Ferion wasn’t in the first room they searched. Nor was he in the second, or the third.

She picked up her pace, shouldering between people as her gaze darted everywhere. From time to time, Graydon’s muscled arm shot out to block someone from approaching her.

He’s not here. Distress flooded her. He’s not here.

Take a deep breath, Bel. Graydon put a hand on her shoulder in a solid, reassuring grip. He drew her to the nearest wall, shielding her from curious stares with his body.

With the fingers of one hand, she lifted the edge of her hood so that she could peer up at him. His rough face was grim, his eyes hard. He looked entirely different from the gentle, easygoing man she had seen earlier at the masque.

Ferion might not be here now, but he was recently, he told her. I can catch hints of his scent, even through the stink in this place. We need to check upstairs, and in the back rooms. He paused. Will you allow me to do that for you?

There was something about how he phrased the question, along with the expression in his eyes, that sent her back to their earlier conversation.

They had walked through all the public gaming rooms, but Malfeasance pandered to more than just the gambling vice. There were drugs here, and somewhere, there would be rooms for sex.

Graydon was trying to spare her, in case Ferion might still be here after all.

Within the span of a moment, her imagination ran riot. Images of Ferion drugged or naked crowded her mind.

Abruptly, she shoved them away and decided to let Graydon help her. If Ferion really was still here, she didn’t need to see her son in such a state.

She nodded. I would appreciate it if you would.

He hesitated, looking down at her. I don’t like to leave you here alone.

She touched his hand as it rested on her shoulder. Remember, I can take care of myself.

I’m quite sure you can, but I still don’t have to like it. His fingers tightened. The sooner I go, the sooner I can return. I’ll be as quick as I can.

Thank you.

She watched him leave. For such a massively built man, he was remarkably quick and light on his feet. His powerful frame was thick with muscle, yet his movements were as lithe and sinuous as the cat in his Wyr form.

As he disappeared, the atmosphere in the crowded room underwent an almost unidentifiable change. The room felt colder without his presence.

Repressing a shudder, she turned on her heel to scan the area. She took note of the number of males who began to watch her, some slyly, while others perused her with open assessment, even avid curiosity.

Opening herself partially to the psychic currents, she caught snatches of thought and intention. Some wondered why she kept her identity hidden. One or two took note of the unremarkable quality of her cloak and dismissed her as a potential mark. Others fantasized about the body her cloak hid.

A few contemplated rape.

She regarded them all coldly. If you wandered into my Wood, she thought, not a single one of you would escape alive.

One of the men approached her with an unsteady gait.

“Ooh, you looks like you might be a tasty bird underneaf all that,” he said. A strong scent of brandy washed over her. “’Ow much d’you charge for the night?”

She scanned him, but he wasn’t one of the would-be rapists. Dismissing him as innocuous, she pulled a gentle swath of Power between them.

An expression of confusion crossed his face, and his eyebrows drew together. He turned away, muttering to himself. After wandering along the edge of the room, he shouldered his way into a game of dice.

She sent a second glance over the room. Her small spell of misdirection had shaken off the attention of several of the others, but she hadn’t rid herself of all of them.

That was the problem with such spells. They worked on some people, but not everybody. Someone with a strong enough, determined mind could break through them.

She couldn’t stand and do nothing while she waited for Graydon to return. Focusing her attention on the games, she tried to imagine what Ferion might do.

Or at least what she thought Ferion might do. It was painful to admit that she was no longer quite sure.

She did know he favored games of both dice and cards. As she considered the various tables, she noticed the presence of several more armed Orcs standing at attention at regular intervals along the walls.

While she studied the Orcs, a well-dressed Vampyre male gave her a long assessing glance before he turned back to watching the tables.

He was so clearly not like any of the other males who were watching her, she opened her mind again to sense his intentions and got the impression of a cold, businesslike mind. The Vampyre wasn’t at Malfeasance to gamble. He was working.

Coming to a decision, she strode toward him. While he did not appear to notice her approach, he swiveled to face her as she grew near.

The Vampyre bowed. He was not a young one. He had some strength of presence and an aura of accomplished Power.

“My lady.” His smooth smile contained a hint of sharp tooth. “We are honored that you would grace us with your presence. Are you interested in joining a game? Perhaps a discreet one, in a private room.”

So much for trying to keep her identity a secret. Still, one person recognizing her was not the same level of disaster as it would be if the whole room had.

She told him telepathically, I am not here to play any of your games, but I would appreciate a few answers to some questions.

He cocked his head and switched to telepathy. Please, do tell me more. It would be my pleasure to service you in any way you desire.

His oily manner ran along the surface of her skin. Repressing a shudder, she snapped, Ferion Thalinil. He was here at some point in the recent past. Do you know where he is?

Ferion is your son, is he not? The Vampyre prowled close, eyes flickering with a predatory gleam. How heartwarming to see such familial concern. It speaks well of you, my lady.