"How much of that did you already know?" Dane asks Ambrose as we walk down the long, paved pathway to where we'd left our cars.
"The basic facts," Ambrose replies. "Not the details."
"Did you know the baby's name?"
He shakes his head. "No. Didn't even know she had one, actually. The way Aengus told it, I thought she died before she had a chance to be given one."
"Did Jack know?" I ask. The baby would have been Jack's sister, and her murder the cause of his mother's death, after all.
"No," Ambrose sighs, "thankfully he did not. Aengus told me the whole sordid tale the day I gave him the news of Jack's own death. Jack may have been the only person Aengus ever really loved—his precious first-born son—though they'd been estranged ever since Jack rescued me from the hell his father put me through. Aengus probably came the closest he ever did to feeling something like guilt that day, and for whatever reason he unburdened himself on me. It was after that I cut ties with the family for good. Well, until recently, that is."
"On the list you gave me, Aengus is marked as deceased," Dane points out. "How'd he die?"
Ambrose shrugs. "Don't know, for sure. He made a mistake, you see. Like the rest of the family, immortality was part of his goal, but while the others all asked for 'eternal youth,' or 'unfading beauty,' or some such thing, Aengus asked for 'deathlessness.' I suppose he thought he was being clever, but Ainach gave him exactly what he asked for and nothing more, and eventually Aengus learned that not being able to die was less 'gift' than 'curse.'"
We've reached the spot where we'd parked our cars by now, and he pauses, squinting up through the leaves of the old maple tree beneath which we stand.
"After I told him of Jack's fate, he tried to take his own life, and that's when he discovered his mistake. He couldn't die. By that time, too, he'd begun to age—the only one of that lot to show any evidence of his years. It was a horrific thought—that he'd grow older and older, but never meet an end. So he decided he'd summon Ainach again, on his own this time, and give the gift back."
"On his own?" I ask. "I thought he needed the 'Circle of Nine,' and all that?"
"That's to bargain with a dragon. To merely speak with one is a simpler affair, though not something a man who values his life should attempt. Aengus was no longer such a man, so..."
"And is that possible?" Julian asks. "To give back a dragon's gift, I mean?"
Again, Ambrose shrugs. "Must be. Aengus announced his intentions and then he disappeared, and neither hide nor hair of him's been seen since."
"Absence of evidence is not evidence of absence," I point out.
Ambrose turns to me, his mouth curled in a little smile. "Right you are, but Aengus was a meddlesome bastard. Were he alive, I doubt he'd have managed to keep the fact quiet all these years. Besides, he'd be..." He pauses, looking up at the sky as he calculates, "...nearly one hundred and fifty years old by now. He'd be a right monster, for sure."
"What about Rosie?" Dane asks. "Is it possible she or her baby could have survived the fire somehow?"
"I don't know," Ambrose answers, rubbing his fingers across his mouth. "That all happened seventeen years before I was born, remember. It's not as though I witnessed it. But it does seem unlikely: if she was possessed by a dragon, and burned with dragonfire... I don't see how there would be anything left. But then again..."
"Yeah." Dane scratches the back of his head. "The motive's clear—vengeance—and the connection between 'Kitty' and the cat's paw sign makes sense, but the timeline's weird. If Rosie survived somehow, why would she wait so long to get her revenge? And what would she have against you, anyway?"
Ambrose shakes his head, eyes fixed on Mattie's sleekly modern house. "Again, I cannae say. But I've a feeling that whoever the thief may be—whether Rosie or someone else—vengeance is not their only motivation. The collection of the relics hints at something more—something they want. As for what that may be... Well, your guess is as good as mine."
"Shit," Dane swears. Like Ambrose, he's staring back at Mattie's house, angled brows pinched. "I don't like this. The thief's got us reacting instead of acting, but I don't know how to change that. Suggestions?"
Julian and I wear similarly blank expressions, but Ambrose draws a long breath and releases it with a sigh.
"If it were not for the possibility that Noah might be endangered by it, I'd say let 'em have at it," he says. "As far as I'm concerned, whatever the thief has planned is likely no more than the lot of them deserve."
"You know I can't do that," Dane answers quickly. "regardless of who the victim is, a crime is still a crime."
Ambrose raises a brow. "Don't tell me you never looked the other way while some scumbag got what was coming to 'em?"
Dane shrugs. "After the fact, sure, but not if I could stop it from happening."
"You're a better man than I, then. Regardless, I may not care much for my 'family,' such as it is, but I do care for Noah, and whether the thief has eyes on him or not, I don't intend to take a chance. I'd suggest we put some distance between us—pretend we've no connection—but I don't think that's a possibility, now," he says, and looks at me thoughtfully, his head tilted a little to one side.
"Why not?" Dane asks. "Even if you're potential mates, that doesn't mean you can't be apart. It wouldn't be fun, but it's not impossible."
"Wolves 'Choose' their mates, is that not so?" Ambrose returns. "And a 'Mating' seals the bond?"
Dane crosses his arms over his chest and frowns. Like most Wolves, he doesn't like to discuss such things with outsiders.
"Yeah," he says, "but Noah's not an alpha, so he can have... uh... 'relations' without necessarily forming a mate-bond."
"I'm right here, you know," I say, scowling at him and feeling uncomfortably warm.
Nothing like having your big brother discuss your sex life with your lover right in front of you.
"Be that as it may," Ambrose says, ignoring me, "dragons and those born of them are similar in their ways. I admit I didn't immediately recognize Noah as my Match—not consciously, at least—but after we slept together I realized it. Noah may not have 'Chosen' me, yet, but my heart has chosen him. Think of the traditional image of a dragon's hoard—that massive pile of gold and precious things. Well, Noah would be the biggest, brightest gem in the whole lot. Another dragon will see that at a glance, and given the way Thaddeus died, another dragon seems to be what we're dealing with."
My mind is stuck in a sort of confused wobble, halfway between mortification at the fact Ambrose just told Dane we'd slept together, and a sort of happy surprise that he'd declared it so easily.
Dane is watching him with narrowed eyes. "Alright. So what do you propose?"
Ambrose sighed once more, leaning against his car with his arms crossed and looking decidedly unhappy. "It's the last thing I want to do, you understand," he said. "But I think the best course of action is to keep all the remaining targets in one place. It might seem counter-intuitive—all the eggs in one basket, so to speak—but going it alone hasn't worked for anyone so far. If we're all in one place, we can look out for one another, and it will be all the more obvious if one among us is up to no good."
"Where?" Dane asks.
"Rowan's house. My house, that is. It's the biggest, I think—has the most rooms, anyway."
"Will they agree?" Dane looks as skeptical as he sounds. I wonder the same thing. From what I've seen so far, the Thornes and Oakfields don't seem like the most cooperative or amenable bunch.
"I guess we'll see," Ambrose replies with a shrug. "I think it'd be best if the proposal came from you, though... Detective," he adds, lifting a brow.
"Fine," Dane agrees, scowling. "I'll contact the remaining targets this afternoon and let you know what they say."
He turns towards his old SUV, pulling the keys from his pocket, and Julian follows, climbing in on the passenger side.
Ambrose and I prepare to depart as well, but as Ambrose opens his door, Dane turns back and calls across the space between us.
"Don't think this means I trust you, Thorne," he says. "You hurt my brother, and I'll tear your heart out and make you eat it."
The corners of Ambrose's mouth constrict with a barely contained smile. "I believe it," he says. "Though how you keep a man alive long enough to eat his own heart, I hardly know."
"I'll figure it out," Dane replies, sounding disturbingly serious.
Ambrose nods, his eyes lighting with inner fire. "You ought to know this then: a dragon will die defending his treasure, and he'll burn anything and everything that tries to keep him from it. A bit possessive and obsessive, perhaps, but nothing's safer than a dragon's heart."
Dane nods in return, then gets in his vehicle and drives off, leaving me stranded in the post-confrontational awkwardness.
"Well, little wolf," Ambrose says, offering me an oddly self-conscious smile, "let's go home. We've some work to do before we're ready to receive guests. I'm not looking forward to hosting this particular crowd, but there is a bright silver lining, nonetheless."
"There is?" I ask, grimacing at the thought of having 'my' new home invaded by so many unpleasant strangers so soon.
"Yes," he nods. "You see, there are a sufficient number of rooms to house them all, but it will require a small adjustment."
"What?" I ask, wondering if he's going to ask me to move furniture or something.
"You and I, little wolf, shall have to share," he says with a wink, and grins.
"Oh," I say, and turn to look out the window, but not before I know he sees the beginnings of my own matching smile.