She could teleport and she knew who he was. She had been injured, but her condition could be better than he believed it to be. It would have been easy for her to follow him back to the guild when Fuery had teleported him. He exhaled hard, expelling the tight knot in his chest with it.
She could have followed him to the guild but not here. Elves left no trace of the path they had taken when they teleported. There was no way for her to follow him here. He was safe.
He idly lifted his left hand and rubbed his right shoulder.
“Is it still bothering you?” Fuery’s low voice held a note of caution, a wary edge that revealed he knew the reason Hartt had touched the place where the female had stabbed him.
His friend might as well have come out with it and asked if he was thinking about her. Was she still bothering him? Yes. For some godsdamned reason, he found it impossible to keep his mind off her.
Had he hurt her?
Had Fuery?
Rosalind cleared her throat. “I said, that’s strange.”
He looked across at her, growing aware of her again. She didn’t look pleased.
“What’s strange?” he said, before she could unleash a spell on either him or Fuery as payment for not responding when she had spoken earlier.
“I can sense other magic on you… like a… lingering trace.” She looked him up and down, her gaze turning scrutinising, tinged with mistrust. “You been near witches when they’ve been using spells?”
He shook his head. “No.”
Then paused.
“Maybe. I was at the celebration at the Fort William fae town, tracking a mark. I don’t recall encountering any witches using spells though.” He had brushed past a few, but the scent of magic hadn’t been strong on them, and he would have sensed it if they had been using spells.
“It’s definitely the trace of a spell.” She stood and bent over, leaning towards him as she peered into his eyes, her blue ones narrowing as her rosy lips compressed. Her right eyebrow slowly rose. “Definitely a spell. Too weak for me to know what it was, but it was strong when they cast it.”
That wasn’t a comfort.
Vail frowned at him. “Who have you been in contact with recently?”
“It needs to be physical contact to leave a marker like this,” Rosalind added.
Hartt thought about it and could only come up with three names. “Fuery, Shaia and Mackenzie.”
“Is she a witch?” Vail’s deep voice gained a dark edge and Rosalind gave him a pointed look. His expression shifted towards sheepish. “Witch with a W.”
Hartt had been around a few times when Rosalind had accused people of saying ‘Witch with a B’, something she took particular offence from. Hartt suspected it had to do with how Vail had probably acted when they had first met. His prince didn’t trust witches. In fact, he tended to prefer they were dead and it had been by his claws.
“No.” Hartt shook his head again and then slowed as he frowned. “I don’t think so. I am not sure what she is, but I am sure she isn’t a witch.”
That was explanation enough for Rosalind. “Anyone else?”
He pursed his lips, sighed and ran back over the last few days. Mackenzie kept popping up. Mackenzie’s fist striking him. Mackenzie’s fingers gripping him. Mackenzie’s lips pressing against his. He banished her, but she refused to go, kept tormenting him, right at the front of his thoughts. Fuck, she was trouble. More than he needed. Maybe he should have talked to his client about her.
“My client,” he muttered, his black eyebrows pinching hard. “I met with him close to five days ago.”
Rosalind pulled a thoughtful face, poured herself a cup of tea and added a hefty spoonful of sugar with the smallest dash of milk he had ever seen.
When she caught him staring, she smiled. “I like it sweet and dark, what can I say?”
Her blue gaze slid to her mate.
Vail growled low, one filled with hunger that Hartt could practically feel thickening the air.
It filled him with a need to hurry the witch along because he really didn’t need to get another eyeful of Vail and Rosalind locked in each other’s arms. Not when his mind was still being traitorous, flashing replays of Mackenzie and rousing a need to find her and see her again.
Kiss her again.
“Is five days too long?” Hartt prompted, eager to leave.
Rosalind shrugged. “Probably not. Depends on how strong the magic is. Is your client a witch?”
“I don’t think so.” But he was starting to suspect that he was and it rang alarm bells in his mind. “We don’t tend to probe into the lives of our clients.”
“Maybe you should.” Rosalind leaned back in her armchair, taking her tea with her, and crossed her legs, flashing a lot of bare skin.
Hartt averted his eyes. Vail snarled anyway.
She flashed her mate a saucy smile and demurely covered her thighs, taking her time about smoothing the black material over them. Drawing another low growl from his prince.
“There’s nothing wrong with running background checks on your clients, you know? I do it all the time.” The witch sipped her tea and sighed as if she had just tasted the sweetest ambrosia in the known world. “That hits the spot.”
“Is this Mackenzie you mentioned an assassin too?” Vail finally managed to drag his gaze away from his mate, although it retained the hungry edge it had gained.
Hartt nodded. “The client hired both of us to take out the King of Death.”
Rosalind came dangerously close to spitting her tea everywhere. “Woah, hold up, what now? Grave is your target?”
“You know him?” Hartt found that difficult to believe, but stranger things had happened. “Did he hire you in the past?”
Rosalind made all kinds of spells and potions for people. It was possible she had crossed paths with the vampire that way.
“No. We ended up fighting on the same side in a demon war. I wouldn’t say we kept in touch, but we’ve bumped into each other a few times since then.” She waved her hand dismissively but then she sobered, her light air falling away as she stared him down. “I was wrong about you. You have to be crazy. Going after Grave… Have you met his mate?”
“I know he’s bound to a phantom.” And when he had learned about it, he had debated whether or not to turn down the contract after all, but then he had decided his plan would involve luring the vampire away from his female and eliminating him before she could intervene.
“He knows, he says so casually… as if the phantom won’t eviscerate him for even looking at her mate funny, let alone laying a finger on him. I’ve met his mate. We’ve met his mate.” She looked at Vail.
Vail frowned and then the dark slashes of his eyebrows rose and he nodded. “Isla. She was with her sister, the First King, when the dragons tried to start a war in the elf kingdom. I recall her being a skilled and fearless fighter. She led the demons of the First Realm well that day.”
That didn’t instil confidence in Hartt. If anything, it only shook the confidence he did have. If Vail had thought the phantom a skilled warrior, then she was far more formidable than Hartt had thought. He was going to have to be extremely careful if he wanted to come out of this contract with his soul still in one piece and his head still on his shoulders.