"Yeah, I guess it is." His free hand slipped down my back and came to rest on my butt. "You have no idea how exciting I find that."
Actually I did, given how close we were standing. But then, he was a werewolf, and danger was an aphrodisiac to most wolves, even if they didn't actively seek it out. I grabbed his hand and shoved it away. "Behave."
He chuckled softly, but otherwise did as bid. I flared my nostrils and sifted through surrounding scents, trying to get some idea of the man who'd come through the gate. But no matter how hard I tried, I could neither smell nor hear him. Maybe there was an exit at the other end of the tunnel. Maybe he'd done little more than check what his trap had caught and then moved on-
A gruff voice cut the thought short. "Look, I'm telling you, there's no one here."
It was hard to tell just how close he was because his words seemed to echo in the still blackness. One thing was sure—his voice was unfamiliar, and that was something of a relief. I'd half expected otherwise—that it would, somehow, be Lucian. Azriel's distrust had a lot to answer for.
"Well, apparently vermin can set the trap off," the stranger said. Despite the hint of exasperation, there was a deeper edge of wariness enriching his voice. He feared the person he spoke to. "As I said, there's no one in the hole."
He was definitely closer now, and tension wound through my limbs. I licked my lips, and once again tightened my grip on Amaya. Her screaming ratcheted up several notches, but at least she was restrained enough to keep it internal—although that didn't help the ache in my head any.
"Yes, I've released them." The stranger paused. "Yes, I'll head up now and move any cars that might be hanging about, just in case."
"Damn," Jak muttered. "If he damages—"
I stamped on his foot, hard. He hissed, but otherwise fell silent.
The stranger reappeared. He made a motion with his left hand, and the sickly glow reappeared in the runes. It wasn't strong enough to light the niche, but it did throw off just enough to make him a little more visible. He was about my height, with thick shoulders, muscular arms, and tree-trunk legs. He reminded me somewhat of a wrestler, but he was extraordinarily light on his feet. He passed close by our niche, but didn't see or smell us—he was human, not shifter or were, and for that I was suddenly grateful.
But as he passed, I noted the tats on his shoulders—one of a dragon with two swords crossed above it and the other a ring of barbed wire.
I'd seen both a number of times over the last few months. The dragon and swords meant he was a Razan, and while I wasn't sure what the barbed wire tat represented, I'd seen it on the man who'd arranged the delivery of the Dušan that now resided on my left arm, as well as on one of the men who'd killed Logan's secretary. How the two were connected I had no idea, because while we suspected that my father was responsible for the Dušan, there was no logical connection between him and the murder of Logan and his secretary. In fact, we were pretty sure the person responsible for those was the man who'd been impersonating Nadler.
Which meant we really needed to question this man.
The stranger strode on, the light in the six runes dying as he approached. As it did, the pillars came to life again.