“Where is she?” Stefan demanded in a trembling voice.

“Dead.”

Stefan kicked the lycanthrope in the back, knocking him to the ground again. “I understand that! Where is her body?”

“Burned,” Ferko admitted, slowly pushing back into a sitting position. “It’s the only way to be sure that one of your kind isn’t going to rise again. Her ashes were spread around these woods.”

Stefan looked up at me, shaking his head. I could see the pain in his eyes. He couldn’t stay here and not kill Ferko. And I couldn’t blame him. If I had been in his shoes, I would have already ripped the werewolf’s heart from his chest. Of course, I didn’t think the werewolf deserved such a quick death. He deserved to suffer for the death of Michelle, and if I had any say in the matter, he would before we left Budapest.

Just give me a little more time, I begged Stefan.

So long as he is mine before we leave Budapest.

You can have Odelia as well if you would like.

Throw in a seat on the coven and I might not have to kill you myself, Stefan said, causing one corner of my mouth to twitch with a morbid laugh.

Agreed.

Stefan’s eyebrows jumped as he looked at me, surprised by my promise. The nightwalker said no more after that, not waiting to spoil his sudden good luck. He simply disappeared into the darkness, leaving us to handle Michelle’s murderer.

“Tell me about the warlock who was with your kinsmen during the day and I’ll consider sparing your life,” I said.

Ferko turned his face up to me, frowning. I doubted whether he could actually see me through his blurred vision, but I could tell he was considering my offer. He had to know that his life was dangling by a thin thread. “Warlock?”

“Oh, don’t start playing dumb with me again,” I huffed. “We were making such progress.”

Ferko shook his head, turning his face back to the ground again. His shoulders were slumped and his breathing was labored. His body was having trouble healing all the wounds we had inflicted on him despite the full moon. Of course, if it hadn’t been a full moon, I seriously doubted that he would have been able to survive. Valerio and Stefan liked to play rough.

I paced away from Ferko, walking over toward Danaus. Valerio looked up from his fingernails and pushed off from the tree with a jerk of my head. He headed over to our captive and took up Stefan’s position behind Ferko. While Valerio might not like to get his hands dirty, he was still very good at it. If I gave the slightest indication that I wanted Ferko dead, Valerio would not only happily carry out my wish, but also make sure it was a particularly slow and painful death.

“I’ve been around for quite a while, Ferko,” I started again, trying a different approach. “I’ve known nightwalkers and lycanthropes to work together on the rare occasion. I’ve known nightwalkers to rarely work with warlocks and witches. But this is a first. Warlocks don’t generally get along with shifters. They see you as just a bunch of filthy, uncivilized animals that can’t control your basic urges. Why would a warlock possibly want to work with your kind?”

“Maybe this one sees you as being less desirable to have around than a pack of animals,” Ferko sneered.

“Maybe,” I admitted. “I’ve pissed off my fair share of warlocks, but I have to say that I haven’t been in this part of the world in a long time. I don’t know who would find my presence undesirable.”

“No one wants you to be the keeper here,” Ferko said. “You don’t belong here.”

“And trust me, I don’t want to be keeper here, but someone has to rein in the chaos in this area before it leaks across the rest of Europe. Not every nightwalker is going to prove to be as tolerant as me.”

“Tolerant? You’ve destroyed my pack!” he snarled, baring his fangs at me. Power filled the air so that the scent of the woods grew even thicker. Valerio leaned forward and clipped the werewolf behind the ear. The lycanthrope collapsed in a limp heap at my feet, unconscious.

“Valerio!” I shouted, throwing my hands up in frustration. I wasn’t even close to being done interrogating our prisoner. I needed to know more about the warlock that was apparently working with the lycans, and by extension, the nightwalkers. This kind of collaboration wasn’t something that set me at ease. Sure, at one time in my own domain my own people had gotten along with the lycanthropes, and I had a scattering of associates that were witches and warlocks. But this arrangement in Budapest was distinctly different and completely unsettling. The warlocks and lycanthropes were acting as muscle for the nightwalkers during the daylight hours, extending that species’ power more than it should have.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, flashing me a weak smile. “I don’t know my own strength sometimes.”

“Is he still alive?”

“Yes,” Valerio said, sounding put off that I would think he had so little control. “He’s just unconscious. I am assuming that you want him awake when I kill him. Or should I call Stefan back? I’m sure he’d be happy to finish off this fleabag.”

“Leave him alive. I promised him to Stefan later. Right now, we need him conscious so we can get more information out of him. I need to know who this warlock is.”

Valerio sighed as he stepped over Ferko’s unconscious form and started to walk over to where he had left his coat folded over a tree limb. “We don’t need him for that.”

“Of course we do,” I snapped, trailing behind him. “The lycans that attacked Danaus during the day were accompanied by a warlock.”

“The night that we met with Veyron, Mira and I were attacked by a magic user,” Danaus interjected. “I’m willing to bet that it’s the same one. A city generally doesn’t have that many powerful magic users on hand.”

Valerio turned and arched one eyebrow at us as he pulled on his coat. “Agreed. Warlocks aren’t very good at sharing. However, in this town, I would be reluctant to make such an assumption. It seems like everyone is working together here.”

“Too true. Nightwalkers directing lycanthropes. Warlocks protecting lycanthropes.”

“I’m surprised that they haven’t also struck a deal with the naturi,” Danaus added, earning a dark look from me. We didn’t need to discuss potential deals with the naturi. We had already been down that route and the outcome was never pretty. The last time such a thing was spoken of, I ended up on the coven.

“The naturi don’t like to make deals,” I said. “Besides, Rowe’s running around the city with his own personal band of followers. Their only agenda is to get their hands on me so they can hand me over to Aurora. He’s not going to be into making deals with anyone. At least, I hope not.”

“Unlikely,” Valerio agreed.

“Thanks,” I grumbled, but then turned my attention back to our problem at hand. With the toe of my scuffed black boot, I turned Ferko over so he was lying awkwardly on his back with one arm trapped under his body. His mouth was slack as blood trickled out of the corner and dripped onto the melting snow. “What about the warlock?”

“It’s likely that it’s Clarion,” Valerio stated.

“Clarion? I’m afraid I’ve never heard of him.”

“He’s given me a little trouble in Vienna. He’s a powerful warlock who is based in Budapest, but he’s come around some of the other big cities surrounding Budapest, looking to expand the reach of his . . . domain,” Valerio said, struggling for the right word.

Warlocks and witches were not known for having a domain. They tended to settle in a central location for a time, and operated exclusively in that region until they either died, grew bored, or were run off by someone more powerful. They didn’t have followers or minions like nightwalkers or lycanthropes. And they didn’t try to expand the reach of their home territory. This didn’t sound good at all, and it clearly explained why Valerio was interested in this little trip to Budapest. It was a chance to make a grab at his annoying neighbor, possibly scaring him into a new location if he didn’t simply kill him.