Chapter Seven
Punks and Miscreants
1
Harry didn't often see the southernmost corner of Hogsmeade – mostly because it wasn't as popular as the main drag and it wasn't part of any underground Optimates lair. This part of town was a quiet, neutral area and its largest business was The Rat's Mouth pub and inn.
The Rat's Mouth was nothing like what Madam Rosemerta could provide in an inn, but it was leagues ahead of The Hog's Head.
Agape and Logan were waiting for him outside the pub doors when he walked up. "Everything go okay at your headquarters after I left?" Harry asked Logan.
The man nodded. "They're making some plans to keep me from getting arrested, and Jett is in the safe house with Gus guarding her."
Harry was pleased with that. He peered at Agape, who looked as though she'd like to go home. "Are you okay?" he asked.
It seemed like she was going to nod but changed her mind and shook her head instead. "Did I really screw up that badly tonight?" she blurted.
"It wouldn't be your fault," Logan reminded her. "The BT would have busted me out with or without you."
"But really – if I were an Auror – would I be in trouble right now?" Her eyes begged honesty from Harry, though he couldn't have lied to her anyhow.
"Yes, you would," he admitted. "But you didn't do all that bad. You just let the situation get out of your control. You live, you learn."
She must not have thought of her blunder in that context before now, but seeing it in a different light seemed to do the trick. She straightened some and her anxious face relaxed. A person never considers their mistakes a lesson until later in life.
"Ready now?" Harry said, giving her half a grin.
"Yes," she answered. "This part I can do."
"Yeah, all you do is ask questions," Harry teased as the three of them walked into the pub.
Inside The Rat's Mouth was a moderate crowd, all contributing to the comfortable chatter of the room. It wasn't a bad place really, if you weren't looking for excitement.
Harry glanced around and walked up to the bar but did not sit down, Agape and Logan on either side. The man behind the bar had his back turned to them as he restocked the alcohol on the shelves. He was wearing an old black tee-shirt with Guinness spelled out in green letters on the back and his long brown hair was pulled into a ponytail. A gleam on the right side of his jeans revealed a chain connected to a wallet in his back pocket.
Agape was watching the barman with little interest when Harry turned to her. He was about to speak but was distracted as something suddenly caught the woman's attention and brought out her prettiest smile. Harry followed her gaze and found that the bartender had turned around.
He was very handsome and young – probably a few years younger than Agape actually. He smiled back at her charmingly as he wiped off the counter with a towel. Harry noticed he wore a leather band around each wrist, one studded and the other embossed with a skull. He was of the punk persuasion, no doubt. "What can I git yer?" he said in a thick Dublin accent.
"Well," Agape began, still smiling broadly, but Harry cut her off.
"Nothing, thanks."
The young man looked at Harry and immediately recognized him. "Nothin'?" he asked as some suspicion crossed his visage.
"We'd like to talk to the manager," Harry told him. "Is he here?"
"You're talkin' ter 'im," the man replied.
"Oh," said Harry, slightly surprised. "Then you're Cullen Pembroke?"
"I am. But if 'tis about de inn, you'll 'av ter talk ter de owners."
"No, we're not concerned with the inn," Harry assured him. "We'd like to ask you a few questions."
Pembroke eyed him for a second, understandably apprehensive, but eventually he shrugged and agreed.
"Can we talk somewhere else?" Harry inquired.
2
Four students sat around a table in the back of the Rat's Mouth drinking butterbeers, all third years at Hogwarts and members of the Hufflepuff house. The smallest of them was Kyla Potter, a girl with black hair, green eyes, and lots of freckles. She sat between her best friend, Patricia Warren (a talkative blond girl), and Trevor Vaughn (a rusty haired boy who was anything but talkative). The second boy, named Lamont Maynard Brillhart III (or "Monty") dwarfed them all in height and girth and sat with his slouched back to the door.
Tricia was talking about nothing in particular – leading the conversation as usual – when Kyla's eyes suddenly went wide. Her father had just walked into the pub and if it hadn't been for Monty's considerable size blocking her from view, he would have looked right at her.
"Duck!" she cried before disappearing beneath the table.
"What?" said a confused Tricia.
"I said get down!" Kyla pulled her friend underneath the table with her and glared at their other friends until they followed suit.
"What's up?" Tricia asked, slightly annoyed.
"My dad is over there talking to the bartender," Kyla hissed, brushing her black hair out of her eyes so she could see her father better from beneath the tabletop.
"What's he doing here?" Tricia whispered excitedly. "Is he going to arrest someone? Oh, I hope he's not arresting Cullen – he's too cute to go to Azkaban."
Monty gave the blond girl a peculiar look and asked, "Is that the kind of boy you like?"
"Huh?"
"Nothing."
"Do you think McGonagall would send him to look for us if she knew we were here?" Kyla wondered, slightly panicky.
Trevor leaned to the side to peer around Monty. Mr. Potter and two others were following the bartender into the back.
"That's Logan!" he exclaimed before asking Kyla, "What's he doing with your dad? And who is the woman?"
"Her name is Agape. She used to be my dad's assistant," Kyla explained. "She's training to be an Auror now, though."
"Looks like they want to talk in private," Trevor pointed out.
"What if he is arresting Cullen?" Tricia hissed in a stricken voice. "Someone told me he used to sell drugs, but maybe I was wrong when I told them to stuff it. I'll be really mad if he does get taken away – he's the coolest bartender in Hogsmeade!"
Kyla rolled her eyes and Monty seemed rather dejected. Trevor raised his eyebrow at their friend, saying, "How well do you know the bartenders in Hogsmeade?"
She smacked him lightly on the shoulder. "Oh, you know what I mean! He's the only one who lets us come in here after dark when it's not a Hogsmeade weekend."
"Look, we have to get out of here," Kyla insisted. "If I get caught, I'm dead. And if any of you get caught, my Dad will know I was here, so I'll be dead anyway. Let's just go."
The four teenagers shuffled out from under the table and headed for the door, only to find that Mr. Potter and party had not gone out of sight. They were standing just beyond the doorway in the small courtyard behind the building.
Kyla flung herself against the wall to keep out of sight, stopping her friends as well. "Ugh!" she seethed. "He would be facing the door so he could keep an eye on the pub. Stupid Auror training!"
"There's a back door near the bathrooms," Trevor suggested.
"But it says 'Employees Only'," Monty argued, winning little notice from the others.
"Yeah. That's better," Tricia agreed. "Come on."
3
Harry and his companions stood around Cullen Pembroke in the moonlit courtyard. The Auror faced the open door, keeping an eye on the pub just in case.
"What ye want ter talk about?" Cullen asked them.
"We're looking for a vampire," Logan said grimly.
Harry nodded and elaborated, "We need to know about Nolan Quentin, Mr. Pembroke."
"It's Cullen," he said. "An' who tol' yer I know Nolan Quentin?"
Agape answered him much more warmly than she normally would during an interview, "Remus Lupin said we should come to you for information about him."
Cullen rolled his eyes at the mention of Remus's name. "Ah. So he sent you 'ere?"
Harry hadn't heard someone take that tone about Remus since Severus Snape was still fighting for the Dark Arts job at Hogwarts.
"He said you were related to Quentin," Harry said. "Are you?"
Cullen scoffed. "Not me choice, I assure ye. 'E's me grandfather."
"Well, we don't know much about him, so we could use your help," Harry told him.
"I don't t'ink I 'av de kind of informashun you're lookin' for. De last t'ing we 'ad in common wus our accent, an' now 'e's dropped dat too."
"When did you last talk to him?" Harry proceeded.
"A year, almost two years ago," Cullen answered.
"How long has he been a vampire?"
"Two years."
"How old is your grandfather?"
Cullen thought for a moment, a frown line appearing between his brows that reminded Harry of Remus ironically.
"Ninety-four, I t'ink."
"Why would he choose to become a vampire so late in life?" Agape said curiously.
Cullen grinned cynically as he replied, "He didn't like bein' auld anymore. 'E'd lost all 'is charms. Apparently, if a vampire drinks enoof blood he can regain 'is youth."
As Cullen said this, Logan (who was facing him) saw a door open some distance behind the young man and a boy with rusty brown hair poked his head out. Logan instantly recognized Trevor, the youngest Blood Traitor. Another head, this one a black haired girl, stuck out just below Trevor's, but when they spotted the four adults standing in the courtyard their eyes went wide. Knowing full well they shouldn't be there, Logan gave them a glare. The girl shoved Trevor back through the door and closed it silently.
"It would take a lot of blood to do that," Logan commented, hoping not to give the kids away even if they were out of school.
"Dat wouldn't 'assle 'im," Cullen retorted, shrugging.
"Would he kidnap a little girl?" Harry asked, getting down to business.
"I wouldn' put it past 'im if he got somethin' he wanted in return." Cullen's tone was growing darker by the minute. He obviously did not like hearing about what his grandfather had been up to.
"What do you think he'd want in exchange? Money? A favor?"
"Yeah, somethin' like dat maybe. Who did he take?"
"My daughter, Liberty Kimber," Logan said dourly.
Cullen gave the werewolf a genuinely sympathetic look. "I'm sorry. I knew he wus in scratcher wi' de Neos, but I never knew what he wus up ter."
"Why do you think Remus would send us to you?" Harry pondered half to Cullen and half to himself.
"Proobably 'cos I wus de last person Nolan talked ter before he vanished." The sour tone was back in the bartender's voice, but it was hard to tell whether it was from the thought of Quentin or Remus.
"So you haven't seen him recently – even in passing," Agape asked.
"No. An' I don't want ter."
"When you talked last, did he mention where he might be headed or working in the future," Harry went on.
Cullen thought hard for a moment, and then his face lit. "Yeah! He mentioned somethin' about Wales – said he wus workin' for two bosses."
"Where in Wales?" Logan demanded.
"I don't know. Wi' other Vampires I guess…" He frowned as his sentence trailed off. "'Ang on. His auld assistant might know."
"Assistant?" said Agape. "Vampires have assistants?"
"More like an indentured servant," Cullen answered.
Harry nodded, "Humans who serve vampires they're indebted to."
"Right. 'Er name's Renée. Nolan 'borrowed' 'er from another vampire but broke their contract when he attacked 'er. She lives 'round 'ere nigh. I'll see if I can git 'er in de fireplace."
He turned away from the door to the pub and aimed for the other back door Logan had just seen the students disappear through. As they followed Cullen inside, Logan took out his mobile phone and sent a quick text message. If Alton had gotten anything right, it was his idea to mesh Muggle technology with Magic.
4
"Omigod! Omigod! Are you sure they didn't see you," Tricia babbled rapidly as they dashed back the way they came.
"Logan did. But that only means I'm dead," Trevor said quickly, grabbing her hand to pull her along the back hallway faster.
The physical contact seemed to have a shutting-up effect on Tricia, which Kyla was immensely grateful for. Her blond friend tended to get even more talkative when she was panicked.
They skidded to a halt right before they reentered the dining area. Kyla peered into the open room cautiously. If her dad was still in the courtyard he would see them leave – she needed an escape plan and Monty breathing heavily down her neck was not helping her think.
"Hey, why do you have a mobile?" said Tricia suddenly. Kyla and Monty looked around to see Trevor looking down at a cellular phone.
The words on the tiny screen said: Get back to school NOW!
"It's from Logan," Trevor told them.
Then the door they had just bolted from opened and Cullen came inside followed by Mr. Potter.
"Go!" Kyla desperately hissed to her friends, and they sprinted around tables and chairs until they were safely out of the building.
Once they had run back to the main drag of Hogsmeade, they paused near the Post office to catch their breaths.
"Can we go one week where we don't have to run away from some place we're not supposed to be?" Monty wheezed as he clutched a stitch in his side.
Kyla laughed, and Tricia did too. The elation of not being caught soon spread to all of them and even Trevor – the noticeably least winded of the four – grinned as he texted Logan back:
Yes Sir. Going. Sorry.
5
Cullen bowed close to the fireplace as an attractive face appeared in the flames.
"Bonjour, Cullen!" Renée said pleasantly. Agape had to hold back a groan as she heard a French accent coming out of yet another gorgeous woman. "What's up?"
"I need ter ask yer somethin', Renée," Cullen said. "It's about Nolan."
The woman's reply came in a vicious hiss: "J'en ai rien à foutre de ce salaud!"
"I know, I know," Cullen said, his voice placating. "But it's important. 'E's taken dis man's daughter." He gestured to Logan. "Do yer know anythin' about vampire communities in Wales?"
"Zere are several," she answered, "but I theenk a fathead like Nolan would probably go to a place in Cardeeff called Cruenta. It's a haven for Vampires."
"Where in Cardiff?" Logan asked urgently, bending down on the hearth beside Cullen.
"It is 'idden near ze church on St. John Street."
"Are you sure that's where he would stay?" Harry asked.
Renée gave him a tedious look. "Only ze most arrogant vampires would congregate just outside ze walls of a holy place. I can't imagine a more fitting place for Nolan."
Cullen looked up at him and nodded.
Harry regarded Agape and Logan. Their visages wore matching dogged expressions and he saw no reason to disagree with them. "Thank you both," he said to the young man and woman. "You've been a huge help."
Logan caught Cullen's hand and gave it a firm shake. "Yes. Thank you so much – and you Renée."
"Be sure to tell him 'ho sent you," the French woman added, the spark in her eyes more than a reflection of the flames around her. With a pop she vanished.
"Can we use your fireplace?" asked Agape.
6
The Blood Traitor headquarters was nowhere near as enveloped in chaos as it was just a day before. In fact it was now scarcely inhabited. There were only three people in the room and one of them had fallen asleep at her desk. Payton Fenton breathed deeply as she slumbered, her short hair going through various states of scruffiness each time she moved her head within the cradle of her arms. Her companions were still at work at desks behind her, though they were only slightly more productive.
Ferris Thorpe sat with exhausted eyes before the same computer he had been staring at since early that morning. Beside him, in a similar condition of ocular haze and frustration, was Celeste Haywood with her laptop. They had been told to do a number of things by a number of people, who were supposedly in charge. However, between the tasks Alton had given them, the requests Logan had begged of them, and Roman's commands (each more snappish than the last), not much had been accomplished. Payton and Sydney had tried to help them at one point – however it wasn't long before Syd and Celeste had a disagreement and the younger girl stormed off to her room. As Payton was mute and thus a virtually silent worker, she didn't test Celeste's nerves and had stayed on task until she had run out of things to do.
Ferris rubbed his blue green eyes, letting them rest for a moment as he simultaneously arched his back in a massive stretch. He stared blankly into space for a moment before an outburst from Celeste startled him back to cognizance.
"Ugh! We have files on so many Optimates, but not one on this Jett person," the plump woman fumed. "Even in previous missions, none of us have as much as glimpsed her. Why does Roman want to know about her so badly?"
Ferris sighed, caring little for what Roman wanted, but Celeste had a point. "I don't know. Maybe it's because she spooked him so badly this evening."
Celeste was not appeased. "I don't get it, though. What's up with those scars on his wrists? He's had them since before I joined the BT. I thought he got them when he was fighting for the Neos."
Ferris narrowed his eyes at his computer screen. "He got them when he broke out of Azkaban and took the worst inmates with him," he said.
"But he was forced to do that wasn't he?"
"Yes. He was the distraction. But no one told him to butcher his wrists." Ferris didn't usually talk about his teammates this way, but he had a particular dislike for Roman and all things related to him.
Celeste was looking at him, shocked into stillness. Not so much from the way he was acting (everyone was well aware he and Roman disliked each other) but from what he had just revealed.
"Are you saying he slit his own wrists? On purpose?" she said tensely. "How come I didn't know this?"
"Because we're not supposed to talk about it," Ferris replied flatly. "It's a… sore spot between him and Jules."
To her credit, Celeste asked no more questions and let the subject drop.
Ferris's mobile rang. He snatched it up from his desktop and answered it immediately when he saw who was calling.
"Jules?"
Celeste perked up curiously, almost as anxious to hear from their leader as he was. Ferris had barely slept for the past week, wondering if his girlfriend was okay and what was keeping her from the Blood Traitors.
"Ferris" said Jules on the other line. "Who's in the room with you?"
He thought this was a strange question, but her voice sounded edgy and hurried, so he answered immediately: "Celeste and Payton. Are you alri-"
"Do you know where Roman is?" Jules interrupted.
"No. He left about an hour ago."
Jules swore angrily. "Listen. Something is happening – something catastrophic."
"What? Jules, what do you-"
"Listen!" she hissed urgently. "Don't let Roman back into headquarters."
"I don't understand…"
"Just don't!"
7
St. John Street was nearly deserted as Harry, Agape, and Logan stepped onto the pavement. It was too late for the Muggle tourist shops to be open and while Cardiff's nightlife thrived elsewhere, this street was presently ignored.
They reached the curve of the street and Harry stopped, wondering where this Cruenta place was supposed to be. St. John's Church loomed over them from the right and a closed restaurant to the left. It couldn't be far.
"You are searching for a vampire," stated an amused voice nearby.
The three of them whirled toward the church in search of the voice, but only Agape could see well enough to find the owner. She exhaled in relief and grumbled, "Just what we need, another Frenchie."
Yvette Montalais stepped forward out of the shadow of St. John's with a smirk tugging at her beautiful lips and revealing her white fangs. Her eyes seemed to have an unnatural iridescence in the dim light of the nearest streetlamp. "I am right, no?" the vampire asked. "What else would two Ministry dogs and a vigilante be doing at this place so late? Certainly not going to mass."
"Well, Renée was right when she said only the most arrogant vampires come here," Agape said, only half teasing.
"We didn't expect to see anyone we knew," Harry told her. "Maybe you can help us."
"Can you show us where Cruenta is?" Logan asked.
Yvette gave him a lazy smile as she moved forward and kissed his cheeks. "Anything for my wolf – even if you did bring the Auror and the Amazon."
As Agape glowered at her, the vampire passed them and lead the way into an alley just across the street. Nearing the end of the alleyway, she stopped and pointed one of her lacquered fingernails down an opening in the concrete against one of the brick walls on either side of them. It was the entrance to someone's basement or old stock room – little more than a rectangular hole accommodated with a very steep, narrow staircase. Harry peered down it but could see or hear nothing at the end of the steps. Yvette just smiled serenely at him, waiting for the three of them to act.
"Do you know if Nolan Quentin is in there?" Agape asked her.
Yvette raised a delicately arched eyebrow. "You'll have to ask someone else that question. All I know is that he has been around town within the last few days."
That was good enough for Harry. He descended the stairs quickly and heard his companions trailing him. Yvette did not follow them.
There was no door at the bottom, just a sharply twisting hall that eventually ended at the mouth of a large room. The space was dimly lit – so much so that Harry had a hard time seeing anything. Wherever there was a torch or candle the flames were pure white and flickering, casting weird shadows across the pale faces of the room's inhabitants as they sat in booths or stood along the walls. The only conversations were spoken in whispers, filling the place with hisses and low mutterings.
There was a visible bar with a person serving refreshments of some sort. It was the most well lit area of the entire room, so that's where Harry headed, not slowing down. Several pairs of unearthly eyes followed the three humans as they walked, but most were preoccupied with other endeavors.
Upon reaching the bar, Harry stubbed his toe against the stone side, but the fumble managed to catch the attention of the woman behind the counter. Her gaunt face was bathed in the light of two torches on either side of her. She looked like she had been around fourteen when she became a vampire – her face was very young, and despite how much she dressed like a tart her body seemed underdeveloped.
"I have nothing for you to drink," she told them right away.
"We're not here for that," Harry replied.
"Then you had better state your business fast. My customers don't take well to humans in my lounge," she warned, coming across as much older than she looked.
Harry leaned over the counter, and she obliged by coming closer to hear what he had to say. A bit too close in fact – she practically pressed her cheek against his and he was well aware of how close she was to his neck at her height.
"Can you take me to Nolan Quentin," he asked in a low voice. He didn't necessarily want everyone in the room to know who he was looking for.
He pulled away from her first and she gave him an appraising glance. "If I tell you, are you going to take him away?"
Harry nodded soberly.
"This aught to be interesting," she commented with a sneer that showed off her extraordinarily long fangs. "Come with me."
Harry was surprised and rather distrustful of how quickly she agreed to assist a bunch of humans, but he followed nonetheless.
They ended up going deeper underground before the young-looking vampire paused at a door, which was illuminated by a mounted candelabrum and painted a suspiciously dark red color. She opened the door and entered the room with the three of them.
Inside it was as poorly lit as everywhere else, so Harry, fed up, pointed his wand at the nearest torch and replaced the soft white flames with something more robust. The four male vampires sitting in conference around the table within squinted momentarily in the bright light.
"What's going on Tryphenia?" said one of the men to the proprietress.
"These people are here for Quentin," the small woman said, crossing her arms and standing out of the way.
Three of the men turned disgruntled gazes upon said culprit.
Nolan Quentin appeared to be middle-aged (which is quite a feat considering he started off at ninety-four) and had unkempt silver hair. His eyes narrowed at them as his dark lips twisted into a grimace of disgust.
"By 'here for Quentin' I assume you mean to cart me off," he drawled to Tryphenia. "What is it I'm supposed to have done this time?"
Harry knew Logan could barely hold himself back, so he left it to him to answer.
"You took my daughter, you bastard," he hissed through clenched teeth.
Nolan was no less nonchalant than before. He leaned back in his chair and observed Logan through bored eyes as he said, "And you are?"
Logan was an arms length away from Nolan in three quick strides; his wand in his hand and ready to strike. "I'm the one who'll make you much less undead if you don't tell me where Liberty is."
Nolan was unimpressed by the man's threat, but his upper lip curled as his aversion deepened. "I smell dog on you, boy-o. I can't believe what trash they let in here."
"Tell us where the girl is, Quentin," Harry calmly commanded.
The vampire turned smugly to his companions who were getting to their feet. "You won't suffer a werewolf in Cruenta, will you gentlemen?"
Harry and Agape watched the three standing vampires warily, but none of them made a move. Apparently they were less likely to suffer Nolan than a werewolf in their lounge.
"These matters don't concern us, Quentin," one said gruffly. "You chose a side – and now we who are unaffiliated must leave you to deal with your choice."
Nolan's eyes widened in shocked indignation as his cohorts left him to fend for himself. He focused more clearly on Logan's extended wand then.
"Where is she?" Logan repeated, menace creeping into his voice.
His eyes darting nervously around the room as the wand tip neared his throat, Nolan finally nodded. "Alright, you shitehound. If you need to save her so badly, I'll tell you."
"Logan," Agape warned, knowing as well as Harry that Nolan was very dangerous even with a wand pointed at him. His jerky movements were too theatric to be true nervousness.
"Tell me," Logan snarled, not backing down.
Suddenly, Nolan was relaxed and the smirk returned to his face as he shrugged. "As you wish."
He moved so suddenly that Logan's hex bounced harmlessly off the wall. Suddenly vampire and werewolf were face to face and Nolan's nails had raked deep gashes into Logan's left cheek. Both Harry and Agape shot spells but missed the inhumanly swift vampire. He soon had Logan turned about-face with his claws digging into the man's neck, using him as a shield.
Logan's lips were drawn back in a snarl of rage and pain as Nolan squeezed his larynx. Baring his own teeth, the vampire put his mouth next to Logan's ear and hissed, "Your whelp is under the same bloody hill in Betws-y-Coed where Morrigan has been stuffing kids since last year."
"Let him go, Quentin," Harry demanded, counting down ten seconds for the vampire to obey before he retaliated.
Nolan ignored him and spoke to Logan again: "I hope she hasn't starved to death yet." He snickered nastily, but was suddenly drowned out by another noise. A strangled growl was growing steadily louder in Logan's throat. Harry and Agape paused for a moment unsure of what they were hearing.
Then Logan's canine teeth elongated. Nolan looked much more genuinely concerned than he had before, but he didn't loosen his grip. Logan's hand (that wasn't being twisted behind his back) struck Nolan's side without warning, nails digging through clothes and into flesh. The vampire's eyes became huge and stricken with pain as a dull snap resounded in everyone's ears.
Nolan cried out and lost his grip on Logan. The Blood Traitor got out of the way and Harry quickly shot Nolan with a spell that would impede his movement. The vampire fell against the wall clutching his side and shouting, "My ribs! Damn you! You pulled my ribs out!"
Indeed, two of his lower ribs had been snapped and ripped through the skin.
Logan ignored him and gasped for air as he held his gored neck with a clawed hand. Agape stepped over to him, but seemed undecided about actually touching him. "Logan… Are you alright?"
Harry told Nolan he was under arrest – as if he didn't already know – and shackled his hands. Still unable to move very freely and in pain, he didn't put up much of a fight. The Auror then turned to join Agape.
Logan, evidently calm now, was staring uneasily at his blood covered fingernails, which had somehow turned into tools ideal for rending. Agape cleaned up the lacerations on his cheek and neck with her wand.
He peered up at Harry. "I don't understand," he said, his voice hoarse after being choked for so long. "What happened?"
"I don't know," Harry answered, shaking his head. "Looks like your werewolf side may have tried to save your butt."
Logan frowned at the floor. "Libby," he said after a moment. "We have to get to her."
"Are you sure he was telling the truth?" Agape pointed out.
"Oh, she's there," Nolan snarled from the wall. "I stuck her in that hellhole myself. I hope she's a rotting corpse by now – just like you're going to be if you try to save her!" His eyes swiveled toward the open door where Tryphenia still stood, watching the show. "And what about you, little miss? What are you playing, bringing the Ministry in here? Your customers will never forget this!"
"Just like you, Quentin," said the small vampire with some amusement, "always overestimating your importance. I serve vampires here, not Optimates."
"You think the three men I was talking to weren't Optimates?" Nolan demanded as Harry approached him again and pulled him to his feet to leave.
"They've never brought trouble to my business before," Tryphenia retorted.
Agape and Logan preceded Harry out of the room while he guided Nolan in front of him.
Tryphenia's child hand touched his shoulder lightly to catch his attention. "Never come here again," she said, though not unpleasantly, "but contact me if you need a favor in the future. I owe you for getting this scum out of my lounge."
Harry wasn't sure how to respond, so he didn't. He pushed Nolan out of the room and marched him past the watchful eyes of the nospheratu before they emerged into the open alleyway.
Yvette was waiting for them, managing to sit gracefully atop a trashcan. "Good job," was all she said.
The pace is finally picking up! And at last, blood and gore!!! )