“You didn’t stop them?”
“Lord Hades had already summoned me to Tuscany. I was on my way out the door to answer that summons when I bumped into Ewen.” The bitterness leaked through despite Lamont’s best efforts. “I texted him constantly while I was in Tuscany, but the texts remained unread. By the time I got back and started looking, he’d been gone for five days or more, and I lost his scent. For all I know, he’s been held captive since the night I saw him. His phone’s clearly dead now. Apparently, his apartment’s empty. The people who took him know what they’re doing.”
Coda exhaled slowly. “Clearly, you haven’t claimed each other yet, or you’d know where he was.”
“I couldn’t claim him, because I was in Tuscany, posing for your social media campaign while my mate was being held captive somewhere in this city.” Lamont’s voice dropped. “So yes, Coda. I’m collecting on that favor. Find him.”
The line went quiet except for the distant sound of typing. Lamont waited, his hound coiled tight and ready to spring the moment they had a direction to move.
“I understand,” Coda said finally. “I’m pulling up Lord Zeus’s satellite network. Give me Ewen’s full name and date of birth if you have it.”
Lamont repeated what he knew, which wasn’t much. Ewen Cross, American, journalist, worked at The Times. He didn’t have a birthdate, didn’t know Ewen’s middle name, and had barely exchanged two dozen words with the man before everything went to hell.
His mate. Even if that wasn’t true, Lamont knew he was doing the right thing. His hound had never cared about anyone but his pack mates - had never felt a pull to be with someone so intently before. Sure, he might get into shit with more than a few godly persons if it turned out the mate comment wasn’t true, but Lamont was fine with apologizing after the fact. Lamont had let the man down – gone against his gut reaction when he’d left Ewen to face danger alone - and mate or not, Lamont was going to find him.
“I’ve got him.” Coda’s voice pulled Lamont back to the present. “He’s...actually, that’s weird.”
“What’s weird?”
“His location hasn’t moved in days. Same building, same coordinates.” Keys clicked rapidly. “Based on the thermal signature, he’s in a basement. Underground level, maybe twelve feet down.”
Lamont’s heart kicked against his ribs. “Where?”
“In an industrial area on the east side of Cairo. That’ll give you an idea of where to start searching. But Lamont, I can’t give you specifics. The rules…”
“Are you seriously going to lecture me about rules right now?” The sound barrier around Lamont’s table flickered, his magic responding to the surge of rage. He clamped down hard, forcing it to stabilize. “You just told me my mate is in a basement somewhere in this city. People who are willing to make a journalist disappear are holding him. Every hour I waste increases the chance they’ll kill him.”
“I know, but…”
“You owe me, Coda.” Lamont leaned forward, voice dropping even though he knew no one could hear him. “After all I did for you in Tuscany. Don’t you realize that if you’d found out who was hunting Giorgio and Enda any faster, instead of wasting your time collecting likes and shares, Ewen could have been saved by now. I’d never let a pack mate or his mate down, and I’d never go against Lord Hades, but in all that time I was running around for you, my mate was in danger.”
Coda muttered something that sounded like a curse in ancient Greek. “Understood. But when Lord Zeus finds out I accessed the satellite network for this, I’m telling him you coerced me.”
“Tell him whatever you want. Coordinates. Now….please,” he added, because even angry Lamont did appreciate any help he could get.
“Pulling them up.” More typing, then Coda rattled off a string of numbers. “That’s the exact location, accurate to within three feet. The building’s registered as an abandoned textile factory, but the thermal readings show at least six people inside. Maybe more on upper floors where the signatures get muddy.”
Lamont committed the coordinates to memory, his hound already calculating distance and translocation points. “Six people?”
“Give or take. And Lamont?” Coda hesitated. “The thermal signature for your mate is...weak. Weaker than it should be for someone his size. Either he’s injured or…”
“Don’t.” Lamont stood, dropping cash on the table for the barely touched coffee. “Don’t finish that sentence.”
“Right. Good luck.”
Lamont disconnected without responding, already pulling his magic for translocation. The sound barrier dissolved as he left the café, stepping into an alley that was mercifully empty. Perfect. No one would notice when he vanished.
His hound pushed forward, eager to start hunting in earnest. Ten days of worry, eating through Lamont’s control and finally, they had a direction. The coordinates burned in his mind, a fixed point he could lock onto.
But he forced himself to pause, to think. Six people minimum, and Ewen’s thermal signature reading weak. Charging in without a plan was stupid, and stupidity got people killed. His mate needed him to be functional, not reckless.
Lamont closed his eyes and reached for his magic, feeling it coil through his body like smoke. Hellhounds could create objects, translocate across distances, and were immune to magic from anyone other than a god. But they were also built for hunting, and right now, Lamont needed to hunt smart.
He’d go in human first, he decided, and assess the situation. If Ewen was injured…you know he’s injured, that’s what a weak thermal signature meant… The six guards or whoever they werecould be a problem, especially if they were human. They’d be potential witnesses.
I can’t kill them without permission from the Fates. Lamont tilted his head, hoping for some form of divine message, but his head only held his muddled thoughts.
I can’t show up as a hellhound and scare the shit out of them. That was really tempting, but that sort of revelation would have him pulled into Lord Hades’s office before he’d have time to blink.