investigating? And if he had questions, why was he looking for answers in a knot of paparazzi outside the House, instead of using his own connections? More importantly, why Nick, and why not Jamie?
Nick stuffed his hands into his pockets and bobbed his head at me. "Quid pro quo. Why are you here?"
A second of consideration before I told him. "We're doing our own investigating."
"Of whom?"
"Not precisely who, but what. We're trying to keep our people safe." Not the whole truth, but true enough.
"From what?"
I shook my head. It was time to dig a little deeper. "Quid pro quo. While we're discussing the Brecks, what's the family been up to? How's Jamie these days?"
Nick's expression changed so suddenly I nearly took a step back. His jaw hardened, nostrils flaring, and his hands clenched into fists. For a second, I could have sworn I felt a brief pulse of magic - but then it was gone.
"Stay. Away. From Jamie," he bit out.
I frowned, trying to figure out where the anger had come from. "I just asked how he was, Nick." Mostly to figure out if he's trying to sacrifice us to win props from Papa Breck, but Nick didn't need to know that. "Why do I need to stay away from him? What do you think I'm going to do?"
"He's my brother, Merit. Family history or not, personal history or not, I'll protect him."
I frowned at him, put my hands on my hips. "Are you under the impression that I'm going to harm your brother? Because I can tell you - promise you, in fact - that isn't the case."
"And vamps are known for their reliability, aren't they, Merit?"
That one stung, and widened my eyes. Not just animosity, not only some sense of fraternal protectiveness, but a thick, acrid prejudice. I just stared at him.
"I don't know what I'm supposed to say to that, Nick." My voice was quiet. Part shock, part dismay that a friendship had gone so awry.
Nick apparently wasn't sympathetic to that dismay; he nailed me with a glare that raised the hair on my neck. "If something happens to Jamie, I'm coming after you."
One final threatening look, then he turned away and disappeared through the opposite gap in the hedge.
I stared after him, tapped my fingers against my hip, trying to get a handle on what had just happened. Not only the fact that Nick wasn't writing a story (or so he said), but the sudden protectiveness for his formerly loafing youngest brother. What the hell was going on?
I blew out a breath and glanced around the labyrinth. The glow of the hurricane lamps wavered as the oil began to run out. The light fading, and with more questions than I'd arrived with, I started back through the boxwood.
Nick's anger, his distrust, made the walk back through the woods a little less sentimental - and a little scarier. Nocturnal or not, I wasn't thrilled to be wandering through the woods in the middle of the night. I carefully picked my way back through the trees, eyes and ears alert to the presence of creepy or crawly things that lived and thrived in the dark.
Suddenly, without warning, there was shuffling in the trees.
I froze, my head snapping to the side to catch the sound, heart pounding in my ears....
And the pique of interest by my vampire.
But the forest was silent again.
As quietly as I could, I slipped my hand beneath the hem of my dress and reached for my holstered blade. Ever so slowly, ever so quietly, I pulled out the dagger. I wasn't entirely sure what I was going to do with it, but having it in hand slowed my heart's percussion. I squinted into the darkness, trying to pierce the thicket of trees.
Something padded through the woods. An animal, four-legged by the sound of it. It was probably yards away, but close enough that I could hear the pat-pat of feet in the undergrowth.
I tightened sweaty fingers around the handle of the dagger.
But then, standing there in the dark, the blade in my hand, my heart pounding with the rush of fear and adrenaline, I remembered something Ethan had told me about our predatory natures: For better or worse, we were the top of the food chain.
Not humans.
Not animals.
Not the thing that roamed the woods beside me.
Vampires.
I was the predator, not the prey. So, in a voice that sounded a little too breathy to be my own, my eyes on the spot between the trees where