Chapter 20

The small dark wizened man had been known over the years by so many names he had long forgotten the callow youth named Glew he once was. These days, he was one of the Three who ruled Oldtown’s vast criminal underground. His part of the pie was the drug trade. Both mortals and immortals on both sides of the border provided a ready market for the designer product that came out of the Dökkálfar alchemists’ labs.

The Druid was also a thief, but he didn’t steal mundane things like gold and jewels. He stole your lives—all of them.

He felt his wards trip and a fizzion of terror raced through him. The boy had arrived in Emory. His hands clenched and unclenched as he walked up North 35th street in Fremont to the passageway to Oldtown. To add to his general feelings of anxiety he wondered and worried why the damned Vampire had called for Three to meet. He was almost certain she couldn’t have gotten wind of his latest venture. His survival hinged on the fact that his other plan in Emory was kept secret. His own lieutenants would rise and end him quickly if they thought there was even a chance that he was risking a war with the witches and shifters.

He was sure that the Keeper’s Boy was the one that the seer had warned him of. So, the boy needed to be dealt with and soon. He had dealt with the other obstacles. The old Keeper was gone. The witch laid up in a coma, effectively incapacitated.

Just the boy remained. But a voice inside whispered—four times you tried to eliminate him and four times you failed. That same voice told him to fold his cards and walk away. But it was too late. His condition had deteriorated too much to allow him to start over at one of the other Thinnings.

His cell rang, causing him to jump. It was the Hag.

“Did you get the shifter pup back,” he demanded.

“I had some problems. The mother slipped by me and succeeded in getting the whelp to the Keeper’s Boy. I tried to compel him, but he is considerably more powerful than you told me. I hit him with a 12th circle compulsion spell, and he waved it away like it was nothing.”

The Druid’s heart skipped a beat.

“I called to warn you. He’s on his way with the pup to Emory.”

“He’s there now, you incompetent bitch,” he snapped. He took a calming breath. “Thanks to your incompetence, he now knows something is up. He will be staying at the hotel, take him there. Make it look like one of your Coven sisters did it out of hatred for him. There are plenty who do, that’s for sure.”

“It will be a risk, master. I will try again.”

“See that you succeed, or I swear I will flay the skin off your back. witch.”

After he disconnected, the little man continued his walk to his meeting. He moved with precise even steps through the afternoon sunlight, trying to smother his frustration. The thought that the success of his plans were out of his control and in the hands of others threatened to send him into a towering terror-inspired rage that he couldn’t afford to indulge around his partners. Any scent of weakness they would jump on like a dog to a bone. Lessons down the long centuries of his life had taught him discipline and control was survival.