“You stay the fuck here,” Shepherd growled, stalking past me toward the liquor table.
I folded my arms. It wasn’t even an open room but one with four walls and a door. A champagne-colored tablecloth covered the table, and two candelabra adorned the center, each with five burning candles. The table sat close to a wall with a painting so massive that it spanned the length of the table itself. It depicted a foxhunt.
I bet that went over well for any guests he might have had who were fox Shifters.
“Here. This’ll smooth out the rough edges.”
I accepted the wine Shepherd offered. “If it dulls them, pour me another.”
His glass clinked against mine in agreement, and he gulped down half the wine. “I hope this ain’t one of those dinners where they bring out twelve courses.”
“You better eat up and enjoy every bite. It’s my week to cook, and don’t expect me to order pizza every night. This might be your last chance to eat real food for the next few days.”
“Nah. Your breakfast wasn’t all that bad. I’ve had worse.”
I nudged his shoulder. “So you’ve been to prison?”
He chuckled, and we branched apart to opposite ends of the room. Long tables lined two walls, one filled with alcohol and the other with silk flowers. Our shoes were noisy against the wood floor underfoot, though the dining table sat atop a giant gold rug. We didn’t say anything, just kept walking around and admiring the décor. Shepherd hefted an empty crystal vase and tossed it up in the air before catching it and putting it back on the table. I spotted a bottle of tequila and quietly unscrewed the cap. After a quick glance over my shoulder, I took a swig and set it back down.
“I heard that,” he said, amusement in his voice.
I needed something to settle my nerves, and the weak wine wasn’t cutting it. Men like Patrick Bane were way out of my class. What the heck did I have in common with rich guys?
I reached through the gap in my blouse and adjusted my bra. Viktor picked the wrong girl to make an impression.
“Forgive me. I was held up with business,” Patrick said as he coolly entered the room. He was a lanky man who looked around fifty, but the Mage carried himself in a manner that indicated he’d been around for a long time. He had both frown lines and laugh lines, and his fading red hair was short and nicely groomed. In his vest and dress shirt, Patrick looked every bit a politician—counterfeit smile and cocksure personality included.
He approached Shepherd first and bowed. “Patrick Bane, at your service.”
“Shepherd Moon.”
I almost expected Shepherd to say “not at yours,” but he remained polite.
“This meeting is long overdue,” Mr. Bane said in that melodic Irish accent of his. His friendly manner put me instantly at ease. “I’ve thought back to that night many times,” he continued. “It’s appalling how many of my guests made no attempt to catch the child. If you hadn’t been there, it would have been a grim outcome indeed.” He put his hand on Shepherd’s shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. “The world could use more men like you.” Then his eyes skated over to me. “I don’t believe I’ve had the delightful pleasure of a formal introduction.”
We’d met before, but I guessed this was part of the dinner dance. “Raven Black.”
He glided over and took my hand. “Charmed.” His lips brushed across my knuckles as he looked up at me with those green eyes.
“I’m the one your progeny tried to kill.”
He coughed in surprise and straightened up. “And you have my gratitude for putting Darius away. I appreciate your candor, Miss Black. Please, have a seat.”
Patrick pulled out a chair near the head of the table on the left, and when I saw Shepherd veer to the right end, I grabbed the center chair and dragged it out.
Mr. Bane quickly took hold of it and pushed it in once I was seated. “I see you found the wine.”
I set my glass on the table and stared up at the painting while Patrick refilled Shepherd’s glass before sitting to my left.
Patrick’s eyes fixed on the candles. “I much prefer quaint gatherings, don’t you?”
When Shepherd didn’t say anything, I grabbed my glass. “Yep.”
He better not make me do all the talking. I gave Shepherd a sharp glare as I sipped my wine. He set his phone on the table next to his plate.
Mine was in the pocket of my coat, which the doorman had taken, so I wasn’t able to fake an emergency to weasel my way out of this dinner if things got awkward.
Disastrous.
As soon as the servant set the first course down, I smiled. What’s the rush?
“Hope you like the hors d’oeuvres. I didn’t think something like bruschetta would be enough to tide over a man like you,” he said to Shepherd.
I picked up one of the fancy mini sandwiches and tried to shove the entire thing into my mouth, but the bread was excessively big.
“How’s the kid?” Shepherd asked conversationally. He smashed his sandwich flat and ate it.
Meanwhile, my jaw was about to unhinge, so I tried the same technique.
“It was a traumatic experience. As you can imagine, he’s not as trusting of strangers.” Patrick cut into his sandwich with a knife. “I simply can’t raise a child with that kind of fear, so I’ve got my work cut out for me.”
I looked at the bite I’d taken out of my sandwich and noticed my burgundy lipstick smeared all over the bread. Shepherd had already scarfed down his third and final hors d’oeuvre.
“My sources tell me you’re working on a new case surrounding a murder,” Patrick began. He wiped his mouth with a linen napkin and proceeded to slice into a second sandwich. “Don’t look alarmed. I take personal interest in those cases, and it was a topic of discussion this morning at our meeting. Have you made any progress?”
Shepherd cleared his throat. “We’re not at liberty to discuss.”
“Of course.” Patrick sipped his wine and set it down. “I wouldn’t ask you to divulge confidential information, but I do want you to know that if there’s anything I can do to assist, I’m at your service. It’s the least I can do after what you’ve done for me.”
Shepherd nodded. “I’ll let Viktor know. We might take you up on that offer if you’re serious.”
“Criminals like these should be strung up and made an example of. That’s what they would have done in my time, but now we have rules to abide by and regulations to follow. But see, that’s where organizations like yours come in.”
Shepherd looked up. “Meaning?”
“I think we both know what I mean. And just so you know, men like me appreciate what you do for us. Some criminals don’t deserve a prison cell, and our executions are, dare I say, humane.” Patrick shifted his gaze to me. “Have you ever witnessed an authorized execution?”
I gave him a nervous smile as a servant took away my plate and replaced it with a bowl of soup. “Can’t say I have. Do they sell tickets somewhere?”
Patrick laughed blithely. “Our punishment is swift and certain. We carry out a sentence the moment it’s given. No time for appeal. We have Regulators who perform the beheading. Friends and family can attend, although to be honest, most have none. Do you know why royalty used to have public executions? It wasn’t for entertainment. Nothing instills obedience more in the hearts of men than seeing the consequences of their actions.”
“It also makes a lot of people lie against their neighbor when you have a system set up that doesn’t allow for appeal.”
“You’re a Mage,” he said, steepling his fingers. “Newly made, I presume. You can’t possibly imagine what life was like centuries ago and how far we’ve come. And yet, despite the laws we’ve established and restrictions on making immortals illegally, crime seems more rampant now than ever.”
I gave Shepherd my best “why am I doing all the talking?” stare.
“You I haven’t quite figured out,” he said to Shepherd. “You don’t strike me as a Shifter.”
“Sensor,” he replied matter-of-factly, arms folded on the table.
I lifted my napkin, and when I dragged it toward my lap, the fork fell onto the floor. “Sorry.”
“I have to say I admire Viktor’s vision,” Patrick continued. “I’ve traveled across the globe and seen a few organizations like yours. Most are made up of the same Breed. I suppose it makes it easier for everyone to get along, but it’s limiting, don’t you think?”
I bent down to pick up the fork while they discussed Keystone. Better that they do most of the talking since I didn’t want to upset Viktor by saying something I wasn’t allowed to disclose. Most of it was common sense, but I never liked to make assumptions. When I lifted the tablecloth to search the floor, I blinked in surprise.
Patrick’s little boy sat Indian style beneath the center of the table. It was dark down there, only a little candlelight filtering through the tablecloth. He quickly held a finger to his lips to ask for silence. I did the same to let him know I’d keep his secret. The poor little guy was probably too frightened to come out—not at all the same spirited youngster I remembered from the party. He had a black mask made of fabric over his eyes and a cape around his neck. It reminded me of a period in my youth when I wore a pair of ballerina slippers everywhere, believing they’d magically make me into a dancer. My father told me that I’d inherited both his left feet, and that was why he couldn’t send me to ballet class.