Chapter Five

Wyn

“Explain it to me again,” he says.

I'm standing in Quint's office on the upper floor of his club, Heat. He's sitting behind his desk, leaning back in his seat staring at me, his fingers steepled in front of him. I sigh and grit my teeth, telling him the entire story once more.

“Correct me if I'm wrong,” Quint says, “but weren't you supposed to be out patrolling?”

“Yeah, but –”

“Did you see something dangerous in the club?” he asks. “Was there a threat to human life?”

“No, but –”

“So, what you're telling me is that you popped into the club to blow off a little steam?” he asks. “Maybe find some willing woman to take home?”

“It's not like that.”

“No?” he asks, his tone growing progressively colder. “Then how is it exactly? Because all I know is that you're knocking a few back in some nightclub instead of doing your job.”

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. This is exactly what I mean about Quint always being up my ass about one thing or another. Here I am, bringing him something significant – something important – and all he's focused on is the fact that I was in a club.

“The streets have been quiet for a few weeks now,” I say. “I ran my patrol earlier in the evening and just wanted to take a few –”

“Yeah, I get it,” he says, leaning on his desk, his eyes boring into mine. “You wanted to shirk your responsibilities and forgo your duties. Again.”

“That's not exactly fair, Warden. I –”

“You have a job to do here, Wyn,” he snaps. “You took an oath to do it. People are depending upon you doing that job. Lives are at stake.”

“I'm aware of my oath, Warden.”

“And yet, you so frequently choose to disregard it.”

I ball my fists up at my side and stare down at the floor, doing my best to control my temper. The last thing I need is to lose it on Warden Quint. That wouldn't go well for me. I may not be the proverbial rocket scientist, but I'm smart enough to know that much. Quint is a legend with a blade. Not to mention the fact that he has the loyalty of all his Rangers. They'd side with him in a heartbeat if it came down to a fight.

But honestly, I don't get the loyalty – Quint is an asshole.

“I brought this to you because it seems significant,” I seethe. “I've never encountered a human with an aura like that before – much less two humans.”

“Perhaps it is,” he says. “But that doesn't discount the fact that you violated your oath. You broke the rules –”

“And if I hadn't, you wouldn't have this information, Warden,” I snap. “If it's significant, if it maybe helps explain why the streets have been so quiet lately, and gives us a heads up about something big going down, does it really matter that I was at a goddamn club?”

“He's right, you know,” came a voice from the doorway behind me.

I turn to see Deyro standing there, his sword strapped across his back and a burlap sack in his hand – he'd obviously just come back from patrol. He looks at me and gives me a little wink before stepping into the office.

“So, you're back to advocating breaking the rules again, Deyro?” Quint asked, arching an eyebrow at him. “I thought you'd wised up.”

“Nah,” he says. “I just can't make life too easy on you, Quint.”

Quint chuckles and laughs, shaking his head. Deyro drops the bag he's carrying on the Warden's desk – it hits with a wet, meaty thud. Quint looks up at him, a question in his eyes. Deyro just shrugs.

“All I'm saying,” Deyro says. “Is that if something is going down, it'd be nice to have a heads up about it. I'd like to have some idea of what's coming for us before it's right in our face. And if we got that information through – unconventional means – so be it.”

“Perhaps,” Quint allows. “But I will not tolerate insubordination, flouting of our rules, and quite frankly, your damn attitude. Do you understand me, Wyn?”

“Yes, sir,” I say. “It won't happen again.”

More like – I won't let you catch me again, is what I'm actually thinking. There doesn't seem to be a point of patrolling as hard and often as he wants us to when there's nothing going on out there. The Wardens all want us to blend into human society seamlessly. They want us to know and understand the beings we're charged with protecting. What better way to get to know and understand them than by interacting with them in their natural environments?

“If it does, there will be punishment, Wyn,” he says, catching and holding my gaze. “You will leave me no choice. I cannot have this kind of behavior in my Rangers. Is that clear?”

“Crystal,” I say.

Quint gives me a long look before turning his attention to Deyro. “What's in the bag?”

The big Ranger shrugs. “I honestly don't know,” he says. “I've never seen anything like it before and was actually hoping you could help me figure it out.”

A look of curiosity crosses the Warden's face as he opens up the bag and takes out the contents. My eyes slightly wider, I stare at the head he'd removed and set on top of the burlap sack. It's more oblong shaped than round, the skin is gray and mottled, the eyes large and black – there are literally no whites to the eyes. There is a smattering of hair on the head, though it's more or less bald – it looks like the hair just fell out in clumps.

In most ways, it looks like a human's head – and yet, it doesn't.

“What in the hell is that?” I ask.

Deyro chuckles. “I'm wondering if this is an alien,” he says. “Maybe this is what's responsible for abducting people out of their trailer parks and shoving probes up their asses.”

Quint gives him a stern look – but can't quite keep the small smile from tugging at the corner of his mouth. He looks closer at the head, turning it around to get a better view of it. I watch him closely and can see the wheels turning in his head. And it's subtle – very subtle – but I see a look of alarm in his eyes. Or if not alarm, uncertainty. He knows something.

“Where did you get this?” Quint asks.

“Off the shoulders of one of these things,” he jokes.

Quint shoots him a look – clearly not in the mood for jokes. Deyro nods, the smile slipping from his face.

“I came across this thing in an alley a few miles from here,” he says, his tone serious. “It wasn't attacking anybody, but this clearly isn't something that should be running around in the streets. So, I killed it.”

“I'm going to need to take this to Chondelai,” he says. “I need to consult with the Keeper.”

“What is it?” I ask. “I can see in your eyes that you know something.”

Anger flashes in Quint's eyes when he looks at me. Clearly, I haven't earned the right to ask questions of him yet.

“I don't know anything for certain,” he says. “And unlike you, I prefer to have solid information to work with rather than jumping to conclusions.”

“Is he right though?” Deyro asks. “Do you have an idea of what this is?”

Quint gives him a tight smile. “I might,” he says. “But I hesitate to mention it simply because I'm not certain.”

Deyro nods, accepting the Warden's words – much to my chagrin. I want to know.

“Tell me one thing,” Deyro says. “Is it bad?”

Quint stands up and sighs, placing the head back into the bag, not answering for a long moment. He looks up at us and the expression on his face is inscrutable – although I can see the tightness around his mouth and eyes. He's clearly nervous.

Which, in turn, makes me nervous since Quint is not an easy man to rattle.

“If I'm right,” he finally says, “this is bad. Very, very bad. Zarik is in charge while I'm gone.”

He picks up the bag and heads for the door, Deyro and I watching him go. There's a sense of unease in the air between us. A sense of uncertainty.

I suddenly have a bad feeling that our little respite might be coming to an end and a fight is looming in the near distance.