“Where does the Brotherhood of the Midnight Sun find the cash to do this?” Odessa spoke into her headphones as the helicopter swooped low over the vast expanse of forest.

“Every Arctic werewolf who works in the human world donates a percentage of his or her earnings to the cause,” Wilder explained. “Since that fund may not be touched for centuries, it can build up to a vast amount of money. Moving seven people around the globe is a logistical nightmare that can prove to be expensive. It’s useful to know that I don’t have to watch the bank balance.”

Madden was piloting the first helicopter while Sebastian flew the one that followed. Odessa was traveling in the helicopter with the seven members of the brotherhood. In the other one, Gunnar and Angrboda were supervising an increasingly nervous Alexei. Since Emina lived just about as deep inside the mountainous region as it was possible to get, there was no way they could land close to her home. They were flying over the area where she lived to get a look at the surrounding woodland, before landing on the edge of the forest and hiking the rest of the way.

“There.” Odessa pointed to the base of one of the white peaks.

Lowell craned his neck at a near impossible angle. “I can’t see anything.”

Madden brought the helicopter around again, banking at a steeper angle. They still couldn’t see anything. Even Odessa, who knew what she was looking for, slumped back in her seat in frustration.

“Fuck,” Samson muttered. “How does your mother live here? I’m a werewolf and I’m not sure I could survive out here.”

“She lives off the land. Although she has a house that she uses for shelter, she hunts and forages. My mother is old school. She doesn’t believe in modern society.” The expression in Odessa’s eyes was difficult to read. Lowell wondered if her Emina’s eccentricity was responsible for much of her daughter’s inability to get close to people. “For humans or werewolves.”

He noticed the way she cradled her right hand protectively against her chest. Since Alexei had told her what the mark on her palm meant, she seemed more aware of it than ever. He leaned forward and touched her arm, gesturing to her hand as he spoke into his headphones. “We’ll find a way to get rid of that.”

She nodded gratefully, lowering her hand to her lap. “I hate that they can find all of us because of something that has marked me.”

Madden’s voice crackled through their headphones. “I can’t get any lower than this. Lowell, are you okay if I take us back to the edge of the park?”

It was an unwritten rule in the brotherhood that the person with the most knowledge of the mission took charge. That will be me, then. Lowell examined the feelings provoked by his newfound responsibility. In the past he had always believed he would detest the idea of having the leadership of the brotherhood thrust upon him. He was the least outgoing member of the group. An alpha male certainly, but in this pack, he had always been happy to follow rather than lead. Now? He welcomed his leadership role. Embraced it because it meant he could do this his way. Could lead the operation the best way to get the results he wanted. And the results he wanted would mean Odessa would be safe and whoever was responsible for this nightmare would be brought to justice. The method by which he would achieve that? He hadn’t thought that through . . . and he didn’t really care.

“Take us back.”

The helicopter base was near a large picnic area and everyone alighted from the craft and congregated together. Wilder handed out backpacks containing essential items including water and a change of clothing. Odessa was surprised when he gave her and Lowell a two-way radio, but did not seem to feel anyone else would require one.

“Surely if the others get lost they will need to be able to communicate as well?”

“The brotherhood can communicate telepathically with each other, and the goddess also has psychic powers. You are the only one who may need the radio,” Wilder said.

“Way to make me feel dysfunctional,” she murmured to Lowell as they began to follow one of the tourist trails through the first line of trees.

“Why do we need to bring him?” Samson asked, pointing to Alexei. “Surely we could tie him to a tree and let him take his chances with the bears?”

The words caused Alexei to give a nervous squeak and cast a look over his shoulder.

“He might be a useful bargaining chip with his girlfriend,” Lowell said. “Besides, if he manages to get away and provide information to his Hellhound friends, we have a whole other problem.”

He hadn’t told the others yet about Alexei’s revelation that he had seen Chastel last month. He wanted to deal with the most pressing problem first. They needed to make sure that Odessa’s mother was safe. There were too many questions surrounding that. Who was Serena? They knew she was a Hellhound, yet she was also a werewolf. The two facets to her persona did not fit together. They knew she had an obsession with Odessa that dated back at least two years. But where and how had that obsession developed? Was it sexual, or was there another reason behind it? She had seemed content to worship Odessa in a harmless way, by working alongside her. Until Florida. Now, suddenly, her fixation had developed a darker side.

Was Serena working alone, or was she acting on orders? Alexei didn’t seem to know any of these things. For someone who had lived and worked alongside Serena for the last two years, he knew remarkably little about her. It was increasingly clear that he had been totally under her influence, obeying her orders blindly without once questioning why. He was the perfect dupe, and Lowell doubted they would get any more information from him. He also very much doubted Alexei would be any use as a bargaining chip . . . but he wasn’t prepared to discount any possibility at this stage.

Lowell wondered if the person Alexei had seen really was Chastel. The guy was pretty confused and lacking in knowledge about the whole situation. It seemed clear that Serena was the brains behind this—whatever this might prove to be. If Lowell blurted out information that Chastel was still alive on the strength of something Alexei had said, it would not only derail this mission and give it a different focus, it would provide them with a whole new set of problems. Ones he didn’t want start thinking about right now.

It soon became clear that Alexei was going to be a liability in more ways than one. He couldn’t keep up with the werewolves and, despite his nervousness, he was soon complaining about the pace, the heat, the insects and the inadequacy of his shoes.

Lowell halted the group with a snarl. “I’m not putting up with this crap from him for the next few hours.”

“We could kill him,” Samson said hopefully. “Even the goddess couldn’t complain. He’s not a real werewolf.”

“I don’t condone any unnecessary killing.” Angrboda’s lofty reminder came from the rear of the group.

“Leave him with us,” Gunnar said. “There is no reason for all of us to proceed. The goddess and I can watch over him and make sure he doesn’t get away. We’ll see you back at the helicopter base.”

Having decided that was the best option, the brotherhood and Odessa left the track and continued into the denser forest. Lowell had no qualms about leaving Alexei with Gunnar. Their former leader might no longer be part of the brotherhood, but he was still a powerful werewolf, more than capable of subduing Alexei should it prove necessary. And he had a goddess with him for support. As captors went, it would be hard to think of two people who were better qualified than those who spent every day guarding Fenrir.

As they progressed Lowell was reminded of the enchanted forests in the fairy tales of his childhood. This one beckoned them deeper into its pulsing heart. Its haunting song called to them and he could sense the restlessness growing among his companions. Hoods of black shadow hung in the groves. Coils of vaporous mist lingered, writhing around his ankles like a conjurer’s smoke effect, sensuous and illusory. Most of the time a sepulchral silence hung over the ground. Nothing stirred, shone, or sang. Now and then, the flutelike piping of a songbird rent the silence.

Mahogany-brown tree trunks soared heavenward like ancient sentinels guarding the path. The bark looked like rendered chocolate with gems of amber clinging to the crusty exteriors. Lowell’s sharp ears picked up the metallic tinkling sound of a stream and he caught a glimpse of its tinsel bright ribbon through the lace of leaves.

Once they were deep enough into this soul-enriching paradise, Lowell called a halt. “We can move faster than this.”

There was a collective sigh of relief as everyone began to remove their clothes. Odessa felt uncomfortable stripping off in front of a group of men she didn’t know, but Jenny, sensing her apprehension, drew her to one side.

“It used to bother me at first, but then I realized they look on it as a job.” She gestured to the six men who were now all naked. “They are doing this because they need to shift, not because they want to get a look at our tits.”

Odessa exhaled. “Okay. Let’s do this.” She shrugged swiftly out of her clothing.

Jenny nodded encouragingly. “There. That wasn’t so bad, was it? And, while they might not be sneaking a look at us, we get a peek at six hot naked guys.” She giggled naughtily.

“What are you laughing about?” Lowell asked suspiciously, when they returned to the group.

Blushing, Odessa shook her head. Within seconds, they had shifted and the eight wolves broke into a run, bounding together through the trees.

* * *

The female Siberian led the way. Since she was much smaller, and had an injured right paw, the accompanying Arctics modified their strides to match hers. Their spirits lifted as the forest enveloped them, wrapping them in its familiar, sap-sweet fragrance. As werewolves, they had learned to cope in the human world. More than cope. Their powerful wolf instincts enabled them to become successful in their human lives and enjoy all that the mortal world had to offer. But there was always a sense of being trapped. Of subduing the most important part of themselves. A werewolf was half wolf, half human. Both parts were equally important, but sometimes the wolf rebelled against the constraints imposed by society. They had learned to walk in skin, but they needed to remember how to run in fur. Sometimes the wolf didn’t want to wear the clothes, pay the taxes, and hold down the job.

Sometimes the wolf craved this. Freedom. The dank smell of the earth combined with the aromatic scent of pine and loam. The soft rustling sounds in the undergrowth. The feel of the dirt and dried leaves underfoot. The blue pinpricks of light forcing their way through the canopy of branches overhead. The forest rejuvenated them, and they covered the miles swiftly, pausing only occasionally to drink from the crystal waters of the streams.

The ground grew steeper until the tallest of the white peaks could be seen looming above the trees. The Siberian wolf halted, her flanks heaving and her tongue lolling. Through a gap in the trees, her pale eyes viewed a clearing beyond which a large, wooden house could just be seen. It was so perfectly in keeping with its surroundings it might almost have been part of the landscape.

Lowell shifted back and the other wolves followed his lead. Naked, the group crouched low in the woodland, scanning the area with keen eyes. There was no sign of life.

“Anything?” Lowell turned to Samson, the brotherhood’s best tracker. His senses were so keen, he could sometimes even pick up the emotion of a scene.

Samson sniffed the air. “Nothing.” He frowned. “And I mean nothing. I don’t think there’s anyone here.”

Lowell turned to Odessa. “Could your mother have gone away?”

“Only if she’s changed the habit of a lifetime.” He raised his brows and she elaborated. “Ever since my father left her, I have never known her leave this area. The farthest she ever goes is into the forest to hunt, forage or to gather firewood. If she isn’t here, there is something very wrong.”

Samson’s detection skills might be stronger, but to Odessa the scents here were evocative, stirring up memories of her childhood. Emina had never been intentionally cruel, but to a child who longed for more, this place had been a prison from which Odessa had always cried out for escape. Intensely creative, her dreams of an artistic future had always been quashed by her dominant mother. Emina believed that her way was the only way. Fiercely loyal to Santin, she was nevertheless disappointed in the mate she had chosen. Her Siberian alpha had let her and her cub down. Over and over. Her dreams of marriage to a prince had been cruelly dashed. Her handsome hero was never there to provide for them and Emina had retreated further into her own world. Her human had become a hermit, her wolf satisfied by this forest home.

Living vicariously through her beautiful, spirited daughter, she had attempted to raise Odessa in the belief that the only things that mattered were her Siberian heritage and her position in the pack. Looking back, Odessa could see her own determination to leave the White Mountains for what it was. An act of rebellion against the years of enforced conformity. Years of doing it Emina’s way. Years of living in this clearing, just the two of them, never seeing another soul, preparing for the day when she would lead the Siberians.

The sights, sounds, and scents of this place brought it all flooding back. It also reminded her that, no matter how aloof and strange Emina might be, Odessa still loved her mother. Swallowing the sudden rush of tears that came hard on the heels of the thought, Odessa turned to Lowell.

“What now?”

“We need to get into the house and check it out, see if we can discover what has happened. Samson may be able to pick up a scent of what has gone on.” He glanced around the clearing. “Tell me about the property.”

“This is where my mother was brought up. Hers is the largest house, the one we can just about see. Behind that, there are the remains of what was once a small community. The other werewolves who lived here left long before I was born.” She smiled reminiscently. “It became my playground, my own private theme park. There is also a well, but that became disused long before my mother’s time. It never mattered because there is a stream close by. There is no other property nearby and no roads or tracks for miles around.”

His eyes scanned her face. “It must have been a lonely life.”

“Endlessly.” She raised her eyes and saw understanding in his face. It caused a tug deep in her heart to feel that connection to him about something she had always kept so deep within herself. “That’s the way my mother likes it.”

“Are you ready to take us inside the house?”

She rose from her crouching position and they moved forward as a group, using the shelter of the trees to approach the house from the rear. Emina had no need for locks on her doors and Odessa made her way up the shallow steps to the porch before opening the front door. Lowell was at her side as she stepped into the familiar gloom of the hallway.

Despite her eccentricity, Emina was a proud housekeeper and the house smelled of the pine soap she made herself and the apples she stored in the basement. The furnishings had been there for as long as Odessa could remember. Handmade wooden items, lovingly restored by her mother, brightened by woolen rugs and throws that Odessa had recently brought from New York.

“Mother?” Even as she called out, the silence told her the house was empty. Which was probably just as well. She couldn’t imagine what Emina’s response would be to her daughter’s arriving with seven naked strangers. And on that subject . . .

“I can find some clothing in my old room for me and Jenny. The rest of you will have to make do with towels.”

“We’re used to improvising,” Lowell said. “But I’ll come up the stairs with you while the others search down here.”

The little room under the eaves that had been hers as a child brought back memories. Waking with the birdsong, falling asleep when darkness came. No books, television, or computer games. This was where she had lived inside her own imagination, telling herself stories of the Nine Clans of the Iron Wood, dreaming of escape to another life.

“Home.” She turned to Lowell with a half smile.

“I used to think this was the sort of seclusion I would welcome. No people around me, no distractions, just peace and tranquility.”

“Used to?” She quirked a brow at him. “What changed your mind?”

“You did.” His voice was gruff. “Let’s get what we need and get back to the others.”

Jolted by his words, she tugged on underwear, jeans, sweatshirt, and sneakers before finding a similar outfit for Jenny. Going through to Emina’s room, she opened a trunk and found towels for the men. During recent years Odessa had brought some modern comforts to her mother’s home on her visits. She was never sure whether Emina liked them. These towels didn’t appear to have been used.

The group—all now decently covered—gathered in the kitchen.

“Did anyone find anything?” Lowell asked.

“Does your mother smoke?” Samson was concentrating hard, still sniffing the air around him, his eyes half closed. “Specifically, does she smoke menthol cigarettes?”

“No.” Odessa had the strangest feeling that a giant hand had squeezed all the oxygen out of the room and replaced it with dread. “But Serena does.”

“Someone who smokes menthol cigarettes has been in this room very recently.” Samson shot an apologetic look in Odessa’s direction. “The mood wasn’t good. There was anger.”

“I can imagine. My mother wouldn’t take kindly to a stranger coming into her house.” She could picture Emina’s outrage.

“There was more than one stranger. There were at least three people here.” Samson tilted his head. “The anger soon became fear. I’m sensing a fight. It must have been a desperately uneven one.”

Odessa swallowed hard. “Can you tell what happened next?”

Samson moved toward the door. “The scent is stronger here.”

Odessa led him outside. Beyond the rear of the house, the ramshackle outbuildings clung to the base of the mountain like children clustering around their mother’s skirts. Samson pointed to a series of deep, dark gouges in the ground. “Something, or someone, has been dragged across this patch of ground very recently.”

He dropped into a crouch, frowning as he sniffed the air. His face was puzzled as he scanned the area around the gouge marks.

“What is it?” Odessa hadn’t thought it was possible for her dread to increase any further. She found she was wrong.

Samson shook his head. “This scent. I’ve only smelled it once before.” When his gaze took in the other brotherhood members it was tinged with confusion. “When I was tracking Fenrir.”