His premature, failed offer might work to his benefit. Would she seek out the location of the old ones for him? He could simply follow her, and she would play her part, even if her reasons differed from those he had counted on.

Welstiel stepped back into the forest, feeling the black, scaled coils of his slumber, as if even now they circled about him in the darkness. He did not relish his next meeting with the patron in his dreams.

Something moved in the grass near his feet, and he looked down. A small animal darted away into the brush, and he caught only a glimpse of its naked tail. Likely a rat, though they seldom ranged to the woods with autumn closing in. A louder snap sounded behind him, and he turned, on guard.

A tall figure with red-brown hair stepped from behind a gnarled cedar. He wore a well-tailored cloak and a long sword. Welstiel glanced down at the path of the rat.

"I see we both have an interest in the dhampir's whereabouts," Chane remarked politely. "I've always found common interest a suitable beginning for conversation."

Welstiel despised his own kind, but perhaps there was a use for this creature in the coming days. Without response, he stepped through the trees and headed for the outward road.

Chane followed quietly behind.