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“So Paige and Baumgartner are out, if they weren’t already. And once again, we have nothing.”
“For now,” I said, squeezing Ethan’s hand. “We always find something.”
The issue was finding it soon enough.
We pulled on coats and gloves, belted on our katanas, and headed outside. The shifters who awaited us didn’t even spare them a glance, so I presumed Gabriel had approved our wearing them.
The night was cold, the sky covered by a bank of clouds that glowed orange on the horizon, lit by the pollution of a million sodium lights in Chicago. But I was jumpy and couldn’t stop glancing into the darkness, waiting for a new squadron of monsters to emerge.
We walked silently back to the house, hands in pockets and collars lifted against the wind, the shifters forming a guard in front of and behind us. They were all men, all wearing NAC jackets. They didn’t bother to look at us, which I found I preferred. Disinterest, in my book, was better than barely concealed loathing.
One of the shifters in front held open a door, and we entered a spare and utilitarian hallway. This part of the house was for the staff, allowing them to serve the Brecks inconspicuously.
We were marched into the main portion of the house, and then into a formal living room, where Gabriel held court again. The same crew was here again tonight—the Keenes, the Brecks, and a dozen other shifters, including Jeff.
Once again, the room was mostly men, but tonight there were exceptions. Fallon sat on an immaculately tailored couch beside her brother, and Tanya sat on his other side, Connor in her arms. Another female shifter sat on the floor at Tanya’s feet, a petite brunette who had Tanya’s big eyes and sweet features. I guessed she was in her early twenties and probably a younger sister of Tanya’s. She was a lovely girl, with bee-stung lips and pink cheeks, her brown hair pulled up in a messy knot.
The energy in the room was different than it had been last night. Still cautious, grieving. But tonight there was something else, a new softness running through the weft and warp. I presumed Tanya and her sister had brought that to the party.
Tanya glanced at me, nodded her head in acknowledgment as she brushed a hand across the fuzz on Connor’s head, comforting him—and probably her—at the same time.
“Guests,” Gabriel said, nodding mildly at us. He wore a long-sleeved T-shirt with a complicated pattern, jeans, and boots with traces of mud on the bottom. The faint scents of dirt and blood lay beneath fresh flowers and the cologne of the various men in the room. They’d been outside, probably walking the earth where their comrades had died.
Gabe caught my gaze, and I looked up at him. “I trust you slept well.”
“As well as possible, considering.”
“Any developments regarding the attack?” Ethan asked.
“Not yet.” Gabe glanced at the large grandfather clock that ticked ominously across the room. “But that report should come any moment now.”
“And the festival?” Ethan asked.
“We do not give up easily,” Gabriel said. “We’ve managed to get the grounds back into shape, the tents prepared again.” That explained the mud on his boots. “Lupercalia will continue tonight.”
Volleys of magic filled the air as the shifters in the room reacted to the announcement. Some were relieved, some nervous, some angry.
I felt Ethan’s jolt of surprise, understood it. But we were vampires, and the violation hadn’t been against us. Perhaps they needed to prove to the world—and themselves—that they could battle back.
“We wish you the best,” Ethan said. “And obviously we’re happy to assist as we can.”
The clock struck six with a sound like church bells, and the door creaked open.
The shifter who stood in the doorway was tall and rangy, with black hair that reached his shoulders and a shadow’s worth of stubble. His skin was honeyed, and his eyes were chocolate brown and deep set, offsetting honed cheekbones and a generous mouth. He wore the NAC jacket over jeans and boots, and a series of tangled cords and wraps on his right wrist.
As manly appreciation wasn’t appropriate under the circumstances—and considering the stink eye from Ethan’s direction—I muted my expression. But as I looked away, I happened to catch the wide-eyed interest in Tanya’s sister’s face. I’d seen that look before—I’d had that look before—and it was immediately recognizable, as was the way she seemed to shrink back into her own body, as if willing herself to disappear. She was interested in this new shifter but hadn’t yet confessed her feelings. It was the look of every shy teenager who’d come face-to-face with a high school crush, of every coed who’d decided the object of her affection was out of her league.
All the while, the shifter stood statue still before his Apex, oblivious to the wanting in her eyes, waiting for instructions.
“Damien Garza,” Gabriel said, gesturing to him. “A member of the Pack.” Gabe gestured to us. “Merit, of Cadogan House. Ethan Sullivan, of Cadogan House. And you know Catcher and Mallory.”
Ethan nodded, and Damien acknowledged us with a small dip of his chin, his face devoid of expression.
“Damien is here to report on our missing mates,” Gabe said, signaling Damien to begin.
“There is no sign of Aline,” Damien said, his accent melodic. “But Rowan’s body has been found. Just inside the tree line on the south side of the meadow.”
His expression was as neutral as it had been before, but the magic in the room dipped sadly, becoming low and melancholic. Gabe closed his eyes and leaned back against the couch, shoulders slumping in grief.
“We are sorry for your loss,” Ethan gravely said. We’d had to say that too many times since our arrival in Loring Park.
Gabe nodded, rubbing his forehead with his palm as if to soothe the tension there. “Is Aline gone by choice or coercion?”
“I do not know,” Damien said. “But she is not on the estate. And I have looked well.”
“Surely she’s just gone home,” Finley said, glancing at his fellow shifters. “Left the premises because of the drama.”
“All those years she didn’t leave,” Fallon said. “Why would she leave now?”
“Because you brought sorcerers and vampires into your sanctuary.”
All eyes looked to Mallory, who’d spoken the words. She glanced across the room, making eye contact with each shifter, the act an apology and a reckoning.
