the Shifters intact. They’ll have intel we need.”
“True.” Michael rolled his shoulders as though trying to shake off his defeat. “Please say I get to do some interrogating. I’m good at interrogating.”
He meant he was good at beating on people until they coughed up what he wanted to hear. Stuart had worked with cops like that.
“Just keep them alive.” Stuart turned his back on him, both to show he was finished with the conversation and also that he was not afraid of having Michael behind him. Shifters could strike fast, but Stuart was faster than Shifters and always had been.
He strode to the tent where Crispin waited and went inside.
Crispin, with the benefit of Shifter hearing, had followed the events outside. His face had a greenish tinge, no evidence of the ferocious black-maned lion about him anymore. He must be from a lesser branch of the Morrissey clan, low in the hierarchy. Dylan hadn’t said so outright, but he’d implied it. Crispin had probably decided to join the hoch alfar because he knew he wouldn’t gain power any other way.
“I heard you talking about Dylan,” Crispin said before Stuart could speak. “That you’ll give the Shifters to him.” He shuddered. “You don’t know how cruel that is.”
“I have a good idea,” Stuart said. “I’ve worked with Dylan a while. Let me guess, you want me to spare you that.”
“You don’t understand.” Crispin swallowed. “He’s my clan leader. I won’t be just another rebel Shifter to him. It will be personal.”
“No kidding. How about we cross that bridge later? Right now, I want you to tell me where the karmsyern is.”
Crispin started. “The what?”
Stuart leaned closer, but not close enough to get bitten or slashed if Crispin suddenly decided to shift and attack. Crispin was bound thoroughly with chains, but even fettered Shifters could be deadly.
“You know. The funny iron talisman that keeps hoch alfar from overrunning the world. You know exactly where it is, don’t you?”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Crispin went ashen, his eyes widening in fear. “How do you figure that?”
Stuart tested the weight of the sword he’d created. It wasn’t quite right—he’d been in a hurry. He willed the iron to rearrange itself slightly to make it perfect. Crispin watched the iron undulate, and swallowed.
“You allied yourself with a Fae prince,” Stuart said. “Related to Walther le Madhug, who has his eye on becoming emperor. Interesting choice—one that would bring you a lot of power if you played it right. Did you steal the karmsyern for them?”
“No!” The fast and adamant answer held a ring of truth. “All right, all right—the prince did take it for him. Wants to be Walther’s favorite toady. But I had nothing to do with it. He sent in Shifters I didn’t know, and they stole it. I guess he didn’t trust me.” Crispin sounded hurt.
“Sucks, when the master you betrayed your own people for betrays you.” Stuart folded his arms, the sword pointing downward. “Where did he put it?”
Crispin drew a breath. Stuart watched him calculate what to tell him—the man was cunning. “I can show you.”
Stuart heard Peigi come in behind him, sensed her presence. She moved to stand next to him, dressed again in the form-fitting leggings and tunic that suited her tall body.
“He’ll tell you anything to get out of his chains,” Peigi said to Stuart.
“I caught that.” Stuart edged closer to her, absorbing her warmth. “But be doesn’t have to be loose to help.”
Crispin looked disappointed. “You want your iron thingy back, right?”
He was up to something—the signs were obvious. Stuart had been a soldier, a cop, and a security expert long enough to know when someone else’s ulterior motives smacked him in the face.
Crispin played his own game, and working for the Fae prince had only been part of it. He must figure that aligning himself with Stuart and betraying the Fae was in his best interest. And he was probably right.
“You’re going to take me to it—” Stuart began.
“And lead you into a trap?” Peigi glared at him. “No way am I letting that happen.”
“I won’t let it happen either.” Stuart turned back to Crispin. “You’ve seen what I can do. One wrong step, and those chains kill you.”
Crispin gulped. “I know.”
Peigi scowled. “If he lets a Fae kill you first, it won’t matter.”
“I have the feeling Crispin won’t be the favorite of his Fae prince anymore, even if he brought me to him trussed up and gutted. Fae princes don’t tolerate failure. He’ll have installed another Battle Beast