I didn’t care if I’d reached the ripe old age of six hundred something or other; I was calling bullshit on regular transportation. Sure, I’d gotten plenty of fun gifts and powers from all my papas, but not even one included the ability to teleport.

Bull. Shit.

I headed to Orlando International Airport and booked a last minute nonstop flight to New Orleans and snagged a return ticket for early afternoon the next day.

The woman behind the counter gave me a strange look and a hard time about my choice. “You want the 2:15 afternoon flight? Your plane doesn’t land in New Orleans until after midnight.”

“That’s fine.” I forced a smile to my lips and handed over my credit card. “It’s a short trip.”

I just hoped she didn’t look at me and immediately think drug mule. There were no heroin-filled balloons shoved up my ass, and I wasn’t meeting my dealer in a bathroom after I landed.

I napped on the quick flight, exhaustion pulling at me more and more the longer I remained infected. This better work. I wasn’t ready to leave my life behind. Not after I’d finally found happiness with Bry—and to a certain extent, Sam.

Once I landed, I rented a car that was no bigger than I was and headed for Keller’s ranch. The last time I’d seen him, he’d been growing herbs and herding goats. He’d isolated himself on his ranch more than an hour’s drive from the city.

At the time, I thought “Aw, cute goats.” Then I realized they were probably food or to be used in ritual sacrifices which… yeah. I’m all for killing, but cutting the throats of innocent animals? Not so much.

That’s when I’d begun crafting Operation: Getaway Goats.

It was part of the reason we’d broken up. Not the mission, but the killing. Well, a small part. He’d wanted rings and babies and I’d wanted a ride on a good time pony. That didn’t mean I hadn’t loved him then—and I still loved him a little now—but it just hadn’t been right. Now that I had Sam in my life, I knew that everything before now had prepared me for the hunky Angel o’ Destruction I called my mate.

I listened to the GPS system direct me down aged road after aged road. Potholes littered the streets, and the asphalt cracked and was entirely missing here and there. It was like fucking Deliverance out here, but with whacked roads and a shitty rental car instead of canoes and a river.

If I started hearing banjo music I was totally calling a hard pass on the entire situation.

The GPS had me make one last turn and I spied Keller’s ranch house in the distance. The long driveway stretched out before me, a hard-packed dirt path bracketed by high, overgrown weeds that swayed in the soft breeze.

As for his home… it was a little worse for wear. Patches of shingle had blown off the roof at some point, leaving behind swaths of black under layer that had been bleached gray by the sun. Old shutters swung on rusted hinges, and the wind dragged them back and forth as if nature wanted to rip them from the windows.

The closer I drew, the more ominous and oppressive the silence became. A cold finger scraped down my spine and I shuddered as a hint of unease crept into my body.

Quiet. What was with the quiet? Keller’s place was always filled with the bleating—

He didn’t have any goats. I swallowed hard. Had he moved on to sacrificing humans or tweens? I really didn’t feel like dealing with another crazed lunatic who thought human sacrifice was the way to power. That whole thing was getting old.

No way was Keller into that. Maybe the goats had just wandered off. The property was big enough for them to duck out of sight yet still be hanging around.

I didn’t care of I was lying to myself. Did. Not. Care. I was here to get healed. Period.

I stopped in front of the house and put the car in park before climbing from the vehicle. I scanned my surroundings, my eyes sweeping the yard for any sign of movement.

Nothing.

With a shake of my head I went to the porch and tromped up the steps.

“Keller!” I banged my fist against the door. “Open up. It’s Caith.”

No response. Still.

The shutter hinges squeaked and squealed as the wind tugged at the dried wood. Paint peeled away from the walls, the green coloring bleached and burned away by the sun.

I hopped from the porch and peeked through the dirty window, looking for any sign of movement within the home. It was still dark, the sun hiding behind the trees, but my wolf had no trouble peering through the gloom.

I was really tired of getting nothing.

“Keller!” I tapped the glass. Not even a rustle inside.

I backed away and glanced at my surroundings once more. From the run-down look of the house I couldn’t tell if my ex had neglected his maintenance or if he’d abandoned the property entirely. For all I knew, he’d moved and hadn’t bothered dropping a note in the mail.

I know we’re not bang buddies anymore but send future correspondence to…

I tipped my head back and inhaled deeply; searching the air for any hint of the man I’d once known—intimately. The wind swirled around me, the scents of dried grass, earth, and…

There. There was a lingering hint of Keller. It was faint, like he hadn’t walked the land in a while, but it still smelled like him. But it was just him, and there weren’t any new scents nearby.

I chewed my lower lip for a moment and then jogged down the driveway. I tugged open the mailbox and found a pile of mail stuffed inside—mostly junk—and all with Keller’s name printed on the envelopes. The oldest date was a couple weeks ago. So, maybe he was on a trip and forgot to stop the mail.

That was the obvious answer.

Now, a normal person would leave and come back later.

Satan’s niece, however… Well, I decided to make Uncle Luc proud.

“Fuck it,” I murmured and went back to the front door.

I hopped up the steps, picking up speed as I traveled, and slammed my boot heel into the door near the deadbolt. The old wood cracked and splintered, falling inward and throwing a cloud of dust into the air when it clattered to the ground.

If I found him, I’d pay for that. If not… I’d go to my standby reply.

It wasn’t me.

I stepped inside and took a look around. There was plenty to indicate that my ex had been letting the place go for a while. It also looked like it had been more than the few weeks that he’d been away. Old pizza boxes and Chinese takeout containers littered the floor, and piles of junk mail balanced on the edges of nearly every flat surface. The mail at the bottom of the closest stack was months old.

I sniffed the air as I moved deeper into the home and the stink of sweat, rancid food, and stale beer filled my nose. I sneezed, my wolf pushing the stench out of my nose, but it wouldn’t be easily banished.

Keller had always been a bit of a recluse, but… damn. In our youth, he’d hidden from society for fear of anyone discovering he was a werewolf. Later he’d been antisocial and behind the times, never managing to keep up with tech changes. I doubted he even had a cell phone.

How did he play Candy Crush?

I shook my head and scanned the entry. The poor state of the house spoke of more than his usual antisocial tendencies, though. I just wasn’t sure what was up with him.

I also wasn’t sure if I should pursue this any further. I was dying of some weird blue infection. I had ghouls to kill and funeral arrangements to make. Did I need to add, “hunt down my ex” to the list?

No.

But that didn’t stop me from going through the rest of the house. There wasn’t a single clue as to where Keller had gone. No indication that he’d packed for a long trip either. His clothes still hung in the closet and a couple of empty suitcases were tucked in the back corner with a thin layer of dust decorating them.

He hadn’t gone on vacation.

I continued searching the house, hunting for any clues about Keller’s recent activity. I only managed to find a leather-bound journal filled with chicken scratch notes. None of the entries were dated, but the paper was crisp and ink looked fresh, so they couldn’t be that old. The only problem was I didn’t recognize the language. The pages were filled with cryptic sentence fragments and arcane symbols—some I recognized from stuff I’d seen at Sorsha’s, but the rest were a mystery.

While I couldn’t read them, I figured they had something to do with healing magic. It made sense. Keller was healer and all that shit.

I tucked the journal into my bag along with a few other stray books I found lying around. Maybe Sorsha and Jezze could find something useful in his ramblings. If nothing else, discovering what he’d been working on might help track him down.

With no other leads, I headed back outside, taking the time to tug the door back in its frame before I split. I drove back to the city and spent the early morning hours seeking out any place where dems, gels, and tweeners gathered. No one knew where I could find Keller, but they all sure as hell knew his name.

No one mentioned DayGlo ghouls either. At least that was good news, right? The piece of shit magic-wielder hadn’t traveled this far north yet.

Grumbling about dead ends and a wasted day, I went back to the airport to wait for my flight. I flipped through Keller’s books, looking for something that could make this trip anything but a complete waste of time. Something in my gut twisted and told me I was missing something, something important, but…

But by the time I got on the plane bound for Orlando, my head was buzzing. Strange flashes flickered over my vision, refusing to be banished. Strange images floated in the air, bringing a wave of dizziness with each new view and leaving me disoriented. I tried to keep my eyes open, tried to focus on anything but the exhaustion that pulled at my mind.

And the pain… On High, but the pain in my wound flared. I felt as if someone had stabbed me with poison dipped knives, stealing my breath with every beat of my heart.

At least until I passed out somewhere over the Gulf of Mexico.

Goody.