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Magic was plentiful. Sunk into the cracks and crevices of wood and furniture, and stirring in the air as shifters communicated, moved, watched us pass.
We took the stairs to the second floor. The vintage North Woods look continued here, with golden log walls, patterned carpet, and old fishing and hunting gear on the walls. We steered down a hallway with named rooms—Superior, Michigan, Erie, Ontario—branching off, and into the final room on the right.
It looked like a former ballroom: vaulted log ceiling, river stone fireplace, plenty of windows. Threadbare stacking chairs edged the room, and there were more well-beaten leather couches and folding card tables in the middle of it. Shifters were scattered throughout, but I didn’t see Loren, Georgia, or the other members of her family. The space smelled of smoke and cigars, and magic peppered the air.
A man, leather-skinned and tendon-lean, came toward us as the other shifters watched. He wore jeans, boots, and a T-shirt, all of them equally scarred. His face was deeply lined, his hair a gleaming mix of black and silver that shagged to his neck.
We met in the middle of the room. “Keene,” he said. Unlike Loren, he didn’t offer a hand.
“Cash.”
He turned his gaze to me, briefly evaluated the threat, then shifted back to Connor. “Welcome to the resort, to clan territory. And who’s this?” Cash asked, although he obviously knew.
“Elisa Sullivan,” Connor said. “Daughter of Ethan Sullivan and Caroline Merit.”
“Vampire,” Cash said.
“Maison Dumas graduate,” Connor said. “OMB staff. Daughter of two Pack allies. Katana expert.”
I wondered if he was justifying my being at the compound—or his interest in me. Maybe both. Whatever the reasons, Cash’s expression didn’t change. I guess he didn’t care much for vampires.
“How’s Beth?” Connor continued rather than waiting for commentary on my qualifications.
“She’s fine. Shifted, healed.”
“Good,” Connor said. “What about her attacker? Did you find any evidence in the woods?”
“Evidence in the woods?” Cash’s tone was dry, and other shifters around the room chuckled. “Of what? There are hungry animals, shifters we know, shifters we don’t. Nothing more, nothing less. This was probably someone Beth pissed off who hasn’t come forward yet. Her generation has a lot of... conflict.”
“Does it?” Connor asked mildly.
“Look,” Cash began. “The clan’s getting younger. There are a lot of whelps around here, and they spend a lot of time talking and thinking. They have a lot of opinions.”
“They’ve shared those opinions with you?”
“Some.” His eyes went dark. “Nothing that needs to concern Chicago.”
Connor managed a surprisingly imperious expression. “I think Chicago can be the judge of that.”
Cash rolled his eyes. “They complain about not being known to humans, but they don’t know what life is truly like. What humans are truly like.”
“And the black armbands?” Connor asked.
Like the women last night, several of the younger shifters wore the black armbands. And none of the older shifters had them. Because they hadn’t been as close to Paisley or because they mourned differently?
“In honor of a shifter who recently passed.” Cash’s tone wasn’t complimentary.
“Paisley,” Connor said, and Cash didn’t quite manage to hide his surprise.
He nodded. “You know her?”
“I didn’t. You don’t like the armbands?”
“I don’t like the display of mourning. Life begins; it ends. That’s the cycle, and it’s perfectly natural, perfectly in tune with nature. I don’t approve of the sentiment or of the fact that they’re wearing something intended to distinguish them from others. Paisley’s death was a tragedy. But that’s all it was. You can’t go around assigning fault to every act of god. We’re shifters, for god’s sake.”
“So you think one of the younger shifters might have attacked Beth,” Connor said.
“It’s the most logical solution. I suppose it could have been someone outside the clan. A rogue shifter.”
