“Ready,” Connor said quietly, and I nodded.
The howl was unearthly, sending an electric chill down my spine. This wasn’t a beast on the hunt, or even the fury of a clan member who wanted revenge. It was the scream of a wounded animal—and a trapped human.
The beast began to claw at its chest, its arms, still howling, spittle falling from its lips.
“What the . . . ?” Connor asked, and started to move forward, but I held him back with my hand, not wanting him to get too close to the magic.
“Wait,” I said.
Light flashed—not the bright glow of a shifter switching forms, but a sharp and fractured bolt that put the scent of something chemical in the air. With each flash came a concussion of magic, as the boy’s body was racked, pulled, fur displacing skin until there was a final burst of light, and he fell to the ground in front of us, pale and naked and skeletally thin.
“Help me,” he managed, and curled into a fetal position.
“Jesus,” Connor said, and we ran forward.
I caught movement in the spellseller’s window, watched her watch us and make not a single move to help. “Asshole,” I muttered, and caught Connor’s surprised glance.
“What?”
I gestured toward the window, watched his expression go dark. He muttered a curse that was much less mild than mine.
“What’s your name?” he asked, turning back to the boy as Theo made his way toward us.
“Beyo . . .” was all he managed before he passed out.
Connor stood up as a siren began to wail in the distance. “We need to get him out of here. I’m going to move the vehicle around. I’ll be right back.”
“I don’t think we’re going anywhere,” Theo said.
The SUV squealed to a stop in front of us barely a minute later. Connor climbed out, leaving the door open and the motor running, and came around while Theo opened the back door.
“I’ve got him,” Connor said, lifting the young man into his arms as if he were nothing, then placed him in the backseat, closed the door. “I’m going to take him back to the resort,” he said. “I’ll have Georgia keep an eye on him.”
“We’ll talk to the spellseller,” I said. “Maybe witnessing this will have jogged her memory a little.”
Connor nodded, looked at Theo. “Don’t be afraid to show your badge. I’ll come back when he’s settled.”
“Be careful,” I said, and pressed a kiss to his lips.
“Same goes for you, brat.”
He drove off, and we turned back to the woman who stood in her front window, still wringing her hands.
A pretty good metaphor, I thought ruefully. “Let’s go ruin her night.”
Paloma blanched when she saw us coming, then tried to play casual by flipping the “Open” sign to “Closed.”
“Wow,” Theo said. “I don’t know if we should go in now that she’s turned that sign around.”
“Yeah,” I said, pushing open the door. “It’s a real obstacle.”
There was a handful of humans in the store, most near the windows and on screens, reporting what they’d seen—or trying to figure out exactly what it had been.
“I’ll keep an eye on her,” I said. “Can you take care of them?”
“My pleasure.” Theo pulled his badge, raised it. He didn’t have any jurisdiction here, but it wasn’t like anyone was going to read the fine print. “Sorry for the interruption,” he said, “but we need everyone to vacate the premises, please. If you could just all step outside and be on your way.”
Helpfully, he held open the door, waited for them to file out, and closed it again. Then he flipped the lock, turned back to us.
“What are you doing?” Paloma asked, skittering behind the counter as we walked toward her.
“We’re here to get the truth,” I said, idly picking up a geode, examining the crystals inside, then setting it down again. “Because we’re very sick of being lied to.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Paloma said, but her hands were shaking. When she realized we’d noticed, she crossed her arms, hiding her hands.
“I didn’t introduce myself,” Theo said, taking out his badge. “I’m with the Ombudsman’s office. Do you know who they are?”
“Yeah, I know. You don’t have any jurisdiction here.”
“No,” he agreed, “I don’t. But what I do have is information. You also have information, Paloma. And you’re going to give it to us.”
“I don’t know anything.”
“Oh, but you do. Because you’re the only one who could.” Theo looked at me. “Did you know I spoke with the Order earlier today?”
“You don’t say,” I offered, feigning surprise. “And how are things in Milwaukee?”
“Efficient. They keep really good records, and our Paloma here is the only sorceress—registered or otherwise—in the area.” He turned to Paloma again. “This begins and ends with you, Paloma. Would you like to be honest now, or should we just call the Order and let them deal with you?”
She turned her gaze to the window and looked absolutely miserable. “I didn’t know they’d turn into . . . that,” she said, then looked back at me. “That’s the absolute truth.”
“You’ll pardon me if I don’t believe you,” I said dryly. “Especially since, despite your powers, you stood there and watched. You didn’t even try to help.”
“There was nothing I could do.”
Theo looked at me, brows knit in false puzzlement. “Nothing she could do, Elisa. Doesn’t that seem strange?”
“It really does,” I agreed, enjoying the banter more than I probably should have, given what was at stake.
“You don’t have to believe me,” she said. “Maybe I wouldn’t believe me if I was you. But again, it’s the truth.”
“We’ll believe you if you tell us the truth,” I said.
Paloma rubbed her forehead. “Can we—can we go sit down? I’m getting one hell of a headache. It’s the magic. It gives me migraines.”
She rustled through a bead-covered doorway along the back wall.
We followed her down a hallway that led to a restroom and a small office. The office held a desk and two visitors’ chairs. It was organized but full of boxes, paperwork, and collectibles. A paper lantern hung from the ceiling, and a poster demonstrating yoga poses was stuck to the brick wall. And the room was thick with old magic, pungent layers that seemed to permeate the air and the furniture and left the air feeling oily.