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Zee peered into the trees, searching for our grumpy vampire.

“We could have gone south . . . somewhere warm. Could be on a beach sipping cocktails, rubbing oil all over you⁠—”

“You hate sand.”

“I also hate mist, the damp, polyester, frogs, and whatever the fuck this oppressive, suffocating, spooky atmosphere is.” He huffed and stomped on. “Kitten, are we rescuing Daddy Spice again?”

“Maybe?”

With a dramatic eye roll, Zee strode into the gloom.

We tracked the scuffs and turned-over leaf litter for what felt like miles, our steps noisy in the thick silence.

Zee looked up and whispered, “Tracks stop here. She took whoever she has up there, maybe? Or, I dunno . . . There’s nowhere else to go.”

“Can you poof up there?”

“Sure, if you want our location lit up with purple fireworks.”

There wasn’t much around, just more trees and a wall of brush that seemed like a great place to hide if you happened to be a seven-foot shapeshifter. Closing in on the bushes, I found a slight gap in their knotted foliage and shoved my way between the thorns.

A ravine opened up on the other side, like a huge gash in the earth, with a small creek all the way at the bottom. That drop had to be near a hundred feet.

Sudden movement snagged my senses. A cool hand slammed over my mouth, and Victor purred in my ear. “It’s me, my dear. Do not fear.”

I hadn’t been afraid. In fact, I’d gone from startled to intrigued, and now I was distracted by having his firmness folded around me and his lips tickling my ear.

“You could say hello like a normal person,” Zee whispered, creeping in to join us in the brush.

“The loup-garou has a den in the side of the ravine, tucked under the cliff edge,” Victor explained, taking his hand from over my mouth and shifting it to rest softly—and comfortingly—around my neck.

“It’s Jenny,” I told him. “She’s the loup-garou.”

His dark-lashed eyes widened. “Ah. Unexpected and disappointing, but perhaps not surprising.”

“Where’s Duke?” I asked, still distracted by Victor’s thumb now gently stroking my jaw. He probably didn’t even know he was doing it.

“The beta werewolf headed into the ravine, perhaps to find a route inside the den. Unfortunately, werewolves when shifted are difficult to communicate with. I do not know his intentions.”

“Do you think she has Galbraith in there?”

“Undoubtedly. The blood trail vanishes over there, but picks up again by the edge here.”

“Alive?” Zee asked.

“Possibly. If he is, he’s unconscious. There haven’t been any sounds of a struggle.”

“Alright, we’re here, so . . . how do we do this?” The bottom of the ravine was a long way down. Long enough that a fall would kill most things, and would definitely ruin my day. Zee had wings, but I didn’t, and Victor could probably scale the cliff edges. If I had my claws out, I might be able to scramble down.

“I could translocate outside the den, but not inside without seeing the layout. Don’t wanna end up with Gen Z on my insides.”

“We don’t know what we’d be walking into. Luring her out is more likely to result in our success,” Victor added.

“How do you lure out a loup-garou?” I asked.

“Wait.” Zee thrust out a palm. “I got this.” He stretched his arms and cracked his knuckles. “Gen Z is literally named after me.” And with that, he hopped off the cliff edge and flapping his wings, descended into the ravine. As he hovered about halfway down, he started speaking in riddles. “For real, for real, your den is literally givin’ right now, girl,” he called. “The aesthetic so understated slay. Major earth-core vibes, bestie. Need me a natural setup like this, for real. Touch grass? Nah girl, you're livin’ the grass aesthetic on god!”

“I have no idea what he’s saying,” I admitted.