Page 69 of Israel

“Will do,” Jace said.

“Even so, the kid can’t have been in two places at once,” Israel said. “He was in the damn car when Ashley’s room was broken into. So how could he get on the security footage? Is Jesse there?”

He heard some scuffling noises in the room, and then Jesse came on. “Yeah, just got here. And I have an answer to your question, but you’re not going to like it.”

“Don’t tell me, let me guess. Computer magic.”

“I’m afraid not,” Jesse said. “I think it’s magic magic.”

“What?” Israel said.

“I finally finished my analysis of the footage from the other incident, with the lilacs. The anomalies were caused by a cloaking spell. Like the ones Rachelle does.”

Or the one Larik did.

“So what is this guy?” Israel asked. “Warlock? Dragon?”

“Ki-rin, half-breed, genetically altered,” Jesse said. “There’s no way to tell.”

“Wait a minute,” Israel said. “Could he be a shapeshifter? Not like us, I mean the kind who can look like other human people?”

“Fuck,” Jesse said.

They were still talking, but Israel wasn’t even listening. He was running.

Ashley.

Israel keyed the room open and slammed through the door, but he already knew what he’d find. The bed was empty, except for Ashley’s ruined guitar. Her shoes were gone, and her jacket.

He knew exactly how that fucker had gotten her out of the room. He’d used his damned magic powers to look like someone she trusted. Harrison, or Enzo.

Or Israel himself.

He went back into the hallway, scenting the air, following her trail. It led down the hall away from the elevators, to the staircase at the far end. She had someone else with her, but the scent was confused.

He must be covering that with magic as well.

Israel pulled his gun before he pushed through the door, covering the stairs. There was no one there. He went down one flight at a time, clearing them, even though everything in him was screaming at him to hurry.

He ignored it. If he was going to die for Ashley, he had to do it when it would actually save her.

Two more flights, and then he could smell it—the scent of lilacs. And underneath that, another scent—a familiar one. One of the crew, but he couldn’t identify it. Not with that fucking lilac perfume filling his nose, filling his head, making him want to sneeze.

Not Ashley, he kept repeating to himself. Please, not Ashley. Don’t hurt her.

He was nearly to the basement level when he looked over the railing and saw a hand extending out from under the stairs. Blue nail polish and little diamonds sparkling in the stark fluorescent lights.

It was her.

His stomach lurched, and without thinking about the shapeshifter, he vaulted over the bannister and jumped the last story and a half. The landing on the hard concrete floor went straight up his spine, but he didn’t care. He knelt by Ashley.

Her eyes were open, but she wasn’t moving. Please, no. He saw her chest move, faintly, and relief flooded through him.

“Ashley?” He put his fingers to her neck, just to reassure himself. Her pulse was steady, but she just stared at him, not moving or speaking.

“Ashley? Can you move? Can you say something?” She just closed her eyes and opened them again.

She was drugged—some kind of paralytic. The psycho hadn’t taken her. He’d left her here, helpless.