“I’m beginning to like that man less and less. And I don’t like Brigid working for him.”

“She can take care of herself. She’s Deirdre’s daughter, and Cathy trained her. Murphy will put her to good use.”

Carwyn looked around, his senses alerting him to something nearing. There was an energy signature that was weak, but growing. They might have just been approaching a building with numerous humans occupying it, or the energy could be coming from a few immortals. With the hum of electricity that surrounded him in cities, it was hard to tell. Gemma was still talking.

“Terry would do the same. And that’s part of the reason he didn’t use his connection to Deirdre to try to woo the girl to London. We want Murphy stable there. In fact, all our allies need—”

“Gemma, there’s someone here.” He was sure of it now. Four immortals approaching. One from the air. Three on the ground.

She halted immediately, the proper young woman disappeared and the killer opened her eyes with a feral smile. “Excellent. It’s been months since I’ve had that kind of fun.”

His eyes skimmed the deserted street. No water nearby. The ground was covered in concrete. Unless there was a fire immortal approaching, the only one with an elemental advantage was the wind immortal. Gemma stood still, small and delicate in the glow of the streetlamp.

Carwyn chuckled under his breath. Looks could be so deceiving.

In a blink, she turned her head to the side and was gone, leaping onto a narrow balcony like a cat, then waited crouched as Carwyn leaned against the corner of a building and watched.

The wind vampire came first. Foolishly low, he didn’t even realize that he was dead until Gemma sprang on his back, knocking him to the ground. With a quick twist and a wet rip, his blood was spilling over the dirty street as she tossed his head to the side.

“Stranger, I hope?” Carwyn asked in whisper.

“A troublemaker. I recognized his scent. That’s why he’s dead first. Stupid man.”

She recognized his scent? Carwyn frowned. What was going on in London?

Before he could ask, the dead vampire’s friends caught up with him. They sped around the corner, obviously expecting their friend to have corralled their prey, only to slip on the wide pool of blood spilled next to his body.

Gemma hissed and Carwyn spared no time, barreling into two of them with his arms held out. He grasped both by the neck and knocked their heads together, more for his own amusement than anything else.

“Stop playing, Father!”

He grinned and shook the two dazed vampires, who he was fairly certain, belonged to water. “Why? I need the exercise.”

Gemma snorted as she batted away the remaining vampire who charged her. “No, you don’t.”

“Are we keeping any alive?” One managed to kick Carwyn’s knee while he held them both by the neck. Cheeky.

“Maybe just one to question. Which should we choose?”

Gemma’s attacker ran toward her again, but she grabbed him around the neck and head-butted him before she tucked him under her arm and waited.

“Why don’t we see which one is smartest?”

She shot him a smile. “Excellent idea!”

Carwyn tossed the two kicking vampires into a pile in the center of the street, not far from the growing pool of the wind vampire’s blood. Gemma tossed hers as well. Then, they both waited while the three rose to their feet.

Two knelt into a crouch, baring their fangs as Carwyn and Gemma watched. The third vampire rose behind his friends, scanned Gemma first, then Carwyn… then proceeded to turn tail and run as quickly as he could down the dark street.

“Smart one,” Carwyn and Gemma said together.

“Catch the runner,” he said. “I’ll take care of these two.”

Gemma shot off without a word and Carwyn was left with the idiots. His fangs fell in delight. “Hello, boys.”

They grunted, snarling in what someone probably told them was a menacing way. Not very smart, these two. The most dangerous vampires he’d ever encountered usually looked the most harmless. Like Gemma.

Carwyn smirked. “Compensating much?”

The snarls turned into sneers, and one leapt. With one hand, Carwyn caught him and threw him into a wall, where he crumpled to the ground. The other pulled out a gun.

“Really?” Carwyn groaned. “Well, that’s just unimaginative.” In a blink, he’d rushed the vampire. He grabbed the gun and twisted it out of the other man’s hand. “Particularly when these”—with one strong hand, he slowly squeezed—“don’t do much to me.” The semiautomatic bent as if it was made of tinfoil. With three quick squeezes, the gun was balled up in Carwyn’s hands and the vampire’s teeth retracted in his mouth.

Carwyn winced. “Embarrassing when that happens, isn’t it?” The vampire lifted his eyes to his in terror, just as the other leapt onto him from behind and sunk a knife into his shoulder. Carwyn reached over, plucked the immortal off his back, twisted his head off, and dropped the body on the street. Then his smile fell, he grabbed the knife out of his back and sliced at the staring vampire’s neck as his blood spurted out.

In two quick slashes, it was all over.

Three bodies lay at his feet. The blood, he knew, would burn away at dawn, but he didn’t want to chance some poor fool stumbling over the remains. Gemma would have taken the survivor off to Terry’s already.

Carwyn stared at the ground and scowled. “Typical children. I always have to clean up the messes.”