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"Are you asking me to protect you from Marcus, as well as Richard?"
"No," he said, shaking his head, "no. You're good, Blake, but you aren't in Marcus's league."
"Glad to hear it," I said.
"Will you meet with Marcus tonight?"
"If I say no, do you get in trouble?"
He stared into his coffee. "Would you believe no?"
"Nope."
He looked at me, brown eyes very serious. "He'll get mad, but I'll live."
"But he'll make you hurt." It wasn't a question.
"Yeah." That one word so soft, so tentative. It wasn't like Irving.
"I'll see him on one condition. That you're present at the meeting."
His face bloomed into a grin that spread from pole to pole. "You are a true friend, Blake." All the sadness was gone, washed away in the rosy glow of finding out what the hell was going on. Even ass deep in alligators, Irving was a reporter. It was who and what he was, more than the lycanthropy.
The smile alone was worth a meeting. Besides, I wanted to know if Richard was really in danger. Meeting the man who was threatening him was the only real way to find out. Also, I didn't really care for someone threatening one of my friends. Silver-plated bullets only slowed down a vampire, unless you can take out the head and heart. Silver bullets will kill a werewolf, no second chances, no healing, just dead.
Marcus might remember that. If he pushed it, I might even remind him.