He edged even closer, like he was preparing to bury his face in my neck, when he suddenly jerked back, startled. Wrenchinghis hand from mine, he took several large steps back, staring at me with wide-eyed confusion while mumbling an apology and aggressively shoving his hands in his pockets.
Both of us trying to ignore the weirdness of that moment, we did a visual sweep, scanning every possible place, looking behind bushes, and anywhere that could provide cover. The man was gone. There was no way he’d just vanished. Yet it appeared that he had.
Except for Cirrian, I wasn’t aware of anyone who could teleport. But the witch had to be somewhere. A cloaking spell would allow him to hide in plain sight. At the thought of him skulking near and eavesdropping on our conversation, I reached out, touching the surrounding air.
Nothing. I felt silly doing it and was sure I looked just as ridiculous. I slipped my hand into my pocket, running my fingers along the Taser like it was a security blanket.
“Smoke bomb.” Terran looked disgusted. Frustration wafted from him as we walked away, continuously scanning. Occasionally, he lifted his nose to the air.
I reviewed every identifier I had of the witch: nondescript brown eyes, a little over five eleven, medium build, a black hoodie that could have been easily discarded, and jeans. Reduced to looking at the pants of all the men who passed by made me feel helpless.
“Can you track him by scent?” I asked Terran. His head snapped in my direction, his brows furrowed into his glower. How is he offended by that? Did he think I missed him sniffing the air?Kara, don’t offend the people who can help you.“I’m sorry. Not like an animal or anything—you know, like a person who has a keen sense of smell? A…hunter, not like a bloodhound…” I sputtered.
He laughed.
Dear fates, take me now.I was better than this. I stopped rambling, took in a deep breath, then exhaled it slowly.
“Cute,” he whispered.
I frowned.
He grinned. “You’re offended that I think you’re cute?”
“It’s not the word. It’s the underestimation of my skills and competence that usually accompanies it,” I admitted.
“You can be cuteandformidable. Have you met my third?”
I had. Easily described as the embodiment of Paddington Bear. He had a round face, dimples, nub nose, and a complementing charming British accent. His stout build made me think he’d shift into a bear rather than a wolf.
Terran brought his finger to his lips. “You never heard me say that.” The humor drained from his voice. “I can’t track him by scent because I can’t decipher his smell. And the smoke isn’t helping.”
We returned to our companionable silence until we came to the car where I’d smashed the charm. Terran picked up the remnants. “The sound-making charm is new.” Irritation and anger swept over him again. “I don’t like it.”
He smelled the shards. I was never going to get used to lycanthropes’ over-reliance on their olfactory senses, and them sniffing everything. Even if doing so could offer a clue, it was still just odd.
“I can imagine.”
The charm was an excellent weapon against people with preternatural hearing. Terran would discover what was required for the spell and make sure it was no longer available in his or the surrounding territories.
“If you find the witch,” Terran’s voice dropped to a low growl, “I’d like an introduction.”
“If I find him,” I said, my tone mirroring his threatening edge, “I doubt there will be enough left of him for anintroduction.” It wouldn’t be me causing the brunt of it unless I was forced to because he refused to remove the curse. If Amelia’s coven got involved, violence would be inevitable. They’d want to retaliate. At that moment, I wasn’t feeling generous enough to prevent it.
Jonah was the only person I knew who’d used an auditory charm as a weapon. He’d moved to the top of my list as a person of interest.
“Terran, I know your pack values discretion, and I’d appreciate if you gave this situation that courtesy,” I requested. Discretion was not adequate to describe how secretive werewolves tended to be. “I can’t give you more information than this. I promise, the wolfsbane isn’t for anything related to the weres. It is dire that I get some. Do you have any?”
He inched closer, his eyes intense as they assessed me. A flush flitted over the bridge of his nose and cheeks, and I suspected being near me reminded him of his earlier response.
Terran took several measured steps back and nodded. “I believe you.”
Werewolves claimed they could scent a lie. I suspected it was a fantastical embellishment. Their heightened senses let them detect physiological changes in people when they weren’t truthful. Whichever it was, people were wary of lying to them.
“I don’t have any. Any that my pack comes in contact with is destroyed. Take my number,” he instructed me. “I’ll send you the location where you can find some. It’s about an hour away. I’ll request a favor for their wolves to let you pass.”
“So there is some in Indiana?”
He nodded and made a face. “The pack there are aware of all who have it and all the locations where it grows in the wild. They keep a close eye on things. I prefer a direct approach to handling anyone who possesses or seeks it, but they prefer tomake examples of them.” He shrugged. “No worries,” he added, “you’ll leave unharmed. I give you my word.”
