“How is Valerio going to track down the naturi if he can’t sense them?” Danaus asked, surprising me with his concern.

I smiled up at my companion as we trudged back through the woods toward the car we had stolen shortly after sunset. “He’s a smart guy. He’ll figure it out. A place where the humans have been murdered at an alarming rate, a heavily wooded area, or just a place where humans are afraid to tread. That’s enough to ferret out the naturi.”

“You’re using humans as a guide?”

“Sure, they’ve got a natural sixth sense about danger.”

“Then why do they flock to vampires?”

“I never said they were very good about listening to it. Besides, we’re not trying to kill them, just feed off them. The naturi are the ones that actually want them dead.”

“Nice rationale,” Danaus said as he walked around to the driver’s side and opened the door.

“Yeah, I thought so.”

Danaus paused, standing next to the car with the door open. He stared at me over the roof of the little car. “We’re hunting a warlock?”

“We’re just going to have a nice little chat over coffee,” I corrected with a shaky smile. I was beginning to think that Valerio had the easier task. For a brief moment I thought about reaching out to Stefan and requesting that he come along. However, I pushed the idea away as I climbed into the stolen car. Stefan needed some time to cool off and get back in control of his temper. As surprising as it was to me, he had lost someone important to him simply because she was beautiful. Michelle deserved better than that, and Stefan was determined to give it to her. He would need to kill both Odelia and Ferko to have his revenge. Unfortunately, to help him succeed, I first needed to deal with a warlock that was determined to see me dead.

Gerbeaud Cukrászda was stunning. I’d grown accustomed to cramped, dark little coffeehouses with people hunched over laptops or hiding behind a newspaper. But Gerbeaud Cukrászda was an old traditional Hungarian coffeehouse with its enormous arched windows looking out onto the city. Gold gilt and crystal chandeliers hung from domed ceilings, casting the room in a warm glow. Along the walls were rich wood sideboards that held delicate pieces of ancient china with slightly faded patterns, worn by the massive passage of time.

The coffeehouse was crowded, with people relaxing at small round tables laden with their coffee and frothy pastries that left me briefly longing for my more humans days when I craved things like sugar, milk, and airy whipped cream. Where coffeehouses in the United States were little dens of caffeine sin, Gerbeaud Cukrászda was a palace dedicated to the ancient art of coffee and decadence.

Danaus and I arrived looking as if we had just survived a fight for our lives. Our clothes were torn, dirty, and splattered with blood. I shoved one hand through my hair, trying vainly to smooth it back and into some semblance of order.

Danaus smiled at me, catching my eye in a nearby mirror. “You look vibrant,” he said in a low voice, causing me to smile as well. He was being far too kind. We both looked a mess and had no business walking into such a civilized setting, but there was nothing that could be done about it. The night was still young, and the longer we remained in Budapest without taking care of this nonsense, the more dangerous it became.

It was tempting to cover us in a light glamour so people wouldn’t notice our disheveled appearances, but I decided that it just wasn’t worth the energy. Instead I turned my attention to scanning the beautiful restaurant for the one that would most likely prove to be Clarion.

He wasn’t hard to spot. At the far end of the room was a man sitting at a table alone with a leather-bound book in one hand. He wore a fashionable suit with a dark blue and gray tie. I had little doubt that this person was Clarion. However, what I did find disturbing was that he wasn’t the only magic user in the room. In fact, a quick scan of the coffeehouse revealed at least seven other magic users of varying power strengths in the room, though none was anywhere near as strong. Apparently, Danaus and I had stumbled upon a favorite watering hole for warlocks and witches. Fabulous. Simply fabulous.

I had known that this very public gathering would be a mix of talking, coercion, and grandstanding, but I didn’t expect that I would be the one outnumbered at this gathering. If I had learned anything in my six centuries, it was that one did not go picking fights with powerful warlocks and witches, and never in their own territory.

Keep your temper and your weapons to yourself, I warned Danaus as I started to weave my way through the tables toward Clarion.

I can manage it. Can you? he taunted.

I was going to try, but I had my doubts. Ferko, Rowe, and Nick had all managed to push my buttons that evening. I suspected that Clarion was going to be happy to do the same once we sat down with him. He had every reason to suspect that he had the upper hand in our little game of cat and mouse. Danaus and I were the outsiders, while he was part of something far larger, which was attempting to kill me and my companions.

When we got within a dozen feet of the table, Clarion closed his book and laid it on the table as he turned to face us. He rose smoothly from his chair, running his hands over his jacket as if to brush away any nonexistent wrinkles. He smiled benignly at us while his dark brown eyes twinkled with some ill-concealed laughter, as if he held some secret delight that we did not yet know about.

“Clarion?” I asked as we drew closer.

“You must be Mira and Danaus,” he said in heavily accented English. “Forgive me, but I noticed your entrance. Or rather, your scan of Gerbeaud. I naturally assumed you were looking for me.” He motioned for us to take the two empty seats at his table while he resumed his seat.

“Do you frequently receive visitors here that search for you in such a manner?” I inquired politely as I took a seat opposite him. It was a struggle to ignore the grass stains on my shirt and the tear in my pants near my thigh as I sat across from Clarion in his tidy suit and precise manners.

Picking up the spoon from its place on his saucer, Clarion stirred his coffee a couple times before taking a sip. “Frequently? No. But I am aware of my standing in the community, and I would be the one you were most likely seeking in this place in such a manner.”

I swallowed my next question as a server came over and took Danaus’s coffee order while I waved him off. Rowe and Nick had already pressed me to my breaking point, and I was in no mood to pretend to be human tonight.

“And I also deduced that it would only be natural for you to seek me out following your recent claim on Budapest,” Clarion continued. “Congratulations.”

“So you’ve heard already,” I said, sitting back in my chair.

“Budapest may be a large city, but the supernatural community remains relatively small. Word travels fast,” he said with yet another smug smile.

“I find myself reluctant to agree that the supernatural community is really all that small. Though it’s a bit smaller now,” Danaus interjected in a low voice that brought a smirk to my own lips.

“Since coming to Budapest,” I said, “I’ve noticed that there is a large gathering of nightwalkers here, the Budapest pack was relatively large, and besides yourself there are at least half a dozen magic users in this coffeehouse alone. Not a bad showing for a town of any size.”

“Forgive me, but what do you mean the Budapest pack was relatively large?” Clarion inquired, his hand stilling on his coffee cup.

“My companions and I are in town for a variety of reasons,” I said, brushing some dirt off the leg of my pants. “One of them was related to the disappearance of a nightwalker. After some inquiries, we discovered that members of the local pack killed her. Retribution was meted out tonight and the Budapest pack has been nearly exterminated.”