3
Reine
Kestrel's phone went straight to voice mail. Lawrence made a call of his own and arranged for us to rendezvous with a worried mountain lion shifter.
Corey met us at the crystal store where we'd had the seance that had put us in touch with a dark Fae who called himself Troubadour, and who had told us to "ally with fangs." That reminded me—the vampire club co-owner had expressed interest in helping us. She would be a last resort. Vampires rated just above Dark Fae on the trustworthy scale, which was to say, almost not trustworthy at all.
The were-lion's dark blond hair stood up from his scalp like he'd been running his hands through it, and his eyes were red-rimmed and sported bags underneath them. A golden layer of stubble lined his face. Worry and sorrow came from him in waves,
