Gregor lifted a hand, nodding and slowly moving into the room. “I understand, Abel. But I’ve requested Lucien and Callum come to us so we can finally share with you all that needs to be shared.”
“My guess is they already know what those bitches were at the restaurant, so you can start with enlightening me on them while we wait,” he demanded.
“Those…bitches?” Gregor asked, sounding confused.
“The ones who formed out of thin air,” Abel explained.
“Ah,” he murmured, moving further into the room, then stopping. “You mean the wraiths.”
“The what?”
“Wraiths,” Gregor repeated. “You see, there are more immortal beings beyond vampires and werewolves. There are wraiths, phantoms, golem, and The Wee.”
Fabulous.
“You obviously don’t know this,” Gregor started as he moved to a chest that had a bunch of glasses and finely cut stoppered bottles on it. “But their appearance today was most welcome.”
“I do know it, seein’ as if they hadn’t shown, we’d all be dead,” Abel returned.
“No,” Gregor said quietly, making the chest with the bottles but turning to Abel. “That’s not the entire reason. You see, until recently, we did not have their allegiance. They’ve since explained to me that this was withheld for the purpose of them being able to intervene in the likes of what happened today. Knowing plans were being made, plans that were to be carried out, they were paying lip service to our foes. This meant there was a trust established that allowed them to be in the know of things we were not, including their plans to attack today, en masse, after they’d dispatched my scout. Something they did within seconds of his making his all-clear call, giving them the opportunity to be on the move swiftly and take us by surprise.”
“And they found him how?” Abel asked.
Gregor shook his head, his expression turning profoundly unhappy. “I don’t know. He was a human. Ex-Special Forces. Exceptionally well-trained at what he did, he was almost like a phantom, except not immortal, so I’m surprised they discovered him.” The vampire turned to the chest, pulled out a stopper from one of the bottles, and poured himself a healthy dose of what Abel smelled was whiskey, doing this while talking. “He leaves behind a two-year-old son, a six-month-old daughter, and a wife he’s been with since high school.”
Abel’s throat closed.
Fuck.
Gregor lifted the bottle Abel’s way. When Abel shook his head, the vampire topped the bottle, grabbed his glass, and turned back to Abel. “He’s a great loss,” he said, sounding like he meant it, before he took a sip of whiskey.
“Your wraiths couldn’t save him?”
“If they did, they would have exposed early where their allegiance lay and would not have been able to surprise our enemy, which allowed us to defeat them soundly and deliver to them a number of casualties. I haven’t been able to tell you this, but none of them escaped. The wraiths dispatched them all.”
Finally, good news.
“Right, so they couldn’t have given that aid before Snake got his throat torn out?” Abel pushed.
Gregor’s focus intensified on him. “I understand your anger.”
“Sorry, you don’t,” Abel bit out. “See, my mate clung tight to my back on my bike, her cheek to my shoulder, and she cried the whole fuckin’ way here. I felt it. I sensed it. I heard it. It’s good my instinct to keep her safe is strong or I woulda crashed that bike, seein’ as her grief cut me that deep. And I liked the guy. Didn’t know him that well, but I liked him mostly because he loved my woman in a way he was willing to die for her. And then he did.”
“Whatever burial your mate’s people request, we will provide for him,” Gregor replied quietly.
“That’s appreciated, but my point is, we gotta have a fuckin’ burial.”
“Abel, we’re at war,” Gregor told him. “This happens. It’s hateful. But it happens.”
He was not wrong.
Abel let Snake go, since the man was dead and there was nothing he could do but help his woman and her people mourn him, and he asked, “You wanna explain this war?”
“Perhaps I should get you that drink you refused while we wait and get into that when Lucien and Callum arrive.”
“Respect, you’ve held up everything you’ve promised, including getting my people medical attention and bringing us to your fortress.” He threw out a hand. “But I got an injured brother. My woman has a member of her family down too, and she’s fucked up with grief. I need to get to her and not do it after waitin’ for Lucien and Callum to get here.”
Abel was grateful Gregor immediately inclined his head.
“Then we’ll begin.”
And then the asshole began, spouting shit about mates destined not only for each other, but to save humanity from enslavement by the evil supernaturals, who had, for centuries, been wanting to make their play and were now preparing to do that.
The mates, known as The Sacred Triumvirate, or The Three, specifically three couples who have eloquent understanding of both supernatural and human existence, being prophesied to engage in what was called The Nobel War and save the world.
Or die fucking trying.
It took a lot more words for the vampire to share this with Abel, but that was the gist.
When he was done, Abel snarled, “Are you fuckin’ kidding me?”
“As I raised Sonia from a child, I love her as my own, and she is as vulnerable to these Prophesies as you and your mate, I wish I were. But I’m not,” Gregor replied.