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“What about Rowan?” Mallory asked.
“He’s a good man,” Gabe said, with obvious regret. “Employed by the Brecks, works on the property. Keeps to himself, is a hard worker. I don’t know of any reason he’d organize something this violent.” He rubbed his jaw contemplatively. “All that said, they’re still missing. If they don’t return by sunset—or we don’t find evidence they were victims—I’ll have to question them myself.”
There seemed little doubt the Apex of the North American Central Pack would find the answers.
“What will you do about the rest of Lupercalia?” Mallory asked.
“That’s a rock and a hard place,” Gabe admitted. “We cancel, we show weakness. We continue, we put shifters at risk of round two of whatever this is.” He looked at Ethan. “I imagine you’ve faced similar dilemmas.”
Ethan nodded. “To stand or to protect. It is the perennial dilemma of the Master of any house.”
Gabe nodded. “Truth. I’m mulling over our options, but I’m leaning toward letting the party continue. When the mourning’s done, the Pack will need a release.”
“And what about us?” Catcher asked.
Gabriel’s eyebrows lifted. “You’re part of the mystery-solving gang, aren’t you?”
Catcher muttered something unflattering, and Mallory nudged him. “I presume you want us to stay here tonight?” she asked.
“It would make things easier,” Gabe said.
“So we’ll sleep on the couch,” Catcher said, “like we’re twelve-year-olds at a slumber party.”
“In fairness,” Ethan said, “we don’t all have to sleep on the couch.”
“In fairness,” Catcher said, “you can kiss my ass.”
“Ladies,” Mallory said. “Let’s put on our big-girl panties. Merit and Ethan are already sleeping in the bedroom, and there’s no point in making them move. Catcher and I can take the couch. The shifters will feel better if we make this work, and it’s no great loss to any of us.”
We all stared at her for a moment, at her implacable tone and reasonable words. If this was Mallory 2.0, I thoroughly approved.
“She’s right,” I said. “We can make this work.”
“We’re going to run out of clothes, though,” she said.
Gabriel nodded, looked over the sorcerers. “I’ll talk to Fallon, Nick. They should be about your size, might have something to offer.” He grimaced. “And there will be plenty of Lupercalia shirts to go around. I doubt most will want the souvenirs.”
“We’d appreciate whatever you can find.”
“I actually have a small request,” I said, and Gabriel angled his head toward me.
“Yes, Kitten?”
“We didn’t have our swords tonight. Finley basically told us not to wear them, that they’d piss off the family. But if we’re looking for monsters—especially monsters with magic—I want steel.”
He chuckled, sharing an appreciative glance with Ethan. “I’ll talk to them.”
Gabriel then gestured toward the food still untouched on the coffee table. “Sun will be up soon. I’ll let you eat and get some rest.”
I was seated closest to the door, so I rose, too, intending to fix the locks after he’d gone. But when we met at the door, Gabriel stopped to turn his gaze on me. His eyes, the color of warm amber, swirled like tempests.
“Thank you for saving them.”
I nodded, smiled. “You’re welcome. I was glad to help.”
But his expression stayed serious, his eyes deep and fathomless, the sight of them enough to raise goose bumps on my arms.
“As in much of life,” he quietly said, “it could have gone the other way.”
My chest tightened. Like sorcerers, shifters had the gift of prophecy. Did he mean Tanya might have died? That he might have lost her and Connor in the battle?
A bolt of something ran through my chest, a feeling on the precipice between gratitude and grief. I was glad his family was safe, and troubled that things might so easily have ended in tragedy. I didn’t know how to give voice to the feeling or how to respond.
“I don’t predict the future,” Gabriel said, answering one of my unspoken questions. “But I know the weight of things. There is a gravity about her now, about Connor, that suggests things might have gone the other way. That their roads might have diverged from mine. They didn’t, and I’m grateful.”
“I’m grateful, too.”
He smiled. “That’s why I like you, Kitten. You’re good people.” He leaned in and pressed a kiss to my cheek, and the flush rose from the tips of my toes to the top of my head.
“Thank you,” I said, and before I could ask my own questions—about the other prophecies he’d made—he slipped outside and into the darkness. There never seemed to be time for that particular future.
Gabriel gone, and a long night of warring behind us, we looked back at the food. It smelled porky, but when Mallory pulled back the aluminum foil, she revealed a tray of unidentifiable grayish chunks, some of which were tubular and looked distastefully intestinal.
Ethan slanted his head as he looked at it. “Is Berna trying to feed us or kill us?”
“I suspect the Brecks put in their two cents about what we should be eating,” Catcher said, who nevertheless forked a pile of the meaty chunks, flecked with fat and sinew, onto one of the paper plates she’d provided.
“You aren’t digging in, Sentinel,” Ethan said.
“I think I’ll stick to blood,” I said, the meat not even slightly appealing despite my obvious hunger. “What ever happened to that package Berna gave you?”
“Lost in the battle,” Ethan said. “And isn’t that a disappointment?”
I grabbed bottles of Blood4You for Ethan and me and sat down on the couch beside him again, exhaustion sinking heavy into my bones.
“What a miserable night,” I said, handing over a bottle.
“Seconded,” Catcher added. “Unfortunately, I doubt we’ve seen the end of the trouble.” He lifted a long, spiral bit of pork from his plate.
My stomach—usually so hearty—twisted nastily. But I’d need my strength, so I made myself finish the blood and then grabbed a yeast roll from the other tray Berna had brought. The meat might have been questionable, but there was no faulting the warm and buttery bread.
