It’s not losing two employees, Anne. It’s the knowledge those employees had.

Murphy did have a point. Terry’s blood-wine had taken a giant leap forward when he’d hired Jean’s winemaker. And if Leonor had hired his other man… It was a form of industrial espionage. Hardly unexpected in the vampire world, but still costly. Added to the financial loss was the loss of face. The Frenchman was constantly battling immortal factions in Paris and Lyon. He had little stability in his home country. Terry’s underhanded dealings had damaged their relationship, possibly far more than Terry or Gemma had realized.

“Patrick?” she called softly.

He turned and held out his hand. Anne went to him, leaving Carwyn and Brigid sitting near the mast where Tywyll and a young human piloted the ship.

“What is it?” he said, pulling her closer when the cool breeze gusted over the river. “Are you cold?”

“No, of course not. Why does Jean travel in a reefer?”

“He doesn’t. At least, not officially. I imagine Terry has no idea this boat is docked in the port.”

But her father knew. Of course her father knew. Not that he considered it a priority to share information unless someone asked very nicely and followed the question up with gold.

“Do we know how many he might have on board?”

“No, but your father says there are more human guards than anything else.”

She sighed. “This seems like a waste of time. Shouldn’t we go back to town and help Terry? The Dutch—”

A low rumble sounded from his throat. “Terry knows exactly what to do with Jean if he is the one behind this.”

“Rens’s brother—”

“If Jean is the one coordinating Elixir shipping in the North Atlantic, Ireland has the first claim. We lost the first vampires and the first humans to Elixir death. Jean Desmarais is mine. The Dutch can take their revenge elsewhere.”

Anne stood silent. She knew it wasn’t merely vengeance that urged her mate on. It was standing, as well. Ireland had been hit first, and she had the first blood claim. If Jean Desmarais was guilty, the night was going to turn very, very bloody.

DOCKS, in Anne’s experience, were never truly quiet. They bustled at all times of night, though she’d become a stranger to them in her time away from Murphy. From the great steam vessels he’d inherited from his sire to the modern oil-fed tankers, he owned some of them all. And though he’d been born on land, the ocean had become his second home.

Jean Desmarais’s ship was a midsized reefer, a refrigerated ship ostensibly used to ship luxury foodstuffs like caviar and cheese. Whether it was carrying anything else was the question Murphy wanted to answer.

“Go by the water, lad,” Tywyll said, coiling a length of rope around one arm as his young human assistant held the boat steady in the evening chop. “Too many blasted humans on the docks.”

“As I don’t have anyone here on my payroll, I’d have to agree,” Murphy said. “I’ll swim over and see what the situation is. Give you the signal if you can approach.”

Murphy stripped off his shirt and toed off his shoes before slipping into the black water with deadly grace. Within moments, she saw him at the side of the vessel. With a silent surge, the water beneath him pressed up, lifting Murphy to the lower deck before it sank back into sea. He disappeared for a moment, and Anne knew he was scouting the deck of the ship.

After only a few minutes, he was back, waving to them. Tywyll steered the barge closer, and the young man took a length of rope and tossed it to Murphy, who quickly tied the length to the railing. Brigid was the first to cross, followed by Carwyn scrambling across the rope with unexpected speed. Anne was just about to cross before her father pulled her aside.

“Be careful.”

“We’re just looking around, Da.”

Tywyll’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t like this. The boat’s too quiet-like.”

“You worry.”

“Aye, about my girls.” Tywyll nodded toward the boat. “You and the lad. Yer good, then?”

She nodded.

“And he makes ye happy.”

“He does.”

Her sire nodded. “He’s grown, but he’s still got a temper. Mind you, temper ain’t a bad trait to have for a long life. Keeps you moving when things look dim. A bit of hot blood never hurt a vampire as long as he knows how to rein it.”

“Are we done, Da? I think they’re waiting for me.”

Tywyll sniffed. “I’m yer da. They can wait.”

“Tywyll—”

“I’ll wait for ye here. Don’t like these big ships none. Don’t be long.”

MURPHY grabbed her hands and helped her onto the deck. She was barefoot, having left her useless heels back on the barge.

“What’s the story?” she asked as they climbed the stairway to the upper deck.

Carwyn said, “Murphy put the deck crew to sleep.”

“The bridge?” Brigid asked.

“We haven’t gone there yet.” Carwyn looked far up at the row of black windows overlooking the deck. The ship had been painted a gleaming white with red trim. The massive superstructure with the bridge on top towered over the now-empty deck.

“Why don’t you two check the bridge?” Brigid said. “See if you can find Jean’s office. Anne and I will go belowdecks and look around.”

Murphy narrowed his eyes. “I don’t know—”