They scraped their shoes on the mat and stepped inside, careful not to drip too much water. Better not piss off their host when they wanted something from h
im. They crept silently through the cottage, determining within a minute that it was empty.
“Must be a rental,” Ana said, tapping the small binder of brochures and house directions on the counter. Sturdy, generic furniture and the lack of photos corroborated the theory. “Do you think he’s staying here?”
“Could be. If so, he’s changing his hermit ways.” Cam swung open the fridge to reveal a six pack of Tennant’s Lager and some ham and bread. He went back into the bedroom, drew the curtains, flipped on the light. The closet revealed a bag containing a few changes of men’s clothing and a passport at the bottom. He flipped the passport open and peered down at the face of a man who looked to be in his mid-thirties, though he was far older.
He frowned at the name next to the picture. Conrad Allen.
“What’d you find?” Ana asked as she walked into the room and stopped at his side.
He tilted the passport to her.
“Could be fake,” she said.
“That’s what I’m thinking. He wouldn’t leave his real name lying around.” With that thought, Cam slipped a cell phone out of his back pocket and dialed Fiona.
“It’s Cam,” he said when she picked up the line.
“I bet you have another question that’s going to be a pain to answer,” Fiona said.
“Probably. Do you know what Logan Laufeyson looks like?”
“Sort of. I’ve got a description from the Acquirer who saw him steal the bow and arrow. It’s one of the ways I tracked him.”
Cam looked down at the passport. “Has he got real pale skin, a thin scar along his jaw, longish black hair, and”—he squinted at the picture— “black eyes?”
“That scar sounds right, as does the rest.”
“Good. Do you have any record of him going by the name Conrad Allen?”
“No, but I’d buy it. I’ll do some research, add it to my records. But I’d bet it’s him. The witches pinpointed him to that valley, and almost no one lives there. And that description fits.”
“Good. How would he feel if he came back to his rental and found two squatters waiting for him? The snow’s coming down hard and we won’t make it out of here ’til it clears.”
“I have no idea. But there’s no record of him being insane. A rental isn’t like your own house, you know? So just leave the lights on and wait in the living room. It’ll probably be fine.”
Cam didn’t love the sound of that, but he also didn’t love the sound of waiting in the car. It’d be damn hard to defend them while he was sitting. And lurking outside was too threatening.
“I see. One last thing. What is he? Can he aetherwalk?”
“Don’t quite know what he is, but he is Mythean. And I’ve never heard of him aetherwalking.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.” He hung up when the line went dead.
“It’s him?” Ana asked.
“Think so. Come on. Let’s go in the living room so that when he arrives we’re not shifting around through his stuff. He probably doesn’t aetherwalk, so we’ll have to hear his car come up the drive.”
He flipped off the light and glanced back to make sure the room looked the same as when they’d entered. When they reached the tiny room with its overstuffed couch, Ana went straight to the window and peered out into the darkness.
“It’s a mess out there. Really coming down now,” she said.
Cam flipped on two of the lamps so that a low glow would shine out the window and stepped up behind her to look out into the night.
“Damn. It’ll be a while before he’s back,” he said, trying to focus on the view rather than the heat of her back pressed against him. The memory of last night in the pub made him shift behind her, drawing his hips away. Now was not the time for a fucking hard-on.
She slipped her quiver from her back, let it slip to the floor, and leaned back against him. He couldn’t stifle the sigh that escaped him. He wrapped an arm about her middle and pulled her back to rest against him.