Promises to Keep - By Amelia Atwater-Rhodes Page 0,33

had he had any real sleep? He kept trying, but he had barely catnapped. Now deep night was pressing against the library windows.

Brina had probably woken at sunset.

The pretty witch. Jay was pretty sure that meant him. He briefly debated the merits and downsides of presenting himself, versus hiding behind a bookcase.

Other voices scrambled to reply to Brina, but Jay couldn’t make out the words. He could feel their anxiety, though, and their knowledge that things might get messy before someone trained to handle this kind of situation showed up.

The problem was that Jay was one of the people they were waiting for. As a hunter living at SingleEarth, he was expected to deal with threats like this.

He smoothed his hair back in its ponytail—Brina was not one to respond well to individuals presenting themselves to her unkempt—then followed the shouting.

The vampiric mediator at Haven #2 was a fledgling of Mira’s line. As Jay approached, Brina picked the young vampire up bodily and threw her down the hall hard enough to splinter the wall. Brina had just turned to Vireo, who had ducked his head into the hall to see what was going on, when Jay said, “Lady Brina. So good to see you. How can I help you?”

To Vireo, he thought as clearly as possible, I’ve got this. Stay out of the way, and keep bystanders away.

Vireo had the authority to kick him out of a sickroom, but this was Jay’s field.

“Little witch, I am very cross with you,” Brina said with a pout.

“I am sorry I had to leave earlier,” Jay replied, keeping his tone as absolutely sincere and sycophantic as he could. Brina liked flattery. She expected it, and it calmed her. “I hope you found a more worthy dance partner than I.”

Brina almost looked mollified, for a moment, before she frowned and snapped, “You have no idea why I’m upset.”

“Then I apologize once again,” he said, creeping a bit closer but not yet drawing his knife.

It probably wouldn’t be a good idea to kill Brina in SingleEarth territory. Her allies included some of the most powerful vampires.

What was bothering her? Jay still wasn’t at his best, and Brina was a madwoman on a rampage, her thoughts fragmented and angry. She genuinely believed he should know why she was angry, but that was all he could pick up.

“Fair lady, what can I do for you?” he asked.

“My maid has gone missing.”

The words evoked a sense of fear and loss, which hit Jay low in the gut. Daryl had given her this particular servant, long ago, and Brina was totally unable to manage her household without …

Oh … crap.

Rikai had said that the Shantel spirit-witch had belonged to Daryl. Of course he had given that powerful, valuable slave to his much loved sister, possibly bequeathed upon his death.

Putting the bits and pieces of previous memories together with her current thoughts, Jay could almost see how it had played out. Those moss-green eyes spotting her mistress swinging from the rafter. Cutting her down and trying to calm her.

Only to have Brina throw her out of the house for her audacity.

And then Jay had picked her up and walked away with her. Now Brina was here, demanding Jay. Xeke had tried to warn Jay not to ask about the woman he had found. Jay had been talking to him in the middle of a room full of individuals with vampiric hearing and alliances to Midnight. Any of them could have heard what little he had said to Xeke.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“If you’ll simply turn her over,” Brina said, “we can go our separate ways peacefully.”

That was going to be a problem.

“And if I cannot do that?” Jay asked carefully.

“I will allow you to replace her with something of equal value.”

Brina’s voice was cool, but Jay could feel fury under the surface. Jay stole Pet. He needed to make it right.

“May I ask her value?”

“Pet reads and writes twelve languages,” Brina replied, “and has served in my household for two hundred years. She knows my schedule, and all my contacts and preferences. She knows the proper storage and usage of all my painting supplies, and is not negatively affected by fumes from the oils … unlike my previous housemaid, whose eyes started bleeding. So tell me, how much do you think she’s worth?”

She wasn’t actually looking for a number.

“I am sorry that your maid has gone missing,” he said, not about to freely admit to walking off with her invaluable so-called possession.