Lucky Break by Chloe Neill Read Free Book Online

rustling of turning pages echoed in the background.
    â€œThat’s them. Vampires and shifters, respectively. Elk Valley, Colorado.”
    â€œI’m scanning the index.”
    â€œOf what? The
Big Book of Inter-Sup Feuds
?”
    â€œNo. We don’t have that one. The update subscription’s too expensive. We do carry the
Directory of Notable North American Feuds
.”
    As he sounded utterly serious—and rarely was anything otherwise—I kept the follow-up question to myself. Namely: How was there a cottage industry in supernatural feud directories?
    â€œAll right, I’ve got it. Fiona McKenzie and Christophe Marchand. She disappeared, and he . . . Oh. Damn,” he said, probably reading about Christophe’s rather depressing end.
    â€œYeah,” I said. “Bernard Marchand, we think, was the next one killed. He was one of the Clan’s founders.”
    â€œCorrect. And there were others. Many others. Some arrests, some disappearances, some thefts.”
    I thought about the missing object Vincent had mentioned. “Does it mention the brooch?”
    A pause, then, “Only that the vampires believed Fiona took it. But no sign of it, or her, was ever found.”
    â€œSo where the hell had they gone?” I wondered aloud. Had someone killed her and stolen it? Or had Fiona simply taken the brooch and started over somewhere else?
    â€œI don’t have the foggiest. But we’re an hour ahead of you, and dawn is on its way. You want me to send you the rest of the file?”
    â€œYeah, that’d be great.” Opting to be proactive, I added, “And if you’ve got some kind of general report on the Marchand Clan, could you send that along, too? Ethan’s curious.”
    â€œEasily done,” he said.
    Thank goodness something was.
    ***
    While I waited for Ethan to return, I carefully cleaned my katana blade with oil and rice paper, just as I’d been taught. I’d just resheathed it when Ethan walked into the bedroom. He closed the bedroom door behind him, locked it. Just in case.
    â€œGabriel?” I asked.
    â€œOn his way,” he said, kicking off his shoes and pulling his shirt over his head.
    â€œWhat did he have to say?”
    â€œMostly grunting.” Ethan unbuttoned his trousers and placed them across the bench at the end of the bed. “He was unhappy with the interruption, less so the reason for it. They should be here by dusk tomorrow. And in the meantime, our temporary human guard is outside.”
    â€œIn weird Clan clothes?”
    â€œActually, yes,” Ethan said with a nod. “She may not yet be a member, but she’s adopted the dress.”
    As automatic shades began to descend over the windows, a sign that dawn was on its way, Ethan walked to the painting and let his eyes roam over it.
    â€œIt’s a beautiful work,” he said.
    â€œIt’s a beautiful valley. Not entirely peaceful, and I haven’t seen any elk, but quite a spectacle.”
    My phone signaled a new message. I glanced down, found a snippet about the Marchand Clan from the Librarian. Since he’d evidently worked to stay awake past dawn to get us the information—a possible but not entirely pleasant undertaking for a vampire—I gave him props for his dedication.
    â€œDossier on the Clan from the House,” I told Ethan. “He’s going to send me details on the feud tomorrow.”
    I scanned the screen as Ethan nodded and sat down beside me.
    â€œThe Clan is currently unregistered,” I read. “I assume that’s a reference to the North American Vampire Registry. Estimated date of establishment is 1875, which matches what Vincent told us. Fifteen current members, down from a previous max of nineteen.”
    â€œNot a kingdom, then,” Ethan said, turning to put his back against the headboard, stretch legs atop the duvet.
    â€œNot a kingdom,” I agreed. “Vincent