“Him?” Murphy asked.

Oleg shrugged again. “Or her. Zara will use anyone. But the motivation will be financial, I’m certain.”

Anne asked, “Who makes money from Rens being dead?”

Tywyll piped up from across the room, “I do. But I didn’t kill him.”

Murphy shook his head. “Rens wasn’t likely killed for money, but because of what he knew.” He looked at Oleg. “Did Anker know about Zara?”

“The Dutchman? Probably. If he was interested to look, there are plenty of people who might talk. It wasn’t a secret, though Zara does not like to gain attention. She prefers to work behind the scenes.”

Who, of the remaining summit attendees, was poised to make money as Zara continued to spread Elixir? Murphy thought. Jetta? The Scandinavian was the least likely. Most of her financial investments were energy related. Leonor and Jean were the only two left, and both would make money from Elixir infection because both produced blood-wine.

As did Terry.

“Do you know where Zara is?” asked Anne.

“Yes and no. I don’t think she leaves Greek territory often, because she’d be fair game. Laskaris hasn’t officially declared her under his aegis, because that would make him accountable for her actions. But she’s not under mine, either. As long as she stays near Athens, she’ll be protected. But other than that, I have no idea. There are many places she could be hiding in comfort. They have so many islands it’s ridiculous. They’ve long been a haven for those looking to disappear.”

“But Athens is protecting her?” Now that Murphy’s anger had a focus, it began to burn brighter. “This drug she’s been producing and shipping has killed hundreds. Possibly thousands now. Vampires. Mortals. She’s poisoned them, sent others out. Whoever was shipping into Ireland for her has killed humans and vampires under my aegis. Most recently, a good man whose only fault was being curious and wanting to help me.”

“Tell me”—Oleg leaned forward—“are you prepared to go to war with Athens, Irishman?”

Murphy had to bite back a growl because he knew he wasn’t. He didn’t have the resources to attack Athens, though he’d certainly do what he could to harm them in business.

“You know I’m not,” he bit out. “But you could.”

“I could.” Oleg nodded. “And I might. I haven’t decided yet.”

“Murphy.” Anne squeezed his hand. “Oleg has asked that—in exchange for him being so open about his daughter—that we leave Zara to him.”

“And let her get away with poisoning our kind and tainting the blood supply?” Murphy was steps away from livid. The water drew to him, dampening his clothes where he sat. Anne held his hand firmly.

“Zara will not be ignored,” Anne said. “Not anymore.”

Oleg said, “Find the one responsible for the deaths in London. Take your vengeance on those working with her. But Zara is my blood. Leave her to me.”

“Then get your blood under control, Russian.”

The booth heated immediately, though Oleg’s expression didn’t flinch. Murphy felt the steam rise on his skin where the Russian’s fire met his water. Tywyll muttered something across the room, and the heat died back slightly.

“Out of respect for her”—Oleg nodded at Anne—“you live. But do not speak of things you know nothing about. And pray you do not meet me without your mate, for I do not tolerate disrespect. I have nothing more to say to you.”

The Russian stood and left the booth.

“Move!” Anne said, pushing him. “Let me out.”

Reluctantly, Murphy slid out of her way and Anne ran to the door. She grabbed Oleg’s hand before he could leave the pub.

“Oleg, please—”

He said something in Russian.

“I know,” Anne said. “But he has lost people who looked to him for protection. You of all vampires understand this.”

“Fine.” Oleg sent a withering look toward Murphy, who leaned against the side of the bench with his arms crossed over his chest. “He is rash, lapochka. You should teach him wisdom.”

She smiled. “Because I’ve been so successful with you?”

Oleg put his hand on Anne’s cheek, cupping it. Murphy stood up straighter, but Tywyll caught his eye, shaking his head deliberately.

Murphy gritted his teeth and stayed put.

“You have taught me more than you know, Anne O’Dea.”

“Oleg—”

“But I must bid you farewell now.”

Anne froze. “I’m not going to see you again, am I?”

A wicked smile curled the corner of Oleg’s lip. “Will you run away with me tonight?”

Anne sighed. “The answer is still no.”

“Then no, my friend, you will not.”

The Russian bent down carefully, kissing her cheeks before he straightened. He said something quietly in Russian. Anne nodded. Then Oleg nodded to Tywyll and walked out the door.

WHEN Murphy, Anne, and Tywyll made their way outside, all the previously drowned guards were standing mutely by the riverbank, their faces written with embarrassment. Murphy went to stand in front of them, his hands hanging loosely in his pockets.

“The Russians all leave?”

“Yes, boss.”

“Took off in a boat,” another said. “High-end. Headed away from the city.”