Qhuinn bared his fangs and hissed down low in his throat, becoming the deadly animal that humans made up all kinds of horror mythology around. As he glared at Trez, it was pretty clear that in his mind, he was already mounting the bar and going for the Shadow's throat.
Trez smiled coldly and didn't budge an inch. "Tough guy, huh. Or are you all show."
Hard to know which fighter to back. The Shadow had tricks up his sleeve, and yet Qhuinn was looking like a bulldozer prepared to take down a building. But whatever, this was Caldwell, not Las Vegas, and John wasn't a bookie to take odds.
The right answer was to not let the unstoppable force meet the immovable object.
John balled up his fist and slammed it on the table. The crack was so loud, it brought everyone's head around, and Blay had to catch his Coke on the upswing as it bounced into the air.
After John grabbed the undivided attention of the combatants, he fingered up two birds and flashed one in each of their directions: Being mute, it was the closest he was going to get to telling them to chill the fuck out.
Qhuinn's mismatched stare swung back to the Shadow. "It's just like you would do for Rehv. Can't blame me for that."
There was a pause . . . and then the Shadow eased up a little. "True enough." As the testosterone surge faded to a dull roar, Trez nodded. "Yeah . . . true enough. And I'm not going to hurt him. If he's a gentleman, I'll be a gentleman. I give you my word."
Stay with Blay, John signed, before turning around and heading for the Shadow.
Trez led the way into a hall that was wide and stacked with cases of beer and liquor. The kitchen was at the far end, separated by a pair of flap-doors that made no sound when you went through them.
Brightly lit and with a red tile floor, the heart of the restaurant was neat as a pin and the size of a house, with a bank of stoves, a meat locker, and yards and yards of stainless-steel countertops. Pans hung up above and down below and something gorgeous was stewing on a front burner.
Trez went over and lifted the lid. After a deep inhale, he glanced over with a smile. "My brother is a helluva cook."
Sure was, John thought. Although with Shadows you always had to wonder what the protein was. Rumor had it they liked to eat their enemies.
The guy replaced the top and reached up to a stack of pads. Taking one of them off the pile, he slid the thing across the counter and snagged a pen from a cup.
"That's for you." Trez crossed his arms over his huge chest and leaned back against the stove. "When you called and asked to see us, I was surprised. Like I said, Rehv lives under the same roof you do, so it's not as if you aren't aware of what he's doing up north in the colony. Therefore you must know, as your bosses do, that he's searching the northern- most corner of the labyrinth this week . . . and you must also be aware that he's found absolutely, positively nothing that leads him to believe Xhex was captured by a symphath."
John didn't make a move, neither confirming nor denying.
"And I also find it curious that you want to ask me about drug deals, given that Rehv knows everything about the trade here in Caldwell."
At this point, iAm came into the kitchen. He went to the pot and gave it a stir as well, then braced himself next to his brother, assuming the same pose. John hadn't heard they were twins, but damn, you had to wonder.
"So what's doing, John," Trez murmured. "Why doesn't your king know what you're up to and why aren't you talking to my man Rehvenge?"
John faced off at the pair of them and then picked up the pen and wrote for a little bit. When he flashed the paper forward, the Shadows leaned in.
You are perfectly aware of what's going on here. Stop wasting our time.
Trez laughed and iAm even smiled. "Yeah, we can read your emotions. Just figured you might want to explain yourself." When John shook his head, Trez nodded. "Okay, fair enough. And I gotta respect your no-bullshit policy. Who else knows that this is personal to you?"
John went back to the pad-and-pen routine. Rehv, most likely, given that he's a symphath . Qhuinn and Blay. But none of the Brothers.
iAm spoke up. "So that tattoo you just got . . . it have to do with her?"
John was momentarily surprised, but then figured they could either smell the fresh ink or feel the reverberations of the faded pain.
With a quiet scribble, he wrote, That is none of your business.
"Cool, I can respect that," Trez said. "Listen . . . no offense, but why can't you trust the Brothers with this shit? Is it because she's a symphath and you're worried about how they'll take it? Because they're down with Rehv."
Use your head. I go all guns-blazing about her with them and we find her? Everyone in that house is going to expect a mating ceremony at the homecoming. You think she'd appreciate that? And if she's dead? I don't want to stare across the dinner table every morning at a bunch of people waiting to see if I hang myself in the bathroom.