By the time Ash woke up, Hyssop was already sitting on the table in his sun-washed kitchen, staring out at the small backyard of the brownstone his apartment was in.

“What your friend is doing . . . it cannot continue,” she said without preamble. “The girl is human. I dreamt it. I knew she would be, and she is.”

“Can I get you some coffee?” he asked, a little alarmed. Hyssop had been sleeping in Prospect Park, by choice. She almost never came inside. Had she gotten in through a window or something? Was his apartment not actually burglar-proof? “We’ve got some Jamaican stuff from Trader Joe’s that is really—”

“West’s clan. Do you know who they are? How to contact them?”

Ash hesitated. He wished Betony would drag herself out of his bed and come into the kitchen and help him with this.

“I . . . I guess I might,” he said reluctantly. He didn’t want to get West in trouble with his people. They didn’t hold him in especially high esteem as it was. He was in trouble with them all the time already, just by virtue of living in New York.

“Is that a yes?”

“Why, Elder?”

“They must be told, child. He may have left them for the city, for the human race, but he is still a son of their clan. He is still a bear. He told me himself that he does not plan to die here. He wants to go home someday, and he cannot do that if he violates this most ancient of laws. He will listen if they talk, even unwillingly.”

West had told Ash that he wanted to go home someday, too. He shifted uncomfortably.

“I heard talking,” said Betony’s voice over his shoulder. He was relieved to find her standing here, wearing a borrowed T-shirt.

Betony was a very pretty girl. Her hair was red, of course—she was a fox shifter from British Columbia—and her big eyes were ginger and gold. She had a slim, high-cheeked face with a small chin, a cute snub nose, and bunny teeth. Her slender, bendy little body made him hard, and he’d never been able to resist studding her, even though he knew he shouldn’t.

“Elder Hyssop wants us to let West’s clan know about . . . about the girl,” Ash said awkwardly.

“Oh.” Betony considered this. “Well, why not? You showed me her picture. She’s just West’s type, so I don’t think we can expect him to have a lot of defenses against her. It might be good if one of his own elders spoke to him and reminded him of what’s right and what’s wrong. He’s been in New York a long time, you know?”

“So have we,” Ash protested.

“Yes, we have. That’s why we wake up together sometimes,” she said pointedly. Normally, wolves never studded foxes, even for fun. It just wasn’t done. They broke an unwritten law every time they spent a night rutting. “We all do things wrong. But what he’s doing is very wrong. And very strange. Way beyond our crimes.”

“The girl speaks sensibly,” Hyssop said approvingly. “Betony, child, come to me.”

Obediently, Betony went to the elder. Hyssop held the girl’s lovely face in her dry, vein-crossed hands. “When will you go home, child?”

“I don’t know, Elder. Eventually.”

“I’ve forgotten. What do you do here, among humans? To make their money?”

“I’m a model, Elder.”

“Yes.” Hyssop stroked the girl’s thick red hair. It had a deep natural wave and was cut, fashionably, to her neck. “You’re not like West, are you, child? You’ll mate a fox.”

“Of course, I will.”

“Not a human.”

“Never. How could I? They wouldn’t understand me. And I can’t live in this world forever.”

“No,” Hyssop agreed. “It would not be safe for you or for your people. The privacy and secrecy we shifters live in must be protected. The truth of what we are must be protected, or we could all be destroyed. You both appreciate that, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Betony said.

“Yes,” Ash said, just as seriously. He knew it was a sacred trust. “But . . .”

“But nothing, Ash,” Bet interrupted. “West is risking us all.”

“You haven’t lost all your values or your sense.” Hyssop sighed, squeezing the fox girl’s shoulders.

“Elder . . . do you . . . do you want me to write to West’s people?” Ash asked, cringing.

Hyssop turned her silver-bright eyes on him. “You must, child. Warn them of what he is doing here. Warn them that he is losing himself. Warn them that their secret is in danger.”

Heavily, joylessly, knowing West would hate him for it, Ash agreed. He had to.

“Yes, Elder.”