“Are we sure this is a good idea?” Michaels put the car in park, then turned to look at Matthias.
“We need information, and we can’t risk compromising Adam to get it.” Matthias nodded.
“Yeah, but given what this guy can do…” Michaels shook his head.
“That’s uh…” Matthias exhaled. “Why I brought you. Erilon’s tapped into your head pretty good, so she can monitor things and counter him.”
“Not.” Michaels gritted his teeth. “Comforting.”
“It seems a reasonable plan, however…” Erilon’s eyes reflected back from the rear view mirror. “I’ve never directly tried to match Khait before and I have no idea what his current strength levels are at with the talisman in play. Please try very hard not to make Bridget or Abigail feel threatened.”
“Maybe I should wait in the car.” Matthias sighed.
“That’s not the worst idea you ever had, but we are going to need to intimidate and interrogate some people and uh…” Michaels shrugged. “I happen to know you’re not bad at that.”
Matthias winced. “Yeah.” He opened the car door and got out.
Michaels followed him up to the porch, then rang the doorbell. After a few seconds, a lovely young black woman opened the door. She looked them over, then turned and looked over her shoulder. “Bridget, the scary men are here.”
“Tell them to come in and ask them if they want coffee.” Another voice came from the kitchen.
“Come in.” She smiled and stepped back so they could enter.
“Thank you.” Michaels entered, Matthias a step behind. “You must be Abigail. I’m Detective Michaels…” He gestured. “This is Matthias Jarlson.”
“Thats a lot of werewolf.” A male voice came from behind them, making him jump slightly. A young man leaned against the wall, a slight smirk on his face.
“Khait, you promised to behave yourself.” Abigail pointed at him.
“Simply making an observation.” Khait tilted his head at Matthias. Then his eyes widened slightly. “Wait…” He grinned. “Jarlson?” He suddenly started laughing.
“Khait…” A brunette woman who must be Bridget stepped out of the hallway and folded her arms. Her voice was heavy with disapproval.
“Yes.” Matthias squared his shoulder. “Jarlson.”
“Ah, Jarl…” Khait gave a low whistle. “Now, he was fun. They don’t make Vikings like that anymore.” He rolled his eyes. “Now they all lose to cheese boxers.”
“Chee—” Matthias blinked.
“It’s Packers, Khait, not boxers, and that’s football.” Abigail snickered. “Not real Vikings.”
“Oh.” Khait blinked. “Is that why they don’t have axes?”
“Can we…” Michaels pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Sorry.” Abigail directed them further into the house. “We are working on getting him up to date on modern culture and there are still areas of misunderstanding.”
“Such as why they call it football in the first place.”
“It’s an American thing. Americans insist on calling proper football ‘soccer’.” Abigail chuckled. She had a trace of a British accent. “Oh, did you want coffee?”
“I suspect…” Michaels took a deep breath. “That we are going to need it.”