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Or at least one Marine—Cal—who’d brought every cop in town. Luckily, they weren’t as good at tracking as I was, and by the time they’d found us, Ian and I were dressed and making our way down the mountain.

We’d gotten our story straight—a garbled tale of jealousy and obsession, starring Adsila. She’d wanted Ian; she’d taken him. I’d taken him back, and she’d taken off. Cal would be occupied trying to find her for days. By the time he realized she was nowhere to be found, there’d be something new to worry about.

Quatie’s disappearance could be laid at Adsila’s door as well. She’d wanted the land; she’d buried her great-great-grandmother in the forest somewhere. We’d never find Quatie, either. Only Ian and I—and Claire, Mal, and Doc—would know why.

Doc met us at the cars. “Everything all right?”

“Dandy,” I said, and he nodded once in understanding. His gaze said he’d expect a complete report when we had time alone. I’d be happy to oblige.

“Claire wants you to come straight to her house,” Cal said when Doc had patched Ian up the best he could.

Ian refused to go to the hospital. “I’ve got better cures at my clinic than any hospital could ever hope for.”

Remembering my black eye and how quickly it had faded, I drove him home.

“I’ll run to Claire’s and fill her in,” I said.

“Come back soon.” He kissed me, gingerly because of the lip.

“Put some of that gunk on your mouth.”

Claire ran onto the porch as soon as I pulled up. She didn’t wait for me to reach her but flew down the steps and threw herself at me.

“Hey, people will say we’re in love.”

She hugged me so tightly I had to fight for breath, then let me go. “Don’t ever do that again.”

“No problem.” Though I knew if I had to do it over, I’d do exactly the same thing. If we had any other supernatural problems—and considering our track record, I had to think we might—I’d do whatever I had to do to keep the people I loved safe.

I followed Claire inside. The house was quiet; it was just the two of us. She tossed me a beer; I drank half in one gulp. Then I told her everything that had happened.

“You can make your eyes go panther?”

“Yeah. It was pretty cool.”

“Let me see.”

“Now?”

“Why not?”

Yeah, why not?

I closed my eyes and chanted the spell in Cherokee, felt the power, the magic, the belief, flow through me, and when I opened my eyes again, Claire narrowed hers. “Don’t tell Elise or Edward.”

“Don’t worry,” I said, then murmured, “Ahnigi’a,” and the magic faded. “Elise would want to take me apart and see what made me ... well, me. Edward would just want to shoot me.”

“They’re slightly predictable in their reactions to shape-shifters.”

“I didn’t shape-shift.”

“But you might.” She took a sip of her own beer. “There’s no telling what you could do with a little practice.”

I hadn’t thought of that. I wasn’t sure I wanted to, despite any childhood dreams to the contrary. There’s a difference between seeing like a panther and actually being one.

We worked out our strategy for what we’d say to the people of Lake Bluff to explain all the autopsies and the exhumations. Doc had already laid the groundwork for the virus excuse. Now we’d claim false alarm and everyone could go back to their lives. If the medical examiner, the sheriff, and the mayor all agreed, and the news was good, I didn’t think we’d have too many people pressing the issue. I’d learned in my years as an elected official that most citizens didn’t want to know the truth. They couldn’t handle the truth.

“We’d better call Elise,” Claire said. “Tell her what happened so she can check the Raven Mocker off her list. You know how anal she is.”

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