“There’s been a fight,” he said.

Was it that obvious? Caleb must have changed his clothes on the way over—he was clean. Ben had on a new clean shirt, but rusted streaks of dried blood still marred his face. Most of the blood was mine. My shirt and jeans were torn, soiled with mud and grass stains. I was cradling my injured arm, which sported an impressive red welt where the wound had been. Cormac would know it had happened recently.

“You two okay?” His voice was calm, and he eyed Caleb with suspicion.

“Yeah,” I said, and Ben nodded. “I just got a little cut up.”

“I should have been there—”

“No,” Ben and I said at once.

“It’s good that you weren’t,” Ben said, finishing the thought for both of us. “It was all werewolves, and you don’t have any guns—it was a mess.”

Cormac considered, then nodded. “Right. Want to tell me what’s happening then?”

“You trust him?” Caleb said. “He’s not one of us.”

“We trust him,” I said, my gaze on Cormac.

“You can’t bring him in on this,” the alpha said.

“If there’s trouble, you’re not leaving me out,” Cormac said.

I wanted to tell Cormac no. To protect him. He would say he was doing the same. We were a pack, right? I looked at Ben, who didn’t seem inclined to argue. But he and Cormac had been a team for a long time. Including him no doubt seemed natural.

“All right, then,” I said. “Introductions: Cormac, this is Caleb, alpha werewolf of the British Isles. Caleb, this is Cormac. He’s—” Words failed me, as they usually did when I tried to describe him.

“He’s family,” Ben said.

They regarded each other, gazes suspicious, yet curious. They both obviously had questions that they weren’t going to ask. That was fine. I just had to be sure I kept myself in between them.

A couple of Ned’s house staff worked at night, natch. The driver, Andy, and one of the housekeepers, Sara. She was in the kitchen; I begged some extra tea and snacks from her, and she seemed happy to provide.

The four of us retreated with our spoils to one of the smaller rooms in the back of the house. It was cozy, with chairs pulled up around a fireplace where a heater had been installed. We could imagine we were alone. The vampires would retreat to a set of basement rooms when dawn came.

“Tell me what happened,” Cormac said.

We explained our evening, talking over each other in a couple of places with our own take on events. The shadow conference of vampires had turned violent, one faction rising up to try to take out Ned. Cormac sat back, listening, hand on his chin.

“My first thought?” Cormac said. “Get out. You’re outnumbered. They got the jump on you once, they’re not going to just stop. You want to stay safe, get out, get home.”

“He’s got a point,” Caleb said. “You’re not so bad after all.”

“You don’t think they’ll just follow us?” Ben said. “Send another posse after us?”

“There’s that. But you’d be on your home turf.”

“Or we could stop them now,” I said. “The plan isn’t to fight. We want to sow a little dissention in the ranks.”

“You’re going to try talking them out of this war of yours, aren’t you?” Cormac said. He held a cup of tea, the vintage china looking out of place in his calloused grip. He wrinkled his nose at the liquid, but drank anyway. Maybe Amelia would help him develop a taste for the stuff.

“It’s not my war,” I muttered. “But yeah.”

“I think she’s got a chance at it,” Caleb said.

“In my experience, werewolves don’t stand still long enough to listen to much talk,” he said, setting the cup down.

“You didn’t see her earlier this week, at the convocation,” Ben said. “I think they were all so surprised they didn’t know which way to jump.”

“Yeah,” the hunter said. “That sounds about right.” Caleb made a gesture as if to say, you see?

“What do you want me to do?” Cormac said.

Stay in the car? “Keep watch? You know the kind of defenses panicking vampires are likely to have. We don’t want any surprises.”

“Just what do you know about panicking vampires?” Caleb asked.

“They’re like anything else,” Cormac said. “You corner them, they get stupid.”

“When this is all done, would you mind letting me buy you a pint and wring some stories out of you?”

Cormac just smiled.

Caleb rose from his seat and said, “First thing to do is check in with the scouts. That’ll give us some idea of who’s on the move and where we should go next. If you’ll excuse me.” He drew his phone from a pocket and scrolled through its numbers as he left the room.

Cormac gazed after him. “Alpha of the British Isles, you said? That’s impressive.”

“Yep. Don’t look at him like you’re staring through gun sights,” I said, and he chuckled.

“By the way, where’ve you been?” Ben asked. “Dinner with the Parkers couldn’t have lasted until four in the morning.”

“No. They have an early bedtime with the kids and all, so we went out looking for ghosts.”

I had to ask. “Like, real ghosts?”

“Amelia wanted to check up on some spots she knew from before. The Tower, along the river, Whitechapel.”

“Jack the Ripper?”

“Among other things, yeah.”

“Huh.” He wasn’t going to keep talking unless I prompted, and I was dying to know. “And … how did the dinner go?” Ben and I leaned in to hear the answer.

“It was … awkward,” he said. “Not bad. But you know, trying to make small talk channeling someone’s dead relative…” He made an annoyed movement like he had an itch on his back. “I keep asking how I got myself into this. Stuff like this, what I’ve been doing? Nice dinner at home with the family? Never would have thought of it.” His expression was confused, wondering. Like he really had just woken up from a nap and found himself in another country. “Anyway, his wife got out the photo album and Amelia ID’d faces in old pictures. Broke a little ice that way. The kids are cute. For kids, you know.”