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I would face Searle, the avatar of a life I did not want, but I had promised my wolf-of-silver I would live.
Sterling and I had parted ways before my plane had taken off. He’d gone back to the house in Seattle—that I’d never seen—and I’d gone to the airport’s luxury lounge to shower. I’d carefully bundled up all my clothing that smelled of Sterling and put them into a plastic bag before changing into fresh clothes. I couldn’t be caught with a whiff of Sterling on me.
“Thank you, Hamid,” I said as the airstairs were lowered.
“I will escort you out.”
“No.” I shook my head. “I can find my own way.”
“Of course. I will just make certain of it.”
“Hang back, please,” I begged.
It was almost four in the morning. It was cold, dark, breezy, and smelled of mist. The airport was quiet and still. We were the last plane to land, and there wasn’t much in the way of ground crew. I couldn’t tell if any were AmberHowl through the powerful dose of MoonDark that now had me fully in its grip.
Searle got out of his truck as we approached.
“You can go, Hamid,” I said under my breath.
“Who is this?” Hamid inquired, measuring Searle with his usual professional estimation of how quickly and in what manner he would break Searle’s limbs.
Searle, of course, saw the look, and dismissed it with his own soft-spoken lack of regard. “No one you need to concern yourself with.”
In a fight between Hamid and Searle, Hamid didn’t stand a chance. And Searle knew it, and it seemed like Hamid knew it. But Hamid was paid to know things, not acknowledge them.
I sighed as I moved alongside Searle. “Searle, this is Hamid. Hamid, this is Searle. Hamid is my bodyguard.”
“Ah, the one who was with you in Alaska,” Searle said in his eerily quiet voice.
Hamid nodded, eyes narrowing slightly.
Searle studied Hamid up and down with quick flicks of his amber gaze. “I’m not sure we’ll meet again, Hamid.”
“I’m sure if we do, you won’t be the one to have a say in it.” Hamid replied matter-of-factly. He turned and headed back towards the plane.
Searle opened the passenger door of his truck, expression still and composed. He supported my arm while I got in—my side still ached so badly—and stretched the seatbelt so I wouldn’t have to twist, then closed the door.
“I am not sure why Demetrius and Marcella trust him,” Searle said as he got in next to me.
I sighed. “He doesn’t know anything. He thinks we’re a cult.”
My soul hurt like it’d been run over by an 18-wheeler wearing snow chains, but that was an entirely different matter.
“He seems to know a great deal.”
“Well, he was with me in Alaska, so he got to see some ritual torture up close and personal.”
Searle glanced sideways at me. “How did you sell the silver to him?”
“The usual line: adder poison. He’s not a rent-a-cop, he was recruited from the military and almost made the Presidential detail with the Secret Service. Hamid collects seashells, hybridizes orchids, and does ultra-extreme triathlons. He’s not looking for an angle.”
Searle reached across the console and placed his hand just above my knee.
I twitched, but managed to not twist away.
He didn’t say anything the rest of the way back to AmberHowl.
Searle closedthe door behind him. I sat on the edge of the bed, staring out the window, the small shoebox containing the items on my lap. It was dark outside. The house had the low buzz of people in their rooms. It was almost dawn, and the rattling in the kitchen meant someone was getting breakfast started.
