Sometime in the middle of the night, I woke with my head spinning. Only when the dizziness passed a few seconds later was I able to blink my vision clear and see Dennis glowering down at me from the foot of my bed. His once white shirt was torn open, revealing a gaping gory wound, as if something had latched on to his throat and shredded his torso with razor-sharp claws, rending bone, flesh, and viscera into tatters.

“Tell me why,” he said, his voice broken with anger.

His hands were clenched fists, but there was no sign of a pistol. I glanced about the room, noting the bedroom door was closed. My nearest weapon was the knife sheathed to the headboard of my bed, just above the lip of the mattress, but I wasn’t sure it would be effective against whatever Dennis had become. He certainly wasn’t among the living.

“You’ll tell me why you killed me,” he moaned. “And then you’ll die.”

I caught the slight dip of his hips just before he leapt. Tossing the top sheet aside, I spun off the bed, swiping the knife from the sheath in the process. My foot caught in the sheet, pulling it with me as I landed. I stumbled awkwardly on my feet, immediately dropping to a defensive posture with the knife raised, but Dennis was gone. Still on guard, I jerked my foot free and walked around the bed. No sign of blood anywhere. No scent left behind.

The bedroom door remained closed.

I slowly pushed open the bathroom door with the fingers of one hand. Empty. Glances at the floor revealed no sign of blood there, either. As I turned back toward the bedroom, something bright in the waste bin caught my attention. Tipping it with the point of the knife, I saw the waitress’s silver necklace I’d tossed there previously.

I spent the next several minutes searching every corner of the house and found no sign that Dennis had ever been inside. The front and back doors remained shut and locked, as were the windows. Believing I’d missed something, I searched once more. Finally assured, I returned to my room, dropped the knife onto the end of the bed, then sat next to it.

I don’t believe in ghosts, I thought, leaning forward as I slowly ran my hands through my hair and caught my breath. How else could I explain the lack of evidence that Dennis had ever been in my house? For the first time, I wondered if I was losing my edge. His wasn’t the only death I’d caused in my life, and no matter how careful I was, his likely wasn’t the last. Guilt was dangerous. Until that moment, I’d efficiently kept it at bay. Had it finally caught up to me? My mind drifted to the dizziness that afflicted me just before each encounter with the dead detective.

That’s not my imagination, at least.

Unable to manufacture an answer, I glanced at the clock on my nightstand. It was three in the morning. My body vibrated from adrenaline. I doubted I’d get back to sleep before sunrise. Unsure what to do, I sat there with my conscience, trying to wipe the vision of Dennis from my mind. It clung stubbornly, etched in vivid guilt. Unable to shake it, my gaze drifted toward the open bathroom door and the waste bin just inside. Uncertainly at first, I rose and walked over to stare down at the delicate silver chain laying haphazardly there.

I scowled.

Turning my attention to the counter, I drew a fresh tissue from the box and reached down to pinch the silver between my fingers, then raised the chain to dangle at my eye level. Like all were-animals, I’d spent my life fearing silver. The mere touch of it seared flesh, causing nearly unbearable pain while simultaneously inhibiting our natural healing ability. Nearly.

Carrying it back to my room, I returned to the edge of the bed and dangled the chain once more. The image of Dennis, his torso torn open, remained vivid in my mind, refusing to leave me in peace. Without thinking, I extended my forearm, then slowly rested the end of the chain onto my skin. Searing pain erupted in my mind, burning away Dennis and guilt and anything else. As I slowly piled the chain onto my arm, there was nothing at all but cleansing pain.

I endured it, clenching my teeth and forcing myself to breathe. In. Out. In. Out. Pain was a weakness I could control. Burning. Searing. In. Out. When I thought I couldn’t endure more, I took one more breath, then slowly lifted the chain, leaving a winding, blistering, black-and-red tattoo where it had lain across my flesh. Keep breathing. In. Out. I closed my eyes and endured the aftermath, resisting the urge to get up and treat my wound. Slowly, steadily, the biting pain dulled and faded as my natural healing ability took over.

I sat silently, enjoying the comforting clarity of mind as the pain receded. After a long moment, I transferred the necklace to my left hand and repeated the process on my right forearm.

By midmorning, I’d still not received a message from Caroline. After a run and a shower, I donned a long-sleeved t-shirt to cover the fading wounds on my forearms, then met Josh at the retreat’s library. From the look of him, he’d already been at the walnut table for hours. His hair was more disheveled than usual, and he had a focused intensity as he glanced up from a book to greet me.

Without formality, he gestured to two books that were farthest away from him. “Dive in,” he said. I slipped into the chair across from him, picked up one of the books, and started skimming for anything that might help us understand the Clostra. While I focused on a single text, Josh’s attention wandered from one to the other and then back again in some sort of logical flow that only made sense to him. While I could help with the research, the bulk of the work fell to Josh, and he was tireless in his drive for answers.

After hours of quietly poring through books, I sat back in my chair, rubbing the strain from my eyes. Lack of sleep was getting to me. My mind drifted to the memory of Dennis standing in my room. While I wasn’t willing to discount him as a figment of my guilt, I thought to pursue another possibility.

I watched as Josh turned his head from one open book to another. “Have you ever encountered a type of mind magic?” I asked, not entirely clear how to word my inquiry.

He paused and blinked at me. “Why do you ask?”

I couldn’t explain, not without revealing my role in the detective’s fate. I held my brother’s gaze evenly, waiting as if he hadn’t asked the question. Eventually, he gave up and answered.

“It’s out there, but it’s rare.”

“Why rare?”

He sighed, anticipating a prolonged disruption to his study, then leaned back in his chair. “It would be difficult to detect if someone was under the influence of that kind of magic, which makes it dangerous. A talented mind witch could wreak a lot of havoc. Plus it’s a specifically hereditary talent, which means it would be easy to eradicate by cutting off the bloodlines that carry it.”

By killing off the bloodlines, just as we killed off the dark elves. “They’ve all been eliminated?”

Josh shrugged. “There are probably a few bloodlines that went underground. I’ve never encountered a practitioner, or their magic.”

“Any idea how it works?” I asked.

“No.” His eyes narrowed as he scrutinized me. “If you tell me why you’re asking, I could probably be of more help.”

Frowning, I glanced out the nearest window. When I’d arrived at the retreat, it had been a clear day, yet a heavy rain angrily battered the pane.

“Coffee?” I asked, rising.

His lips thinned as he shook his head at me. “Why do I bother to ask?”

“Precisely.”

In the kitchen downstairs, I found the pot empty and growled. Josh, probably. I changed the filter, added the grounds and water, then wandered out of the kitchen while I waited for the coffee to percolate.

I found Gavin pacing angrily in the entryway of the house, glaring at the door as if waiting for someone. He saw me and stopped.

“The Master of Mischief is here,” he said with a sardonic tone. “And his sister.”

“What?” I asked, baffled. The Master of Mischief could only mean Gideon, but there was no reason for an elf to be in the pack’s retreat, not without my involvement, a damn good reason, and plenty of negotiation beforehand.

Gavin returned to pacing, his mood darkening. His tone was full of accusation as he stated, “Winter brought him.”

Before I could demand an explanation, Dr. Baker came through the door, removing and hanging his wet coat in a hurry. He was a tall, slender man with silver hair. Mercury rises tonight, I remembered, noting his normally calm demeanor was replaced with an agitated look. He should be home, preparing. As a were-tiger, he was like all felidae, subject to Mercury in the same way that canidae were subject to the moon, but the anticipation of Mercury affected each differently. For Dr. Baker, the anticipation put him on edge, sometimes severely.

“What happened?” he asked both of us as he strode toward the clinic.

“Skylar is fine,” Gavin called after him.

Dr. Baker turned, confused.

“She called you here to treat Gideon.”

“She said Sky was injured.”

“That’s because she knew you wouldn’t come to treat an elf.”

I unclenched my jaw. “Abigail?”

Gavin nodded. If Winter had a weakness, it was her some-time lover, Gideon’s sister. As the son of Darion, one of the elves’ most beloved leaders, he would have no trouble receiving the best treatment that their kind could provide. While Dr. Baker’s reputation as a miracle worker was well deserved, he had minimal experience working with the other supernatural races. If Abigail wanted his help, something was amiss—or afoot; she was ambitious, and cunning.

The rain, I realized, frowning. As an elemental elf, Gideon was able to manipulate the weather in a localized area. If he were injured or sick, he might do so unconsciously.

Dr. Baker’s brow tightened into a knot as he glanced between us, then he turned with a scowl and continued on toward the clinic. I followed him while Gavin remained behind.

Dr. Baker pushed through the double doors with me close behind. Inside, we found Gideon laying supine on one of the beds, his eyes closed. His twin sister anxiously stood over him. The pair were tall and thin, with blond hair that Abigail wore longer. Like most elves, they were unusually attractive, with handsome narrow faces, aquiline noses, delicate lips, and long lashes over expressive violet eyes.

Winter stood close to Abigail, deliberately avoiding my gaze. Sky was there as well.

There’s a surprise.

She seemed pointedly determined to ignore my presence.

Dr. Baker took in the situation at a glance. “He shouldn’t be here,” he insisted, directing his attention to Gideon.

Winter tried to explain. “I know but—”

“No,” he snapped, jarring her. “There are no excuses. He shouldn’t be here. What you have done is unacceptable, and you know that.” His voice softened as he added, “You’ve never been able to deny her, which has always been your problem. That weakness cannot become our problem, and you promised it wouldn’t.”

“He’s here now,” she said gently. Her expression was pleading as she asked, “Will you please just look at him?”

He patted her shoulder comfortingly. “I will see what I can do.”

Abigail’s violet eyes watched with an anxious intensity as he gently lifted one of Gideon’s eyelids, then the other. “When did this happen?”

Who did it was the question on my mind. Gideon had been expected to take the leadership role after his father’s demise, but he’d refused. As the story went, he preferred his free-living ways to the constricting demands of leadership, but I suspected he feared the incredible expectations of responsibility. Instead, the mantle of leadership fell to Mason, but an election was on the horizon and there were rumors that Gideon was considering putting himself on the ballot. Abigail was the most likely source of those rumors, in my opinion. Does he know that his sister might’ve gotten him killed? Though Dr. Baker had yet to determine what afflicted Gideon, it was clear that he had been the target of an assassination attempt. Abigail thought so, or she wouldn’t have brought him to us.

Mason had recently drawn the elves into an alliance with the witches. If he saw Gideon as a threat to that alliance, Gideon’s survival might be of value to the pack.

“It’s been about two days,” Abigail answered as Dr. Baker continued his exam. “We were supposed to meet for lunch, but he didn’t show up. You are aware of my brother’s reputation.” Gideon never seemed to tire of booze and women. “It isn’t unusual for him to sleep in and miss our lunch if he had a very active evening the night before. But when the hard winds and rain started in our neighborhood, I knew something was wrong with him.”

Sebastian entered behind Dr. Baker as he asked, “Your doctors have no idea what’s wrong?”

“We’ve already lost four to similar symptoms,” she explained. Her voice cracked, but in a forced way. “They were only alive for five days once it started. No one seems to be able to help him. Some didn’t even try. I just couldn’t sit back and wait for him to die.” She wiped tears from her eyes, smearing her mascara.

At least her concern for her brother is genuine.

Sebastian walked up to the table to scrutinize Gideon’s limp form. “The four that died, were they potential candidates for leaders?”

Abigail appeared stunned by the question.

Does she think we’re stupid? We were often underestimated by the other supernatural factions, which gave us an advantage over them.

She sidled closer toward Winter, taking her hand. Abigail answered with a reserved tone, “Three of them would be ones I would consider potentials.”

“You don’t think this is a coincidence?” Winter asked Sebastian.

“Coincidences do not occur as often as people would like to believe,” he explained, “and almost never in situations like this.”

I didn’t envy Sebastian, to be thrown into such a critical choice without any forewarning. There were several political factors to consider. The ramifications of our intervention depended on an accurate assessment of who was responsible for the assassination attempt. We would be putting the pack at risk, but the potential rewards might be worthwhile should Gideon survive to become the next elven leader.

Sky’s desire was plain. Her chin was up and she was watching Sebastian with expectant eyes, almost willing him to protect Gideon. Once again she would make a rash decision without fully comprehending the stakes, but I begrudgingly acknowledged that for all she’d seen with us, she’d yet to become jaded. She still believed in a moral high ground. I could appreciate that, but she needed to also learn that someone who appeared helpless might in fact be a poisoned dagger waiting to strike.

After a long, pensive moment, Sebastian asked Winter, “You are aware that last month the witches and elves became allied?”

She nodded, expecting the worst but ready to accept his decision. Abigail’s mouth opened as she read the fatalism in her ex-lover’s expression. Sky appeared about to interject herself into the conversation when Sebastian turned to Dr. Baker.

“Examine him,” Sebastian directed. “Do what you can, but we cannot be involved for more than twenty-four hours. If he cannot be helped within that time, then please accept my condolences for the loss.” He turned to leave, but hadn’t made it out the door before his phone rang. He frowned as he glanced at the number, then answered the call. “Yes, Mason,” he said, allowing just a hint of annoyance in his voice.

“You should worry about yours, and let me deal with mine,” Mason said in his raspy Australian brogue. With our enhanced hearing, phone calls were rarely private. “Aren’t you tired of poking your nose where it never belongs? Send her away.”

Sebastian smirked. “Obviously, if she is here, you aren’t taking care of your own.”

“As usual, you have found your way into business that isn’t yours. I am asking this time. But if I were in your situation, I would consider the request thoroughly and do as I ask.”

I bristled at the elf’s insolent tone. Since Mason had formed his alliance with the witches, his arrogance had become brazen.

“Of course,” Sebastian said coolly, his broad lips spreading into a bright and dangerous smile. “I will give it as much consideration as I give you.” He disconnected the call, then turned to Dr. Baker. “Take as much time as you need. I want Gideon alive.”

Abigail visibly relaxed against Winter, who responded with a comforting kiss on the lips, then gently stroked Abigail’s cheek.

I followed Sebastian out of the room as he walked toward his office.

“What’s your assessment?” he asked.

My answer was immediate. “Abigail’s involved, somehow.”

“See what you can find out.”

I nodded and started up the stairs toward the library to brief Josh when I heard Gavin downstairs.

“I have better things to do than babysit Winter’s girlfriend’s brother,” he grumbled.

Sebastian answered, his tone casual, “If I cared, that would be a different story, now wouldn’t it? You’re here. If Mason decides to act on his threat, I need you, but most importantly, you’ll do it because I requested it.”

I heard the front door open and the click of a woman’s heels on the hardwood floor. Backing down a couple of steps, I saw Kelly in the entryway. Instead of her usual medical smock, she appeared dressed for a date. A cream wraparound dress clung to her curves, and her face was framed by a thick corkscrew halo. Dark mascara and liner shaded her walnut-colored eyes. Her lips and cheeks were highlighted by a deep coral color.

“Why are you here?” Gavin asked, suppressing his agitation.

She smiled, ignoring his harshness. “Dr. Jeremy called me.”

Leaving them, I walked up the stairs to find Josh where I’d left him, bent over several books, seemingly reading them all at once. As I joined him, he gave me a forlorn look while slumping in his chair.

“This is pointless,” he sighed.

“So take a break. Get your head straight and then come back and start over.”

He gestured broadly at the contents of the library. “There’s nothing here that’s going to shed light on the contents of the Clostra.”

“Ask London,” I said.

His gaze shifted away from mine as he scowled. “She’s not talking to me. I burned that bridge in our hunt for Ethos. We need Sky’s help.”

“No.”

“She can read the books,” he explained as if his argument was both undeniable and obvious.

“We’re not getting her any more involved than necessary. Without the third book, the spells are useless. When we have all the books, we can consider using her help, but only as a last resort. Until then, there’s no point.”

“We can’t cast the spells,” Josh agreed, “but we can figure out what they are. With Sky’s help, we can determine if there is a spell that lays the beast to rest.”

All we knew about the spell was rumor, that it had the potential to somehow kill the entire were-animal species. We needed to locate the spell, determine its actual purpose. Could it be cast by any witch, or did it require a witch of high skill?

Josh continued, “We can at least get an idea which other spells might present a danger to us. It’s also possible that somewhere in these books is a clue to the location of the third book.”

I scrutinized him for a long moment. After their shared recklessness regarding Ethos’s magic, I didn’t trust the two of them with another magical secret; I understood enough Latin that I’d be able to follow along with the translation, but I’d have to rely on my brother for a deeper understanding of the text. When it came to power, his track record for self-control was manifestly poor. With Sky involved, could he stop himself from drawing her into his experiments to test the spells once he had access to the third book?

Sky couldn’t be trusted when it came to Ethos’s magic, so I didn’t see why giving her access to the Clostra would be any wiser. Josh was right, though. There was too much at stake not to utilize every advantage we had.

“There are nearly two hundred pages in each book,” I said, “and she doesn’t speak Latin. You’re going to have to interpret her terrible pronunciation. This will take a long time.”

He shrugged, helpless.

While I considered the option, his gaze shifted to my hands. “Coffee?” he asked.

I’d left the pot brewing in the kitchen. “I was distracted.” I filled him in on Gideon’s presence in the clinic.

“What is your assessment?” I asked him.

He was about to answer me when something in the doorway caught him by surprise. His eyes brightened. A broad smile spread across his lips. I knew before I looked that Sky was standing there.

“Just the person I wanted to see,” he proclaimed. “I was about to come get you.” He pulled out a chair next to him and patted the seat for her. She obliged, acknowledging my scowl with a dismissive look while going out of her way to return Josh’s smile.

He slid both of the Clostra books in front of her, pressing them both open to the first page. “Please,” he gestured, “start reading.”

She blinked at him. “Read what?”

“All of it. We need to translate it.”

While she waited for the punch line to an imagined joke, he leaned down to the messenger bag beside his chair and retrieved a digital recorder and a tablet. Only when he was ready and gave her an expectant look did she seem to realize that he was serious. Glancing at the pages, she shook her head. She gave him another look, then began reading. As expected, her pronunciation was terrible, frequently leading Josh and I to instinctively lean over the pages to read for her. Each time we did, Sky would make a disgusted sound as the pages apparently went blank for her. She didn’t appreciate when Josh frequently stopped the recorder to clarify her pronunciation, either.

To make matters worse, the information from the missing third book proved consistently critical to understanding the spells, but that didn’t stop Sky from asking at the end of nearly every entry, “What does that spell do?”

After a few torturous hours, we were all on edge.

“Do you understand any of this?” she asked Josh, exasperated.

“It’s Latin; I understand most of it, but the rest we will figure out later.” He gestured for her to continue, which she did reluctantly.

After a while, my thoughts began to drift toward the visions of Dennis until I heard Sky utter “bestia” as she read through one of the spells.

Beast.

I leaned forward, stopping myself from hovering over the book. Josh was paying particular attention, as well.

Sky stopped reading as she stared at the page, her brow furrowed. “What is ripiso?”

Josh and I answered together, “Rest.”

“The beast will lay to rest,” she whispered, then continued reading.

I raised an eyebrow to Josh, who gave me a frustrated look and shrugged. Like most of the spells, there just wasn’t enough information to be sure what they did, but I saw him highlight the translation on his tablet.

Eventually, she read another phrase that caught our attention, Magia rescet.

Magic will wither.

Josh’s color melted to a ghostly white as he stopped the recorder. “Why don’t we take a break?” he said, putting on a cheerful smile for her. He rose to leave the library. When I rose to join him, he waved me off. Whatever the text meant to him, he needed to think about it.

The silence between Sky and me quickly grew awkward. Judging by her occasional cold glances, she remained angry. I couldn’t apologize for depriving her of Ethos’s magic; she’d made that decision for me when she’d chosen to keep the magic in the first place. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t explain how it was that I’d stopped her heart and nearly killed her; that knowledge was too dangerous for her.

We sat like teenagers, looking at our hands, our nails, our clothes, and every piece of furniture in the library in an effort to not look at each other. I was relieved when she placed her phone in front of her on the table and began browsing the Internet. I brought out my phone as well. For lack of a better idea, I slowly swiped through my settings. We remained like that for several minutes until Josh finally returned, balancing three cups of fresh coffee in his hands.

Our project had taken on a greater sense of urgency. I doubted we would stop before the texts were fully translated.

He gingerly set the three cups on the table, then slid one to each of us before taking his seat. Sky took a tentative sip, watching him closely as he turned on the recorder, picked up the notepad, then looked at her expectantly. After another sip, she set her coffee aside, cleared her throat, and continued reading from where she left off.

After two more tedious hours, her Latin wasn’t much better than when she’d started. Her already limited pronunciation began to slip, leading to more interruptions from Josh. She paused, rubbing the strain from her bloodshot eyes as she leaned back into her chair.

“Do you know who can do these spells?” she asked Josh.

“There seem to be numerous safeguards for the spells. Not only do you have to be able to get past the ward; you also have to be strong enough to perform them.” He looked down at his tablet. “These seem to be very strong spells. I wonder if even I could perform one.”

I scowled but remained silent. There were few witches more powerful than my brother, but none of them could be trusted with such power. A bridge for another time, I decided, sipping my coffee. I turned to Sky as her body sagged in her chair. Her expression was dull. This is exhausting for her, I reminded myself, suppressing my impatience.

“Shall we continue?” I asked softly.

She nodded begrudgingly as Josh turned on the recorder. The next hour was an exercise in diminishing returns as exhaustion caught up to each of us. After several cups of coffee, my head was ringing but I could barely keep my eyes open. It occurred to me that I could slip out of the library for a short rest, but I didn’t want to leave the two of them alone with the Clostra for long.

When Sky eventually asked for another break, I finished off my cup and excused myself to get a refill. Only a few minutes later, I returned to find the books on the table but Josh and Sky gone. I scowled and left my cup on the table as I went looking for them. Had he been waiting for a chance to get her alone? Was there something about the Clostra that he didn’t want me to hear?

Both of their rooms were empty. They weren’t in the main room, either. After checking the game room, then the porch, I felt a rising surge of anger. Only the gym was left, and there was only one reason for Josh to take her there; they were practicing magic. Descending the stairs to the basement, I could feel a sudden, powerful pulse of magic from the gym.

There was a thud, followed by Sky’s anxious exclamation, “Sorry!”

I stopped in the doorway to find them kneeling together next to the far wall, near the cardio machines. For a moment, I thought Josh was hurt, but he was simply collecting himself.

“Try another protective field,” he said.

She concentrated and a vaporous barrier formed close around her, but it lacked strength. Without Ethos’s magic, she was once again limited to whatever magic she could borrow. The pulse I’d felt from the stairs had used up most of what Josh had given her.

“Offensive magic requires a lot of power,” he said apologetically. “You will have to use it sparingly.”

Offensive magic? My arms folded over my chest. Teaching Sky offensive magic was only going to get her into more trouble. You just couldn’t help yourself.

Her shoulders slumped as grief came over her. She was feeling the loss of Ethos’s magic, I realized. He comforted her as she leaned forward and rested her head on his shoulder.

“I know,” he whispered.

Did she know it was Josh who’d shown me how to take the magic from her? “Playtime is over,” I snapped. “We need to go back to work.”

He glared at me as he released Sky. “Okay,” he said with the tone of a spoiled brat who had no intention of obeying.

“Now,” I insisted.

He sighed, exasperated, as he watched her rise and walk past me.

“Come on,” I said, nodding toward the stairs.

A mischievous grin came over him. At his slight gesture, an invisible force pushed me back against the wall, then dissipated. It wasn’t a strong spell. Josh was just letting me know he wasn’t to be trifled with. I had every intention of trifling with him when Sky inexplicably laughed. We stared at her, confused, before she stifled her laugh and went on her way up the stairs.

I scowled at Josh, letting him know this wasn’t over, then started after her. There was too much work to do to waste time on my brother’s insecurities. After a few minutes, he followed.

Another hour passed in the library, with little progress to show for it. I could tell by Josh’s growing impatience with me that he still didn’t have answers to his questions. He’d figured out just enough to scare him, and that pissed him off. When it came to magic, my brother didn’t accept failure. He rarely found someone or something that could defeat his curiosity, and the frustration was getting to him. The frustration was getting to me. The longer we spent together, the further back into our childhood our relationship seemed to regress.

Does he resent me now for taking Ethos’s magic from Sky?

Sebastian walked into the library. “Anything?”

Josh slouched back into his chair, his legs spread. He frowned as he gestured to his notepad. “This is a riddle within itself. There is absolutely no way to tell what the spell is for without the third book. Like this one: The first book reads, ‘I will that the undead walk among’—then it continues in the second book—‘The living will hear my request—’” He shoved the notepad toward the middle of the table. “And freaking what? Then do what, a dance? Bake me a cake? Sing me a ballad? What will they do?”

Sebastian stroked his chin thoughtfully as he walked to the table and opened one of the books, flipping through the blank pages. “Senna,” he said to Sky, “what’s her deal?”

Her tired expression became bitter. “With how meticulous and obscure this world is,” she answered, “I am surprised that someone else in my family would be so closely linked to an object of power.”

He paced slowly along the side of the table. After some consideration, he announced, “I don’t think she is true family.”

“We look just alike,” she said, surprised. “She’s a teenaged version of me.”

“She’s a dark-haired, olive-colored woman; other than that, there wasn’t anything that similar in your appearances. I don’t believe she is a Moura Encantada. There has to be a link between you and her as to why you two can read these things. I need to find the link.”

“Why, so you can find others?”

“Yes.” He smiled. “Do you see something wrong with that, Skylar?”

Sky defiantly puffed out her chest. “Yes. If they are as dangerous as you all say. I don’t think we should have these books at all, let alone try to find the other people who can read them.”

“I prefer to know those that are in a position to hurt this pack, and handle things as necessary. As far as the books are concerned, I would love to destroy them.”

Sebastian crossed to one of the small cabinets where Josh kept some of his magic supplies, and removed a lighter. Josh tensed as Sebastian returned to the table, bent the lighter to the edge of the blue book, and struck a flame against it. The book burst into orange, blue, and red flames that burned furiously, though the fire didn’t seem to consume the material. As the Clostra called on more magic to defend itself, the temperature in the room dropped dramatically. A frigid breeze licked at the flames, while ice rose up the leg of the table, spread across the surface to envelop the book, and snuffed out the flames. Once extinguished, the breeze died. The ice receded and disappeared, and the temperature quickly returned to normal.

Sky appeared horrified as Sebastian lifted the unblemished book to examine it. “As you see,” he said, unsurprised, “they can’t be destroyed. I want to know as much as I can about the Clostra. I prefer to go on facts and not rumors. Once you have translated them, they will be separated.”

He was on his way out of the library when we heard a crash downstairs, followed by Kelly’s scream, “Get it off of me!”

Sebastian rushed out of the room, with me directly behind him. We arrived at the clinic just behind Dr. Baker to find Kelly on the floor frantically clawing at her leg. Medical tools and a tray lay spilled beside her.

“Get it off of me!”

Dr. Baker knelt beside her, running his hands over her legs, then arms. Failing to find what frightened her, he ripped open her scrub pants and felt along her skin while Kelly continued to panic. He cursed and tore the pants higher.

There was an anxious tension in his voice as he asked, “What am I looking for?”

“It looks w-weird,” she stammered, “a bug, small legs … tan, no, brown.”

“I found it.”

I knelt and saw beneath his fingers the form of a camouflaged creature that revealed itself as it tried to match the color of Dr. Baker’s skin. Within a few seconds, it succeeded and became invisible once more, but he maintained his grip on it. Holding it in place, he retrieved a pair of tweezers from the spilled tray and used it to pry the creature from Kelly’s skin. Holding it carefully, he rose to the counter and found a jar of tongue suppressors. After dumping the contents, he dropped the creature inside and sealed the lid. It quickly adapted its camouflage, but imperfectly, leaving thin, light brown legs exposed.

Sebastian knelt beside Kelly. “Are you okay?”

She grasped at her legs that were splayed to one side. Biting her lower lip, she fought back tears as she slowly shook her head. “I can’t move my legs,” she said, trying to shift into her clinical voice. A thin stream of tears broke free, streaking down one cheek.

Sebastian carefully straightened her legs, but once he released them, they bent back into a splayed position. She gasped at the sight, her respiration quickly accelerating toward panic. He gently lifted her into his arms and laid her on one of the beds.

“What happened?” he asked.

“I found it on Gideon, at the nape of his neck,” she said, grimacing as she tried to move her legs. “It jumped on me when I tried to remove it. The next thing I knew it was biting and clawing its way up my leg. I couldn’t get it off me.” She closed her eyes and took a ragged breath. “And then I fell. I tried to stand, but my legs wouldn’t move.”

Sebastian stepped aside as Dr. Baker pushed a wheeled stool to the edge of the bed. He set a tray of tools next to her and proceeded to test her reactions as he touched her skin with heated and cooled instruments. As he progressed from her feet up her legs without a reaction, I saw deep concern creep through his normally calm bedside manner.

Only when he touched her abdomen with a chilled tool did she report any sensation. I felt a rush of relief until I saw his frown deepen. From a box of microfilaments, he touched one of the tools to her skin and again looked to her for a reaction.

She barely shook her head, the color draining from her visage.

Dr. Baker pushed up his glasses, then picked up the jar to examine the mysterious creature inside. After a long moment, he announced to no one in particular, “I’ve never seen anything like this.” Removing the lid, he tipped the jar onto a petri dish, then retrieved a camera from a cabinet drawer. After taking several pictures, he loaded the images into his computer and began searching his database for a match.

I knew by his deepening frown that he found nothing.

Gavin appeared next to me, examining the state of the room, then slipped past Sebastian to stand beside Kelly, gently resting a palm on her leg as he examined her. “What happened?” he asked, the usual edge in his voice absent. When she didn’t react to his touch, he moved his hand from her leg to her arm, gently stroking his thumb across her forearm.

He listened attentively as Dr. Baker explained.

“Are you in pain?” Gavin asked her.

Winter and Abigail slipped into the room as he adjusted the pillows, then the position of the bed until Kelly appeared at least somewhat more comfortable.

She shook her head.

He asked more questions, which she continued to answer with shakes and nods of her head. Was she conserving energy, I wondered, or too frightened to speak?

“We will fix this,” Sebastian promised her.

Gavin approached the petri dish, scrutinizing the creature within. After a moment, he picked up the dish and dumped the creature into his palm. I scowled. Dr. Baker objected, but Gavin ignored us both as he calmly watched the creature scramble up his arm. It stopped a few inches from his palm, then camouflaged itself against his skin. A few seconds later, I barely saw the shimmer of the creature as it crawled back down to his palm, where it remained.

He raised it to the level of his eyes to examine it more closely. “It’s a sleeper,” he proclaimed.

“I’ve never seen one before,” Dr. Baker said, awed. “I assumed it was a myth. Weren’t they supposed to have been destroyed?” He rubbed his temples as he thought. “The elves created this creature….”

The elves can provide the cure.

Gavin explained as he gently returned the creature to the petri dish, “They created it as an undetectable elimination tool. It releases venom that paralyzes the body, eventually infecting the organs, rendering them ineffectual. Once you’re dead, it slithers away, taking along all evidence, leaving the cause of the person’s death inconclusive and the murderer blameless.” His body stiffened. The muscles in his neck tightened like cords, and his fists clenched. His anger filled the room as his panther rose to the surface. “Why is an elven creature that should have been destroyed in our house, Abigail?” He turned to her, glaring.

“You all created this thing that causes death,” Sebastian said, deliberately controlling his temper, “but don’t have a problem killing your own people who happen to be capable of the same thing?”

He meant the dark elves. The Makellos, the elven elite and purists, had led the charge to commit genocide on their powerful, dark brethren, and here they were using the very same magic on their own kind.

Kelly had gone from pale to a shade of green. “If it released venom,” her voice tightened, “even if you can make or find an antivenin, whatever damage is done will be permanent.”

“That’s for snakes,” Winter lied, but Kelly knew too much to be fooled.

Sebastian turned to Abigail. “When is your election?”

Her attention drifted back toward her brother. “In four months.”

“And they will select the candidates in probably a month. What happened to your brother wasn’t a coincidence, nor was what happened to the other potentials.”

Abigail’s skin blanched as she began to fidget and pace the small area next to Gideon’s bed. “As I said before, my brother has no interest in leading,” she said unconvincingly. “That was my father’s dream for him, not his.”

“Eventually he will mature and will accept his responsibilities,” Sebastian stated, scrutinizing her. “Maybe not now, but sometime in the future, he will want that position, and due to your father’s legacy, it will be his without opposition. This”—he gestured to Gideon’s paralyzed figure on the table—“is not a coincidence.”

Abigail seemed aghast, so struck with horror that she leaned against the bed for support. “Someone tried to kill my brother,” she gasped.

“Is there an antidote?” asked Dr. Baker, his expression hopeful.

“Not that I know of,” she answered, distracted, “but we need to find one.”

He turned to Sebastian. “We should call Mason to see if he knows anything that can help.”

Fat chance.

Sebastian agreed with me. “He will not offer us assistance.”

“Call him anyway,” Dr. Baker pleaded.

Before Sebastian could respond, a low moan drew our attention to Gideon. Every one of us stared, disbelieving, until we saw his foot jerk. His legs shifted before he eased himself up, slowly turning to sit on the edge of the bed, groggy as if waking from a deep sleep. He ran his hands over his face as he looked up to take in his surroundings. Realizing he was trapped in a room with several angry were-animals, his body tightened. I doubted he had the strength to flee, but I was prepared to stop him. He calmed at the sight of his sister as she moved to his side and took his hands in hers. He offered her a weak smile.

His gaze fixed on Sebastian as he spoke softly to her in their language. She responded in kind, and at some length, while Gideon occasionally nodded. My suspicion was immediately aroused. It wasn’t polite for guests to conspire in front of their hosts. I turned to Josh, who only shook his head. He couldn’t translate their conversation.

“She’s bringing him up to speed,” Gavin whispered, surprising me. Sebastian was surprised, as well. “She left out the part about someone trying to assassinate him,” he added.

When Abigail finished speaking, the two remained locked in silent communication.

“Abigail is afraid of us,” Gavin whispered.

She should be. My hostile gaze shifted toward Winter, who wore an uncharacteristic look of guilt. She’d broken protocol to bring them to the retreat. It wasn’t our responsibility to treat every supernatural that took ill. We kept to ourselves, and for good reason. Now Kelly was paralyzed from the waist down, and we were quickly becoming embroiled in an elven affair we didn’t fully understand.

They shouldn’t be here.

“May I use your bathroom?” Gideon asked, meeting my gaze for the first time.

Dr. Baker was the only one who moved, helping Gideon off the table and guiding him to the bathroom at the back of the hospital.

The moment her brother was out of the room, Abigail turned to Sebastian. “He can’t find out that someone tried to kill him,” she said, half pleading, half insistent.

I frowned, skeptical. “You think it is wise to keep such information from him? He can’t protect himself from an enemy that he doesn’t know exists.”

I ignored the irritable, perplexed look that Sky gave me.

“At this time it would be best. He will respond irrationally.” Abigail sighed. “Right now is not the time.”

“I don’t care what goes on with the elves and what truths you hold from him,” Sebastian snapped. “You keep whatever secrets you like. We need to find a way to fix Kelly.”

When Dr. Baker returned with Gideon, Kelly asked, “If he’s awake, then I should get better, too, right?”

The brightness in her eyes dimmed as he hesitated to answer. Finally, he frowned as he gave her a half-shrug. He didn’t know the answer, and apparently he didn’t want to lie to her. Seeing the collapse of her hope, I wasn’t sure he made the right choice, but that was between them.

He promised her, “If you don’t, we will find a way. You will not stay like this.”

One hour and we’ll know.

From the time the creature was removed from Gideon’s body to the time he emerged from his coma, one hour had passed. No one wanted to say it out loud, to get her hopes up, but we were all waiting.