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Gabriel rode in front, an imposing figure on a long bike with wide handles, every inch of the chrome gleaming to a mirrored perfection. He stopped his bike ten feet away, pulled off his helmet, and ran a hand through his shoulder-length mane of tousled golden-brown hair. His eyes were the same tawny gold, his shoulders broad beneath a snug black V-neck T-shirt that he’d paired with jeans and intimidating black leather boots. He hung the helmet on a gleaming handlebar, swung a strong thigh over the back of the bike, and walked toward us, followed by his only sister, Fallon.
She was Jeff’s girlfriend, a slight woman of surprising strength, with warm eyes and long, wavy hair in the same multihued shades as her brother. She rode the bike directly behind his, wore a skirt with boots and tights, a gray tank under a short-sleeved leather top with lots of pleats and zippers.
The other shifters were male, with broad shoulders, plenty of leather, and generally dour looks.
Gabriel nodded at my grandfather, at Jeff, then looked at Ethan.
“Sullivan,” he said, then glanced at me. “Kitten. He’s one of ours?”
“We don’t know if he’s one of the Pack’s,” Ethan said. “But he’s definitely a shifter, so we wanted to give you the opportunity to find out.”
We escorted him to the body, and Gabriel crouched by the fallen shifter, his leather boots creaking with the movement. Elbows on his knees, hands linked together, he looked slowly and carefully over the body, his gaze finally settling on the wounds at his throat.
The silence was thick and to my mind, threatening.
“His name was Caleb Franklin,” Gabe said. “He was a Pack member—a soldier. A shifter who helped keep order in the territory. He’d go on runs with Damien, actually.”
Damien Garza was a tall, dark, and handsome shifter with a quiet personality, a dry wit, and an exceptional hand with an omelet.
Gabriel stood up. “But Caleb’s not a Pack member anymore. He defected.”
Ethan’s eyebrows lifted. “He left the Pack by choice?”
“He did.”
“Why?” Ethan asked.
“He wanted more freedom.”
Since the Pack was all about freedom—the open road, communing with nature, good food, and good drink—I guessed we weren’t getting the full story. The look on Ethan’s face said he didn’t entirely buy it, either. But this wasn’t the setting for an interrogation of the Pack Apex.
“The vampire?” Gabriel asked.
“We gave chase, but he got away.”
Gabriel nodded, noticed the bandage on my arm. “And got you in the process.”
“Handgun through the window of a beat-up Trans Am. I don’t suppose that vehicle rings any bells?”
He shook his head, glanced at Fallon. She shook her head, too.
“He did this in a relatively public space,” my grandfather said, “but he was eager to get away.”
“We found something else,” I said, gesturing down the alley.
We walked toward the pedestal—a human, two vampires, three shifters, and two sorcerers, all of us impotent in the face of death.
Fallon, Gabriel, and my grandfather studied the pedestal.
“Alchemical,” my grandfather said.
“And the Merits are two for two,” Catcher said. “That’s as far as we’ve gotten. We can pick out individual symbols, but we don’t know what they mean in context.” He glanced at Gabriel. “This mean anything to you?”
Gabe shook his head. “I can feel the magic but don’t recognize it.”
“It’s weird, isn’t it?” All eyes turned to me. “I mean, it has a weird edge. A sharp edge.”
“Metallic,” Mallory said, nodding. “That’s the nature of alchemy.”
