"I'll call," he promises. "You be careful, Mathieson. This thing's bigger than the reports say. Motion-activated wildlife camera caught a partial image last night—damn thing's the size of a small horse."
My hands tighten on the steering wheel. "Thanks for the heads-up."
As I end the call, my mother's number flashes on the screen. I answer, bracing myself.
"I'm not leaving," she says without greeting.
"Mom—"
"Astrid. I won't be chased from my home."
The electric sensation pulses sharply, making me wince. It's getting stronger the closer I get to her town. "This isn't a debate. Pack. A few days with Aunt Carrie won't kill you. Have your suitcase on the porch."
"And you? What are you planning to do? Hunt this thing alone?"
Sometimes I hate how well she knows me.
"I'll be there in forty minutes," I say instead of answering. "We'll talk then."
I hang up, dialing Ghost immediately after.
"Any activity on the GUIDE monitors?" I ask when he answers.
"All quiet. Echo team is setting up a perimeter around the last sighting area, but they're focused west of your mom's town."
"I'll check in when I reach Mom's," I promise, ending the call.
The sun hangs low on the horizon as I finally turn onto the familiar street, modest houses with well-kept yards looking exactly as they have for the last decade. Nothing out of place. Nothing to explain the buzzing anxiety that's only grown stronger since I've arrived.
Mom's porch light is on, but there's no sign of luggage when I pull into the driveway.
Dammit.
"No." Mom stands in her kitchen, arms crossed, expression defiant. "I'm not leaving."
I drop my go-bag by the door and scan the living room. Nothing's packed. I should have known she wouldn't listen.
"This isn't a request," I say, moving to the windows to check the security system. Everything appears normal, but the crawling sensation beneath my skin suggests otherwise. "There's a dangerous shifter in the area."
"There have been dangerous creatures near here before." She follows me as I circle the house, checking locks. "What aren't you telling me?"
I pause at her bedroom window, and stare out at the dark trees at the edge of her neighborhood.
"I think it's hunting me," I say finally, turning to face her.
Mom's face pales. "You think it can sense your magick?"
"I don't know." I rub my arms, trying to ease the electric feeling that's become almost painful. "But I'm not taking chances with your safety."
“My safety? What about you?”
"Mom, please." I take her hands. "I need you safe so I can focus. If something happened to you because of what I am?—"
Fear flickers across her face, but is quickly masked by the stubborn determination I've inherited. Her pupils dilate, the slight tremor in her fingers betraying what her voice won't. She's terrified—not for herself, but for me. I see the calculations running behind her eyes, weighing her pride against my peace of mind.
"I'll pack," she says suddenly, squeezing my hands. "But I'm not leaving until morning. Even if I left now, I wouldn’t get to Carrie’s until one or two in the morning."
Relief floods through me. "Okay. Yeah. Thank you."
