other such nefarious things. In the time I'd known him, I had started feeling less nervy when I spied a Regulator uniform in the streets. In fact, I'd started checking to see if it was him, disappointed when it wasn’t.
Roman’s eyes shifted to me and I felt absurdly delighted to see him, even as a snarky voice in my head told me I was too old to be crushing out on a guy.
‘What are you doing here?’ I asked him.
‘Lora.’ Roman inclined his head. ‘I hope you are well.’
I tried not to flush under the intensity of his gaze, acutely aware of his proximity. ‘Fine, fine,’ I murmured.
Crowhurst waved the Grundler file at me. ‘How about a deal. I'll work with you on this job to find Grundler, but give me today to see what I can rustle up on my own.’
‘Gideon won’t be happy,’ I told him.
‘Gideon won’t know.’
I shrugged, figuring why not. If Crowhurst wanted to do all the hard work, who was I to stop him? Besides, I wasn’t in a hurry to start questioning a bunch of griorwolves. ‘Fine, but tomorrow we work on it together.’
‘Deal.’ Crowhurst strolled back into the kitchen.
Roman’s eyes skipped over to the table of Runners. ‘Can we talk in private?’
My heart gave an excited lurch. I indicated a narrow archway in the courtyard wall that lead to a walkway that looped around into Abraham’s Alley. The Runners whispered behind our backs as we went, and I heard a few stifled snorts of laughter. Bunch of jerks. Velkov could have them.
The walkway was shadowed and quiet, the noise from Abraham’s Alley muffled by the towering brick and timber buildings either side of us. Roman’s hand settled on the base of my neck, guiding me to the right. His touch, firm but gentle, sent a sizzle of excitement down my spine and small electrical charges through my body.
I faced him, breaking the contact. This attraction was dangerous territory. Nephilim like Roman were bred by the Order of Guides, a militant fraternity that was part of the influential Church of Higher Path. The Grigori priests who ran the Order acted as a judicial authority, presiding over the illegal use of dark magic. Witch Hunters worked closely with the Regulators, using their natural ability to seek out darkcraft users like bloodhounds. Traditionally male, they were recruited at an early age by the Grigori and trained to use tedious church approved spells.
I was pretty sure I could handle myself with Roman, and some part of me was convinced he would never hurt me. Regulators lived by a strict code of ethics and, though some human Regulators were rotten and twisted, the nephilim were tightly bound to their code of honour. I had to remind myself that Roman’s loyalty lay with the Grigori, and I shouldn’t place too much trust in him.
‘I come bearing an invitation from Grigori Fowler,’ Roman said. ‘He’s asked if you would come and see him for a quick meeting.’
My mind went blank with surprise. ‘You must be joking.’
My path had crossed with the hook-nosed Grigori priest once before. Fowler knew I was nephilim, a fact he hadn’t shared yet with others in the Order to my knowledge. He was also a member of a clandestine organisation within the Grigori: the Brotherhood of the Red Hand. When one of its members had tried to use my blood to activate the spells within the Aldebaran and had almost destroyed Harken, Fowler had proven himself marginally sane by not aligning with the madman’s plot. Didn’t make him all right in my book, but at least I was sure he didn’t want me dead just yet.
‘Your safety is guaranteed.’ Roman nodded in the direction of Abraham’s Alley. ‘I have a coach waiting for us.’
My eyebrows knitted. ‘What does the esteemed Grigori Fowler want?’
‘I'm under the impression he wants to have a conversation.’ Roman smiled. ‘Nothing more sinister than that.’
‘Huh.’ I put my hands on my hips. ‘He thinks I should drop everything when he clicks his fingers and come running?
Roman’s eyes shifted to me and I felt absurdly delighted to see him, even as a snarky voice in my head told me I was too old to be crushing out on a guy.
‘What are you doing here?’ I asked him.
‘Lora.’ Roman inclined his head. ‘I hope you are well.’
I tried not to flush under the intensity of his gaze, acutely aware of his proximity. ‘Fine, fine,’ I murmured.
Crowhurst waved the Grundler file at me. ‘How about a deal. I'll work with you on this job to find Grundler, but give me today to see what I can rustle up on my own.’
‘Gideon won’t be happy,’ I told him.
‘Gideon won’t know.’
I shrugged, figuring why not. If Crowhurst wanted to do all the hard work, who was I to stop him? Besides, I wasn’t in a hurry to start questioning a bunch of griorwolves. ‘Fine, but tomorrow we work on it together.’
‘Deal.’ Crowhurst strolled back into the kitchen.
Roman’s eyes skipped over to the table of Runners. ‘Can we talk in private?’
My heart gave an excited lurch. I indicated a narrow archway in the courtyard wall that lead to a walkway that looped around into Abraham’s Alley. The Runners whispered behind our backs as we went, and I heard a few stifled snorts of laughter. Bunch of jerks. Velkov could have them.
The walkway was shadowed and quiet, the noise from Abraham’s Alley muffled by the towering brick and timber buildings either side of us. Roman’s hand settled on the base of my neck, guiding me to the right. His touch, firm but gentle, sent a sizzle of excitement down my spine and small electrical charges through my body.
I faced him, breaking the contact. This attraction was dangerous territory. Nephilim like Roman were bred by the Order of Guides, a militant fraternity that was part of the influential Church of Higher Path. The Grigori priests who ran the Order acted as a judicial authority, presiding over the illegal use of dark magic. Witch Hunters worked closely with the Regulators, using their natural ability to seek out darkcraft users like bloodhounds. Traditionally male, they were recruited at an early age by the Grigori and trained to use tedious church approved spells.
I was pretty sure I could handle myself with Roman, and some part of me was convinced he would never hurt me. Regulators lived by a strict code of ethics and, though some human Regulators were rotten and twisted, the nephilim were tightly bound to their code of honour. I had to remind myself that Roman’s loyalty lay with the Grigori, and I shouldn’t place too much trust in him.
‘I come bearing an invitation from Grigori Fowler,’ Roman said. ‘He’s asked if you would come and see him for a quick meeting.’
My mind went blank with surprise. ‘You must be joking.’
My path had crossed with the hook-nosed Grigori priest once before. Fowler knew I was nephilim, a fact he hadn’t shared yet with others in the Order to my knowledge. He was also a member of a clandestine organisation within the Grigori: the Brotherhood of the Red Hand. When one of its members had tried to use my blood to activate the spells within the Aldebaran and had almost destroyed Harken, Fowler had proven himself marginally sane by not aligning with the madman’s plot. Didn’t make him all right in my book, but at least I was sure he didn’t want me dead just yet.
‘Your safety is guaranteed.’ Roman nodded in the direction of Abraham’s Alley. ‘I have a coach waiting for us.’
My eyebrows knitted. ‘What does the esteemed Grigori Fowler want?’
‘I'm under the impression he wants to have a conversation.’ Roman smiled. ‘Nothing more sinister than that.’
‘Huh.’ I put my hands on my hips. ‘He thinks I should drop everything when he clicks his fingers and come running?
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