O’Shea watched in fascination as Milly stiffened. “He wouldn’t hurt me, not while I’m pregnant.”

Faris’ eyebrows lifted. “Really? I think you should ask him—and make sure you tell him to be truthful about it.”

O’Shea knew a trap when he felt it tightening around him.

“Liam,” Milly said and Faris’ eyes snapped wide, staring hard at him.

“Stop. This is . . .Liam?”

Animosity flowed off the vampire; O’Shea could smell the anger and jealousy as if it were a fine bouquet. Fuck, what had he done to piss off the vampire?

Faris stepped close to him and took in a deep breath. “Oh, I see, you aren’t just a werewolf, are you?”

Liam felt the rage in the pit of his belly bubbling up and he fought to control it. Nothing he could do about it anyway.

They stood like that, toe to toe, nearly nose to nose. The scent of blood and death rolled around the vampire like incense coiling through a room. That wasn’t what got his attention though.

The smell of Rylee on Faris’ breath lit a rage in him he didn’t even try to hold back.

The fury broke up and through the hold Milly had on him; his arms twitched despite the torc. O’Shea wanted nothing more than to rip the smug vampire’s head from his shoulders, bathe in his blood, and . . . the images assaulting him stopped him cold. Not that he’d moved more than a twitch, but it was enough.

“I think you should let your” —Faris made air quotes with his fingers— “wolf,” then he laughed and went on, “go. I’d like to see what he kind of damage he could do on his own.”

Milly made eye contact with O’Shea. “Tell me the truth; would you protect me and the baby from anything?”

He snarled his answer, not caring if it damned him. “No. I’d let whatever monster wanted a piece of you take you and your god forsaken soul to hell along with whatever devil spawn you carry.”

She gasped and reeled backwards, a hand to her chest. As if she was truly shocked.

Faris laughed and patted O’Shea on the shoulder. “I think maybe I like you a little more. Agent Wolf.” The vampire leaned in and spoke softly. “But you should know, Rylee will be mine.”

He lifted blue eyes to his, the depths of them glittering with hatred.

“All of her will be mine.”

The rage spilled out of O’Shea, and with it he spoke of his own volition. “We’ll see about that.”

*-*-*-*

Will drove us out to the countryside. That was not terribly exciting; thank the gods for small mercies. I slept most of the way, the chatter of Pamela nattering at Will a good bit of background noise. My dreams were disjointed and disturbing. Milly killing Eve, Alex biting Pamela, O’Shea pinioned by stakes. That last jerked me awake with a gasp. I had never been a Dreamer, one of those people who prophesied via their nightmares. No, but that didn’t mean I didn’t take my dreams seriously. Sometimes they were trying to tell me something.

Like maybe I needed to go after O’Shea first. He wasn’t dead, the kids were.

Jack Feen’s’ voice seemed to drift over me. You made me a promise. Now f**king keep it.

Yeah, there was that. I did my best to push the dream away and looked around where we were. The rain sleeted sideways and gusts of wind actually pushed the car around on the dirt road. Add that into the dark night and it was a picturesque scene straight out of a horror movie. Fantastic, just what I wanted for night number two in London.

“Are we almost there?” I stretched my arms above my head and felt my spine pop from sleeping hunched over.

“Yes, a few more minutes. Then we walk.”

I glanced back outside. I wasn’t a prude about weather, shit I lived in North Dakota, so who was I to complain? But this was rain, not dry cold snow. Rain, lots and lots of rain. Lots and lots of wet.

A few minutes later, Will pulled into a, well, I suppose it could be called a turnoff. It looked more like an accidental dip to the right of the road. He was the first one out, Pamela followed, and I sat in the car looking out at the weather. Of course, Will didn’t need a flashlight, and we were to just blindly follow him in the dark, out in the woods, in the rain.

The weather wasn’t the issue, it was the whole trusting Will thing. I didn’t trust him, not fully. Pamela, I trusted her, even though she was a child. But that was just it, she was somewhat easy to read, she hadn’t learned yet to hide her emotions even with her tough upbringing. Yet, I’d been wrong about Milly. Was I wrong about Pamela too? Was I wrong to follow Will? I shook off my worries. No, I’d kill him if he made a step wrong. He wouldn’t be the first shifter I’d ended.

With teeth grit against the first gust of wind and rain, I stepped out of the car. The rain bitch slapped me, followed by a gust of wind that would make North Dakota proud.

“Let’s get this done,” I said. Why was it that every freaking Shaman or Shaman-like supernatural lived in the middle of butt-f**k nowhere? Seriously, couldn’t they find a nice apartment in town? Just once I’d like to have that as an option. Just bloody well once.

Pamela tucked in tight behind Will, and I followed the two of them. From time to time, I saw Will duck his head to speak to Pamela. I kept my eyes and ears open, wondering how exactly this was going to go down. Keeping my head up wasn’t easy; the rain was literally running in small rivers down my scalp and into the neck of my jacket. The front of my pants were soaked through, and already, I could feel the slight squish of water in my boots. I’d love to say at least the smell was fresh and refreshing, but it wasn’t. There was nothing I could smell over the heavy intrusion of water on my senses.

“If you don’t have a Shaman,” I said, raising my voice just enough to be heard over the wind. “What do you have?”

Will paused. “A Druid.”

I jerked my head up. “Really?” I knew Druids were still around, of course they were. But true Druids, like true psychics, weren’t easy to find, nor were they easy to get help from. The other part of the equation was that Druids, well, they weren’t known to be shall we say, personable. Every supernatural has their quirks, the things they’re known for.

Druids were known for being a**holes. Ambiguous, but still a**holes.

Earth powered, ambiguous, hide behind smoke and mirrors, a**holes.

Which, combined with my rapier wit, was probably not the best of combinations.

Will paused, turning green eyes toward me. “You must promise to be on your best behaviour. Please.”

I made a peace sign with my fingers and put them to my temple. “Scouts honor.”

“That isn’t how you make the scouts’ sign,” he grumbled, a visible shiver running down his spine.

“You okay?” Pamela asked, obviously seeing the same thing I was.

He cleared his throat, shook his head, and stepped back from us. “I’ll lead, but I have to be in my other form. If we get separated, you need to keep going. I don’t think she’ll give us another chance to speak with her. She’s funny like that.”

“Why would we get separated?” Pamela asked softly.

Will put a hand on her head. “My Destruction are the ones who keep the Druids safe. I’m on the outs with them.”

“Why?” I asked, not wanting any more politics than we already had.

Will shrugged, or I think he did in the dim light. “It’s complicated.”

“Fuck, isn’t it always.”

Will said nothing more and the conversation was over.

I beckoned for Pamela to step back behind me as Will’s body hit the ground. I’d never seen a shifter actually shift and the morbid curiosity had me by the throat for a split second.

“Pamela, turn around,” I said, as a visible tear in the skin along his face appeared. One hand on her shoulder, I tried to turn her alongside me, facing away from Will.

“I can take it,” she said, stiffening beside me.

“It’s not about you. Ever think he might not want an audience?”

She relaxed and turned her back; the rip of flesh was obviously painful if the soft groan he let out was any indication.

We stood there, backs turned to a creature that had skin-rending claws attached to all four limbs. It took everything I had not to grab for one of my swords. A soft whuffle, that noise only cats make, brought my head around.

Will was one big-ass kitty. The outline of his feline black body was barely discernible against the darkness around us.

“You do realize that following a black-as-sin cat in the middle of a stormy night isn’t going to be easy for us?” I grumbled, irritated by the whole situation. I just wanted to get this over with, to get back to London, find O’Shea and then go after Berget.

“I can make a light,” Pamela said, lifting her hand, and I had a vision of the forest burning down around us.

“Wait, you think that’s a good idea?” I put my hand on her arm.

“I can do it,” she snapped, jerking her arm away from me.

I shrugged. “Okay, but try not to burn the forest down.”

Will gave that soft whuffle again several times in a row, almost as if he were laughing.

A bloom of soft pink appeared above Pamela’s head. “There,” she said. “See, it’s not even real fire.”

“Hunky dory,” I grunted. “Let’s go.”

Will led, Pamela was in the middle with her pink glow ball, and I trailed behind. The deeper we went into the forest, the more my back itched. Like some bad movie cliché; we were being watched. Most likely by Will’s Destruction, if what he was saying was true.

Unable to stand the tension any longer, I loosened up my two swords and slid them noiselessly from their sheaths. It made me feel better to hold the weapons, to know I could use them quickly if need be.

The soft breath of air displaced was the only warning I had. I dropped to my knees and rolled as the creature leapt across me.

“Pamela, get down,” I yelled. Everything happened in a blur. Pamela hit the ground with a scream, her pink light going out, but the creature ignored her. It seemed more intent on our guide than anything.