Too often nightwalkers were seen as the most dangerous of the supernatural creatures because of our need for blood to survive. However, warlocks and witches were frequently the most brutal of the others simply because there were too few of us strong enough to stand up to them. The only thing we had in our favor was that warlocks and witches didn’t frequently feel the need to strike out at the other races. Like nightwalkers, they were content to fight among themselves.

With a few solid mental pushes and a little misdirection, I finally managed to extract Danaus from the crowd gathered around him and the car. He stumbled over to where I was leaning against the wall, a frown creating lines in his brow.

“Warlock?” he asked.

“Or witch. Apparently we have an admirer in town besides Rowe,” I grumbled in a low voice, still trying to avoid the attention of the crowd that was now being dispersed by the newly arrived police and ambulance. I squinted my eyes against the flashlights on their cars, which bathed the area in bright shades of red and blue.

“Earth warlock or witch?”

I shook my head and instantly regretted it as it felt like my brain had sloshed around in my skull. “No,” I replied with a soft groan. “The magic felt like blood magic. Crisp, clean, familiar. This was a blood magic user who was looking specifically for us.”

“Maybe you,” Danaus quickly countered. “I don’t have any enemies in this part of the world.”

A little snort escaped me as I looked up at my companion. “My enemies are your enemies now, my friend.”

Danaus’s frown eased as he put his hand under my chin and tilted my head up so he could get a better look at my face and the blood that was now smeared across my cheekbone and jaw. “You should have just left me in Savannah,” he said.

“And leave you out of the fun? You’d never forgive me,” I teased, finally succeeding in erasing the last of his frown. “How bad does it look?”

“You’re a mess,” he said, dropping his hand back down to his side.

“You’re not,” I griped. “Of course, you’re the one that landed on me.” Looking around the area, my eyes finally settled on an elegant hotel just down the block. It was a safe place to clean up before we continued on to Veyron’s. I knew I couldn’t show up on his doorstep looking like I had just survived a car crash. With a gentle jerk of my head, I motioned for Danaus to follow me down the street.

“Any clue as to who our new friend is?” he asked after we were several feet away from the crowd of people. His pace was slower than usual, but then I think he was more worried about me and the limp I had developed. The broken ribs I had sustained from the second attack mixed with the aches and pains from the car crash were slowing me down. My body was healing, but it was also starting to demand that I stop and feed. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option with Danaus hanging on my coattails. Of course, if Veyron was half the host I expected him to be, I wouldn’t be surprised if he offered appetizers.

“No idea,” I muttered. “The only person I know that could have pulled such a spell is Ryan, and that wasn’t Ryan.”

“No, that wasn’t Ryan,” Danaus agreed. He had only gotten a brief glimpse of the person on the rooftop, but it was enough to know that it wasn’t the lanky, white-haired man that ran Themis. We had had a falling out with the powerful warlock, but I was relieved to see that he hadn’t made an appearance in Budapest with the sole purpose of making our lives more difficult. He was undoubtedly saving that for a more special occasion.

Wincing against the bright light that filled the hotel lobby, I paused in the middle of the room, staring up at Danaus, who was watching me as if I looked like I was about to fall over. “Not a word of this is mentioned at Veyron’s,” I declared. “He can’t know that we’re having trouble in his city. I want Valerio or Stefan to look into the warlocks and witches first.”

“If he’s as powerful as everyone seems to think he is, wouldn’t he know who the most powerful warlocks are?”

“If he’s smart, he will. I just don’t want him to know that he’s not the only one trying to kill me.”

“Veyron’s trying to kill you?”

“Of course. Why else would Macaire have sent us here? Macaire needs me dead, and for some reason he’s sure that Veyron has an edge. If Veyron knows a warlock or a witch is gunning for me too, he may try to strike while I’m in the middle of a fight with the other bastard.”

“Doesn’t a meeting with Veyron and Macaire together seem unwise if they both want you dead?”

“Possibly, but you’re watching my back. It will be fine.”

“Go clean up in the bathroom and I’ll meet you right here,” Danaus said, pointing me toward the restroom near the back of the lobby. There was no use in continuing the conversation. I was determined to discover exactly what Veyron and Macaire were doing in Budapest.

With a sigh, I shuffled toward the bathroom, peeling off my coat as I walked. It was splattered with my blood, but as far as I could tell, none of my blood had gotten on my sweater. I would need to burn the coat before I appeared at Veyron’s, but otherwise he wouldn’t be able to tell that Danaus and I had been in a bit of a scuffle.

I couldn’t begin to guess why the magic user had attacked us. The only one that might be even a little angry with me was Ryan, and I didn’t think it would be his style to send someone else after me when it would be more to his advantage to manipulate me back to his side. I was far more valuable to him alive than dead, particularly if he was looking to get a toehold of control on the coven.

This magic user was also striking me at a bad time. It wasn’t enough that I had to worry about what Rowe was up to, but I had to try to guess why Macaire had sent me to Budapest in the first place. Sure, it was to die, but why here? What edge could Veyron actually have over me and Danaus?

Of course, there was potentially an even darker reason as to why Macaire sent me to Budapest, but it was too horrible of a thought to contemplate. And besides, there was absolutely nothing I could do to stop him.

Veyron’s house was naturally an enormous affair with old beveled glass windows and a gray stone front. The courtyard was brightly lit with an array of old lampposts and a pair of electric wrought-iron sconces next to the front door on the face of the house. Tall trees with gnarled branches like the bony fingers of the dead reached out across the yard, casting great shadows over the area. The bare branches clacked together in the wind, while snow swirled around our feet. As we stepped out of our second taxicab, both Valerio, Stefan, and Macaire appeared just behind us, wrapped in their coats, while I stood in only my sweater and dress pants.

“What took you so long?” Stefan inquired with a frown.

“And what happened to your coat?” Valerio added.

“We ran into some unexpected problems. I’ll tell you later,” I growled under my breath as I walked up to the front door. I didn’t want Macaire to know about our little run-in with the warlock if I could help it.

Before anyone could ring the bell, the door was pulled open by a stiff-looking human in all-black attire. He didn’t ask who we were, but wordlessly waved for us to enter the house. It was all I could do to keep my face perfectly blank as we were led through one opulently decorated room after another toward the back of the house. I kept a nice, comfortable home in Savannah, but this house dripped money and classic Old World charm. There was furniture throughout the place that was more than a couple centuries old and all in pristine condition. Silver and gold candelabras glowed with candlelight throughout the rooms, while fires flickered and danced in every fireplace we passed.