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“You think the Huntresses put their own teammates on time out?” I ask.
“Wouldn’t surprise me after the stupidity they pulled yesterday. Locking me in the arcade and then telling me they’d give me time to cool off before they questioned me. Cool off from what? And why’d they take off for hours? I’m just glad Bunny keeps master keys to open any door in the city.”
Devlyn and the Huntresses head our way, changing into skates and circling the lap like it’s no big deal they’re here after yesterday’s stunt. Or that it’s normal they’re the only women on the track without wings.
I glance their way, then back to the Gorgon they wronged.
Tisia shakes her head. “It’s not worth starting something over. Not yet anyway.”
I don’t get a chance to ask her then when because an eerie silence descends over The Rink. The clack of skates and flap of wings go quiet.
A line of white-robed Styx circle the mid-level, their matching blank masks a scary reminder that they know exactly what happens when we Furies reach the end of our second shots at life. The sight gives me shivers. Whispers swirl around us, and even the Mad Maes stop their twirling and drunken giggles.
“There’s been a death,” Tisia says softly. “Had to have been to get them to come above ground for something other than an official Syndicate-mandated gig.”
“Or there’s about to be,” I agree. The last time the Styx gathered there’d been the imminent threat of death involving several children victims who’d almost drowned. My stomach sinks. Please don’t let them be here about a kid.
Dread spirals through me, spinning as much as the other House members on skates circling to score a better look at the Styx or find out what’s going on.
Maizie and the other coaches move to the infield. I know by the curious expressions around me that I’m not the only one who’s shamelessly eavesdropping. Seconds crawl by with agonizing slowness while we wait.
In the stands, Bunny rushes toward Stone and Chase. After I get over the oddness of watching prey run toward predators instead of away from them, the truth hits me. Stone puts one big hand on Bunny’s shoulder and Chase rubs his lion shifter self against her as if offering comfort.
“Whoever died? They were a shifter,” I whisper to Tisia.
“You sure your marshal left on a plane this morning?”
My head pounds, and my stomach threatens to revolt. “I was until you asked that.” I don’t even question her calling Nolan mine. Right now, I want more than anything for him to cowboy swagger into The Rink and appear between Styx robes.
Maizie takes to the air. “Everyone back to your Houses. That is your coaches’ decision. Furies, do not leave your triads.”
I stall, waiting for my sisters to tell their shifter mates goodbye since their men insist on walking a heartbroken Bunny back to the staff quarters.
Hours later, Nolan still hasn’t shown. My sisters and I check on my garden as best we can with the Huntresses watching our every move. I won’t tip them off to the garden’s location.
“Come on,” Dottie says. “We’ll go wait near the swamp’s edge and see if we can spy the plane coming back.”
I appreciate her not making a big deal out of me missing Nolan. “Won’t matter much with the Huntresses itching to haul him in for questioning again.” But we go anyway because my restlessness worries my sisters.
Our swamp doesn’t hold the same brimstone sulfur and decaying rot stench of most marshes. It’s more citrus, cypress, and sweetness thanks to the immortal magic. The moon shines on the water yet the inky blackness swallows it instead of shimmering silver. The low hum of frogs and crickets comes from the woods. None would risk getting too close to the gators, harpies, and sea hags that populate our swamp.
When Stone and Chase come to check on their mates, I give them privacy by waiting at the water’s edge.
The roar of a seaplane has me glancing skyward. I haven’t seen an airplane in years. Sure, I’ve heard about how big commercial jets flew everywhere before the Witching Wars, before spotty electricity and tech had so many dropping out of the skies. Small planes and helicopters fared better in rural areas where the threat of collision was less. We even had a few fly over Nashville for military purposes or for the rare person who could afford the sky-high fuel prices without a care for their safety. But a barely-lit little plane that drops out of the sky and into the water? If he’s riding in that, Nolan has either no fear or no sense. Gods, I hope he’s in there.
“Marshal’s back,” Stone says. With the noise of the plane, I didn’t hear the grizzly shifter sneak up on me.
“Looks like.” So much for a smart comeback. “Any word on who we lost?” I use the term we when a week ago, I wouldn’t have considered a shifter other than my sisters’ mates to be much of a loss. How fast some things change.
“A wild boar sow visiting on a student-work visa from England. She was a pack chieftain’s youngest daughter. I didn’t know her, but she and Bunny had become friends.”
When I’d offered my condolences to Bunny, she stared at me as if I had spoken a dead language. Of course, I spent the last three years pushing anger onto any shifter who crossed my path, and now I learn that I blamed Lowell for something he didn’t do.
“Same as the other shifters?” I don’t want details. I know them all too well from my own murder scene.
“Exact same except no arrowhead. Or at least none that they found.”
“The killer’s here in Syn City.” I hate knowing whoever killed me and my family is out there free and still causing pain to other people’s loved ones.
