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I waited for West to disappear from view and focused on my surroundings. Snowflakes landed on my coat and immediately melted. I ignored the wintry conditions and concentrated on connecting with Chutney. Of all my powers, this was the one that came most naturally to me, probably because it was the one supernatural skill I’d chosen to hone. In London, I’d worked as a finder of lost heirs and used the ability to earn a living. It also helped that communication with spirits was my most innocuous ability. As far as I wasconcerned, everything else involved the violation of boundaries. When I was younger, Pops worried that I’d lose control or go too far and end up unable to live with the consequences of my actions. I understood his fears. He was a mere mortal, saddled with the task of raising a goddess with incredible powers—Melinoe, goddess of ghosts and nightmares. I couldn’t imagine what it was like for him to discover his only granddaughter was an anomaly, a danger to herself and others. To his credit, he dedicated his life to training me. I owed him a debt of gratitude I’d never be able to repay.
I swept the area in my mind, searching for any sensations that indicated the ghost was afoot. “I command you to come to me, Chutney.”
Leaves rustled and detached from their branches as a gust of wind blew through the forest. I listened for any sign of Chutney’s ghost but heard only the normal sounds of the forest. Hooting. Scampering. Chirping.
No Chutney.
I tried again. “Chutney, this is the goddess of ghosts speaking. I order you to appear before me.”
No response. Odds were good that Chutney had already crossed over. If I’d been torn to shreds, I would’ve hightailed it out of this realm, too. Too traumatic.
West poked his head in the clearing. “Any luck?”
Weston Davies, patience personified. “He isn’t here.”
The alpha joined me in the copse. “You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
Somewhere nearby, a twig snapped. The sound elicited a ferocious growl from West as his head spun to the left.
“It’s us. Don’t shift,” a voice pleaded. The werewolf I mentally referred to as Beefy Bert emerged from behind a tree, followed by another member of the pack, Anna Dupree.
“Sorry, we didn’t know you’d be out here,” Anna said. She scowled at the sight of me. “Why are you with her?”
“Her name is Lorelei,” West said.
Anna knew my name. She also knew I was capable of more than communication with the dead. I’d met her at the local dive bar when I first moved to town and subdued her with one of her own nightmares. The werewolf had wisely kept that information confidential, mainly because I said what might happen to her if she didn’t. Anna had an attitude problem, but she wasn’t an idiot.
“We’ve been scouring the woods for hours,” Anna said. “Nobody knew where you were.”
“Bert and Anna were with Chutney last night,” West told me.
That explained the disheveled hair and the dark circles under their eyes.
“Did you notice anything strange last night?” I asked.
“Other than the fact that our friend was no longer in one piece?” Anna challenged.
West let loose another snarl that made the hair on my arms stand on end, so I could only imagine how it impacted Anna. The she-wolf lowered her head.
“I’m only here to help,” I said.
Anna lifted her head. “Help how? You’re not a wolf. What do you think you can do that we can’t?”
I took a step closer to her and looked her directly in the eye. “I would be more than happy to show you what I’m capable of.” A snowflake landed on the tip of my nose, which somewhat lessened the intimidation factor.
“Why not let her help, Anna?” Bert said. “Any more of this snow and we won’t be able to find those tracks.”
West perked up. “What tracks?”
“No tracks,” Anna insisted. “Bert was seeing things last night. He was high.”
“It was a beautiful night, and I was running through the woods on all fours. I was high on life.”
West’s nostrils flared. “What did you see, Bert?”
The other two werewolves exchanged uneasy glances.
