gave a crap about the dead curs. They were nothing more than renewable resources. But the fact they had failed in their duty made her want to rip their corpses apart piece by piece.
“The vampire?”
Duncan rubbed his side as if remembering a painful blow. “No, we were hit by a spell.”