Karin ground her teeth. The news about Ketha had rattled her. She’d never heard of such a thing happening before, where the human half of the Shifter bond was locked within the animal.

“It was the only way to save her,” Karin’s wolf said, clearly front and center in her mind.

“I already figured that out.” Karin’s response was testier than she’d intended it to be, so she added, “Sorry. Not much I can do about that problem until Ketha’s wolf shows up. What are your thoughts about Ceridwen and the Witches?”

“Whales and dolphins beware.”

“Could you say more?” Karin chewed her lower lip, grateful no one was trying to talk with her. They’d be on the beach very soon. The goddess and her sidekicks were clearly waiting for them. So were the sea Shifters. Leif’s silence was disturbing, but she might be reading too much into it.

“Because of their last bargain with Witches, the sea folk will be vulnerable.”

Karin had suspected as much. Traces of the pathways linking the sea Shifters to Witch coercion remained. If they looked, this group of Witches would sense the weakness and exploit it. Witches were like that. They never missed a trick, not if they could turn it to their advantage.

The raft’s bottom scraped against sand. Juan took his time exiting the craft, anchor rope in hand, and yet more time locating a place to secure the Zodiac. He was stalling, waiting for Viktor’s Zodiac to appear. No one else said much of anything. Ceridwen stood about fifty feet away and presumably would be privy to words flowing among them.

“Need help?” Leif ran lightly toward them, his bare feet leaving footprints in the wet sand.

“We’re good,” Juan said. “Waiting for Vik.”

The dolphin Shifter’s eyes widened as he took in the weapons scattered across the bottom of the raft.

Karin wanted to at least warn him to be careful, but he probably already knew.

Ceridwen closed from behind him. “Guns?” She snorted. “What an archaic concept. Are ye planning a wild pig hunt?”

“Now there’s an idea.” Juan smiled disarmingly and extended a hand. “Fresh meat would be welcome. I’m Juan Torres.”

Ceridwen scanned the raft’s occupants while ignoring Juan’s outstretched hand. “Fascinating. Three of ye were Vampires, and for a considerable span of time, it appears.”

The sound of the second Zodiac’s motor grew louder. Karin spoke over it. “A fourth is in the approaching boat.” She clambered over the pontoon and slogged through surf and onto the beach. “They came through when we needed them.”

“Vampires?” The goddess curled her lip in disdain. “Whatever would ye require them for?” A cunning gleam lit her image-laden eyes. “Och, I understand. They’re exceptional bedwarmers. Indefatigable, as I recall, and the addition of blood ritual adds spice—”

“If you and I are going to get along”—Karin took a chance and spoke over the goddess—“I’m requesting you quit right there. The Cataclysm was formed by a Shifter spell gone bad, but Vamps were part of it too, which explains why we required their particular brand of magic.”

“What kind of Shifter spell?” the blonde Witch asked from a few feet away.

“They never did command enough magic to be more than be a nuisance,” the dark-haired Witch muttered.

Karin ignored the insult. “A small, secret group of Shifters decided to do away with Vampirism once and for all, but they needed something to entice their prey. They lied and told Vamps they’d teach them how to change form. Had the spell run to its conclusion, it would have wiped Vampirism off the map. Some would have reverted to human; those found worthy of the bond would have turned into Shifters.”

“Fascinating.” Ceridwen leaned forward. “First time I’ve heard details. What happened?”

“A Vamp caught wind of the deception and bedded a Shifter. It derailed the spell and broke the world.”

Ceridwen fisted a hand and punched the air in front of her. “I knew it had to be something like that. It held the stink of loose magic gone awry.”

“Sure and we looked for a way out.” Zoe moved until she stood next to Karin. “Our seer, the one in the animals’ borderworld, finally broke through. ’Tis when we finally learned the truth about what had occurred. When she told us we’d have to join forces with Vampires to fight the perverted enchantment, we all rebelled, but in the end, we agreed. ’Twas that or die from bad air and water.”

“Ye do realize ye altered evil’s grip on Earth, but ye dinna come close to doing away with it?” The goddess raised one dark brow.

“Aye, that point has become abundantly clear.” Zoe tossed her head.

Aura joined them. “We’re here at your behest,” she told Ceridwen, pointedly ignoring the Witches. “What did you have in mind when you issued the invitation?”

Karin cringed. She wouldn’t have been quite so direct, but it might be best to get to the crux of the goddess’s motives, at least the surface lies meant to disarm their concerns. Behind her, the second raft’s hull scraped as it ran aground. The muted hum of voices meant weapons were changing hands.

Viktor’s unmistakable energy approached quickly. He planted himself between Karin and the goddess. “Can you get my wife back?”

Karin edged sideways to keep an eye on Ceridwen—and the Witches.

“Ye’re not one to waste time, raven Shifter.” The goddess raked him from head to toe with her gaze, and probably with her magic as well.

“Can you?” Viktor asked again. “Because if you can’t, there’s no point in us being here.”

Power flared from the goddess, creating a glowing nimbus around her. “I struck a bargain—sealed with blood. Ye have no choice but to remain.”

“I’m not who you bargained with.” Viktor’s expression hardened. “Part of that agreement was you’d attempt to—”

“Attempt, not guarantee,” she cut in, her voice harsh and grating. “What era did ye spring from to show so little veneration for those like me?”

“One that didn’t believe in magic.” He skinned his lips back from his teeth.

“Ye were a Vampire. How could ye not be steeped in the dark arts?”

“Easy. I was human first. Never warmed to the transformation.”

Leif squared his shoulders and faced the goddess and Witches. “What of my whale?”

“It’s swimming.” Ceridwen shrugged. “Ye’ll see it again someday.”

“Not good enough,” Leif countered. “We need him with us when we attack the gateway. In truth”—he took a step closer—“we could use your help as well. When did you decide to check out? To abandon the world you once cared for?”

“Enough.” The blonde Witch snapped her fingers beneath Leif’s nose. Magic sparked, but it bounced off the dolphin Shifter.

He sneered. “You’ll have to do better than that if you expect to immobilize me.”

Surprise flickered from the Witch, but she snuffed it out fast.

Ceridwen shot a pointed glance her way, and the Witch shuffled backward. “Take this as a sign of my goodwill,” she purred, and power surged around her, crackling with strength. The air filled with the scents of herbs and young animals.

Daide dropped his hands onto Karin’s shoulders from behind, enveloping her in determination. “What’s Ceridwen up to?” He spoke low into her ear.

His nearness warmed her; so did his concern. “Not sure.” Cautiously, she opened a magical channel between them. Better to have it and not need it than the other way around.

Colors flashed and flared around Ceridwen. While the goddess spun her casting, Karin extended her magic until all the Shifters were loosely linked. One of the Witches figured out what she was up to. Her shrewd dark eyes traveled from Ceridwen to the Shifters and back again as if she were gauging the impact of disturbing the goddess.

Karin could imagine the gist of her thoughts. If she bothered Ceridwen mid-spell, the goddess would be furious. If she kept her mouth shut and the Shifters’ amalgamated magic spawned chaos, it would be her fault.

Karin locked gazes with her. “We mean no harm.”

“Like you’d tell me if you did?” the Witch retorted.

Karin scented the air and the magical vortex swirling around the goddess. If she was any judge, whatever Ceridwen was up to would manifest soon. No one, not even a god, could maintain that output of magic for very long. She debated asking the Witch who else was on this island, but it might be a long reply—or none at all. Worse, more than short bursts of telepathy might divert Ceridwen’s single-minded concentration. If a spell that powerful boomeranged, it could blow up the island.

Magic pressed in from all sides, and Karin’s muscles tensed. Something was approaching. Had Ceridwen summoned another god or perhaps a demon? She’d said what she was creating was a sign of her goodwill. Had she been lying? Could she even lie outright? Karin didn’t believe so. The gods could hedge and lie by omission and inference, but—

Wind whistled out of nowhere, echoing as the vortex pulsed. Motion caught her attention as Viktor shouldered the Remington. His green eyes held a wild, unfocused edge. “Viktor!” She aimed her mind voice directly at him. “Not yet.”

A raven cawed ferociously in her mind, and she took it as an affirmation he wouldn’t shoot the goddess. At least not yet. Silver-and-iron-laced bullets might harm her, but Karin had a feeling they’d only piss her off.

Her mouth flooded with blood from where she’d bitten through her lip. Magic pummeled her from all sides, the air so crammed with it, every breath got its hooks into her. If this kept up much longer, she’d pass into the netherworld where magic ruled. She’d been there before, but she’d controlled the spell. Who knew what an involuntary jaunt might mean?

Her wolf howled and howled again. The sound ripped through her. Daide held on, digging his fingers into her upper arms. The pressure had a stabilizing effect, and she started weaving their combined power into a ward. Karin had moved beyond giving a rat’s ass if it offended the goddess.

Ceridwen swayed with the cadence of her spell. She was chanting now, and the cavalcade of imagery across her milky corneas spun so fast it was nothing but a blur.

Her bondmate’s howls gave way to one word. “Ketha.”

Karin sent magic spilling outward, seeking her friend. She whooped and jerked from Daide’s grip just as a black-and-gray timber wolf sprang from the jaws of the vortex, landing on the wet sand.

Viktor dropped the rifle and fell to his knees. The wolf bounded into his arms, licking his face for all it was worth. He murmured in German, smoothing Ketha’s fur, and she whined softly, nuzzling his neck.

The oppressive noise, electric buzzing, and mélange of scents ceased abruptly. Ceridwen shook her hair back over her shoulders. “Enough for one day. Now that you’re convinced of my intentions, follow me.”

The Witches flanked her. Power buzzed as they communicated telepathically, no doubt telling the goddess everything, including how Viktor had her in his rifle’s sights.

Karin hurried to where Viktor cradled the wolf in his arms and placed a hand on the animal’s head. If this problem had a cure, she’d find it, no matter how difficult or how long it took.”

“I agreed to this,” Ketha’s voice eddied in her mind. “It was the only way. We didn’t have time to come up with anything else.”

“Offer my thanks to your bondmate for keeping you safe,” Karin said formally. Something like a cattle prod sent an electric shock up her spine. She shot upright to find Ceridwen staring at her.

“Ye can visit with your returned companion once we reach our destination.”

Karin bowed low. “Thank you, goddess, for the return of our seer.”

Ceridwen grunted. “At least one of ye has manners.” Turning on her heel, she set a quick pace angling away from the soggy beach.

“I suppose we have to follow her,” Aura muttered.

“Her and those crappy Witches,” Zoe said.

Viktor rolled to his feet and nodded at Boris, who’d come close enough to snap up the Remington. Ketha walked by Viktor’s side, her tail pluming. Karin knew how she felt. Escaping the animals’ borderworld had been the first step. Ketha wouldn’t rest until she’d figured out how to separate from her bondmate, and Karin vowed to stand by her every step of the way.

Before they could do anything, though, they had to placate Ceridwen and get off this island.

As if he’d been inside her head, Daide said, “We’ll figure this out. At least we have Ketha back. Any idea what we’re walking into?”

“None. Ceridwen’s had a lot of years to carve out a comfortable niche, though. And this is her turf.”

Karin took a quick minute to turn around. No one remained with either raft. Four humans from Arkady ranged up and down the beach. Boris, Ted, and two of the McMurdo scientists. They had the iron saber and the Remington. From time to time, they bent and picked up something, probably varieties of shellfish.

If she’d been correct about sensing humans on this island, they weren’t in any rush to show themselves.

Recco gripped the Ruger guide gun; no one had told him to leave it behind. It was as prepared as they were likely to be. Leif joined them, walking shoulder to shoulder with Daide. “Other Witches are here.” He said it as if he was talking about house cats or the weather.

“How many?” Daide asked.

Leif shrugged. “I haven’t wanted to deploy too much power. When Ceridwen was deep into her spell, I used it as a smokescreen and dug a little.”

“Find anything else?” Karin chewed her sore lower lip.

“Odd energies.”

“Odd, how?” Karin pressed. Who knew how long a walk it was until the trap snapped shut?

“I checked twice. Felt like the faerie folk to me, along with some Fae.”

“’Twould make sense,” Zoe said from behind them. “When Ceridwen was at the height of her power, both ranged far and wide in Wales.”

“Whose side are they on?” Daide cut to the chase.

“Their own,” Karin replied tersely.

“Aye. If they came with Ceridwen, ’twas to further their agenda, not hers,” Zoe agreed.

A mist rose around them, silver and frothy. Scents accompanied it, sharp and piquant. Karin was trying to identify them when Zoe said, “Och, ’tis a recreation of the Highlands. Heather and gorse and fog so thick you can taste the sea.”

Karin gave the swirling silver vapor an experimental shove. It pushed back, but she’d expected as much. “We’ve entered a one-way channel,” she said, not caring if Ceridwen overheard her. “Don’t fight it, or goddess only knows what will happen.”

“We’ll see about that.” Daide’s words were fierce, but when he made a staunch effort to turn around, the mist formed an impenetrable shield holding him facing forward. Coyote outrage burst from him in a long, pealing series of high-pitched yips.

“It’s illusion,” Aura growled. She halted and stared into the gray fog eddying above them.

“Nay!” Zoe caught her arm. “Sure and I’ve never seen aught like this afore, but I’ve read the legends. Leif mentioned Fae. This has the feel of their workings. They could help us—unless we alienate them by ripping through their enchantment with magic of our own.”

Aura exhaled noisily and plodded forward. “Damned if we do, eh?” she muttered.

“Aye, and damned if we don’t.” Zoe patted her shoulder. “Wonder what Ceridwen promised to get them to build this pathway for her?”

“It won’t be long before we come to the end of it,” Karin said. “Maybe then we’ll know more. An illusion like this is a real power hog.”

“Is it possible it’s here to confuse us?” Daide asked. “Make us think we can’t find our way back to the beach?”

Karin wished it were so simple. Should she give voice to what she was nearly sure was happening?

One of the whales spoke up, saving her the trouble of deciding. “By Poseidon’s balls, this isn’t just a path, it’s a gateway.”

“Huh?” Viktor asked. “To where?”

Next to him, Ketha howled mournfully. Being reduced to telepathy for speech must be damn near killing her.

“A borderworld,” Karin said dully. “Somehow, and I have no idea precisely how Ceridwen finessed it, she persuaded the Fae to create a channel between Malaita Island and one of the other worlds. She’s used this path so often, it opens—and closes—at her bidding, without much magical fanfare.”

“If it didn’t, we would have hesitated before following her,” Aura cut in. “Had second thoughts and like as not fought back if she exerted force.”

“No shit.” Karin spat the words, knowing full well if the goddess had cast obvious magic to conjure a magical, glowing, fog-shrouded portal, none of them would have set foot in it. Not willingly, anyway.

“If we’re entering another dimension, how will we return?” Recco asked.

“Good question, amigo, but this isn’t Star Wars. Should we be paying attention so we can recreate whatever this is?” Daide spread his arms wide. When he lowered them, he draped one across Karin’s shoulders.

He felt good. Solid. She was tempted to lean her head against his shoulder and go with the flow, but it was what the goddess wanted. “Watch it.” Karin raised her voice to make certain everyone would hear. “Compulsion is woven in with this working. So’s something to make us not care.”

Deep within, her wolf snarled, a harsh, bitten-off growl that chilled Karin, iced her to her soul. “What is it?”

“No matter how hard I argue, you must not shift.”

“Why?” Karin had been considering shifting as an option to get them out of this mess.

After another strangled-sounding whuff, the wolf managed, “Ketha. Example. She knows.” A pain-filled shriek followed the words, as if her bondmate had walked over hot knives.

Panic twisted Karin’s guts into a knot. In two centuries, she’d never known her bondmate to fight for words. “Ketha.” Karin didn’t bother with telepathy. The wolf would hear her either way. A brisk woof confirmed her assumption, and she asked. “What kind of example are you? Why would my wolf warn me against shifting?”

A series of woofs rose from the wolf as if it approved of her questions.

“Christ!” Ketha replied, sounding disgusted. “If you hadn’t asked, I’d never have thought to say anything. Ceridwen dissected the mechanism holding me within my bondmate’s form. It’s why she took so long returning me. I wondered what she was about when she shot power through my wolf over and over, but that must be it.”

“Excellent news,” Viktor broke in. “Means she can undo it.”

“Och, and ’twould be a two-way street,” burst from Zoe.

Understanding swept through Karin in a hot, bitter tide, and she sent warm thanks inward to her bondmate for the effort it had expended alerting her. “Listen up, everyone.” The mist wouldn’t allow her to turn around, so she spoke as loud as she could. “You must not shift, no matter what happens.”

“Why not?” a whale yelled from a long way behind her.

“The goddess knows how to lock you into your animal form. Once you’re no longer human, her blood bond with Leif is nullified.”

“Nullified won’t matter if we’re forced into being whales on dry land,” the whale Shifter retorted. “Our weight will crush our lungs.”

Karin moved forward, the only direction available, until she was next to Ketha’s wolf. “Are you all right? My bondmate paid a price for warning me.”

Ketha’s laughter, grim and bitter, flickered through Karin’s mind. “Yeah, my wolf is fine, but only because I’m standing between it and the goddess. Her power is impressive, but not bottomless.”

The mist thinned, and the smells of the Highlands intensified. “Wherever we’re going, we’re almost there,” Karin yelled.

“Be vigilant,” Leif cut in. “She’ll engage every trick she can to get you to trust her, but if you fall for any of them, she’ll be able to use you to bind all of us here.”

“If it’s a borderworld, aren’t we stuck until she releases us?” Juan broke a long silence.

“Not necessarily,” Aura said. “We could—”

“Quiet!” Karin ordered before Aura launched into an explanation. She had no idea what was in the mountain cat Shifter’s mind, neither did she want to offer the goddess any advantage.

“Thanks,” Aura mumbled. “Complacency is woven in with all her other spells. Loosens the tongue—and my wits.”

Speaking of wits, Karin made a grab for hers. So long as one of them was alert, maybe they could avert disaster and find a way back to Arkady.