Ethan had emerged from the bathroom-clad only in perfectly fitting jeans and scrubbing a towel through his hair-when the carriage house's front door opened and closed.

My gaze on Ethan's chest, it took me a moment to recognize the sound and turn my head toward the shuffling in the other room.

"I'll just check that out," I said, moving toward it while Ethan searched for a T-shirt.

Gabriel stood in the living room in front of the coffee table, arms crossed, watching as Berna and several shifters, her apparent helpers, carried in aluminum trays of food. My stomach, empty and roiling, rejoiced.

"I have brought dinner," Berna p.r.o.nounced, eyeing me nastily, as if there was a chance I'd decline free food. My patience for shifters was growing shorter by the moment.

"Honestly, Berna, when have you ever known me not to eat?"

She didn't seem entirely satisfied with the answer, but I was saved by distraction.

Ethan walked into the room, hair still damp but fully dressed. Berna's eyes lit with feminine appreciation.

"Berna brought us dinner," I said.

"That was very thoughtful of you, Berna," Ethan said.

"Is for health," she said, squeezing her knotted fingers around Ethan's biceps. "For muscles and teeth. Good, strong muscle. Strong. Good."

"I think they've got it." Gabriel smirked.

She humphed and herded her crew back to the door, but not before snapping a towel in his direction.

"I'll meet you outside," Gabriel said, closing the door when he was the only shifter left in the room.

"Chow time for the prisoners?" Ethan asked. His voice was low, threatening, and very, very alpha.

Gabriel grunted and headed for the kitchen. While Ethan, Mallory, Catcher, and I exchanged glances, the refrigerator door opened and closed again, and the clink of gla.s.s sounded.

He walked back in with a bottle of beer in hand and looked, I realized for the first time, utterly exhausted. He'd probably been playing Apex all evening, and for the festival he'd planned for. Here, finally, he was with people who weren't his subjects. For a brief moment-a rare moment-he shook off the mantle of power and sprawled onto the couch.

"The Pack is p.i.s.sed," he said, taking a drink of the beer. "No," he amended, gesturing with the bottle. "They're scared. And that's infinitely worse."

Ethan considered the admission for a moment, then took a seat on the couch across from Gabe. If you hadn't known they were Apex and Master, you might have thought them athletes relaxing after a game. Or A-list actors between scenes on a movie set. There was just something about the supernatural that brought out the best in male genetics.

Taking cues from the alphas, Mallory and I took seats as well, and Catcher followed. I sat beside Ethan, comforted by the closeness of his body and the smell of his cologne, the familiar things that brought comfort in unusual times.

That, I thought, was one of the best parts of being in a relationship. No matter how foreign the world, the landmarks, the customs, I'd never be a stranger beside Ethan. Love bred the best kind of familiarity.

If, down the road, Ethan was leaving dirty socks on the floor, I might not find the familiarity so charming. But for now, it soothed with a depth that surprised me.

"We are not their enemy," Ethan said.

"No," Gabe said, taking another drink, the bottle slung between two fingers. "But trouble arrived shortly after you did. That coincidence isn't going unnoticed." He looked up, smiled wolfishly. "It would go a long way toward mending fences if you could figure out what happened."

"You haven't given us much choice," Ethan said. "You've made it sound like we're guilty if we don't figure it out."

"Added incentive," Gabriel said with a smile.

I didn't smile back. I, for one, was sick of being manipulated by shape-shifters. In addition to being slammed in the face. At the moment, those two things were at the top of my s.h.i.t list.

Gabe sat forward. "Look. You're not cops, and you're certainly not on the Pack payroll. It's not your job to solve our problems. I get that. But you know how to do this." He glanced at me. "You and your team have a way of figuring these things out. You're better at it than I am, even if I had the time. But I've got colleagues to mourn, a Pack to watch over." He paused. "I need the help, Sullivan. And I'm asking for it."

Ethan watched him silently, jaw clenched. He didn't like being manipulated. But he was a vampire and a Master at that, and honor was everything to him.

"All right," Ethan said, resignation in his voice. "But we'll need information, starting with your theory about who orchestrated this attack."

"I don't know of anyone with the skills to build a h.o.a.rd of harpies," Gabriel said.

"Magic can be bought," Catcher said. "But animosity like we saw tonight grows naturally."

"Our enemy list hasn't grown any deeper recently," Gabriel said. "Yes, there are people who don't like the family, don't like the Pack, don't like shifters. But there haven't been any catalysts-nothing that would have set off a night like this."

"What about Aline?" I asked. "You said she b.u.t.ted heads with your father. What's the story there?"

Gabe nodded, glanced at me. "She had relatives-cousins-in the Atlantic Pack. They got into trouble-got drunk, roughed up a clerk at a bodega, and stole some money. Afterward, they wanted shelter and turned to us. Aline was in favor of it, said the kids were set up. But my father didn't buy it and wouldn't allow it. He didn't want to shelter troublemakers. He told Aline about his decision, and they had a very public disagreement. She backed down, but she didn't forgive him."

"And the cousins?" Ethan asked.

"Killed," Gabe said. "The robbery wasn't the first time they got into trouble, and it wasn't the last. They tried grift, a short con, and got caught. The vic wasn't amused, and made an example of them."

I grimaced. "That couldn't have engendered any better feelings in Aline."

"It didn't," Gabriel said. "When my father died, she rallied for another alpha to take over the Pack." He smiled, with teeth. "That particular whelp was not successful."

"And now Aline is missing," Catcher said.

"Or she left," I said. "It sounds like her anger's been simmering for a long time."

Gabriel nodded. "I think that's accurate. But I wouldn't say there's been anything recently. And I don't know of any connections she'd have to magic like this."

"What about Rowan?" Mallory asked.

"He's a good man," Gabe said, with obvious regret. "Employed by the Brecks, works on the property. Keeps to himself, is a hard worker. I don't know of any reason he'd organize something this violent." He rubbed his jaw contemplatively. "All that said, they're still missing. If they don't return by sunset-or we don't find evidence they were victims-I'll have to question them myself."

There seemed little doubt the Apex of the North American Central Pack would find the answers.

"What will you do about the rest of Lupercalia?" Mallory asked.

"That's a rock and a hard place," Gabe admitted. "We cancel, we show weakness. We continue, we put shifters at risk of round two of whatever this is." He looked at Ethan. "I imagine you've faced similar dilemmas."

Ethan nodded. "To stand or to protect. It is the perennial dilemma of the Master of any house."

Gabe nodded. "Truth. I'm mulling over our options, but I'm leaning toward letting the party continue. When the mourning's done, the Pack will need a release."

"And what about us?" Catcher asked.

Gabriel's eyebrows lifted. "You're part of the mystery-solving gang, aren't you?"

Catcher muttered something unflattering, and Mallory nudged him. "I presume you want us to stay here tonight?" she asked.

"It would make things easier," Gabe said.

"So we'll sleep on the couch," Catcher said, "like we're twelve-year-olds at a slumber party."

"In fairness," Ethan said, "we don't all have to sleep on the couch."

"In fairness," Catcher said, "you can kiss my a.s.s."

"Ladies," Mallory said. "Let's put on our big-girl panties. Merit and Ethan are already sleeping in the bedroom, and there's no point in making them move. Catcher and I can take the couch. The shifters will feel better if we make this work, and it's no great loss to any of us."

We all stared at her for a moment, at her implacable tone and reasonable words. If this was Mallory 2.0, I thoroughly approved.

"She's right," I said. "We can make this work."

"We're going to run out of clothes, though," she said.

Gabriel nodded, looked over the sorcerers. "I'll talk to Fallon, Nick. They should be about your size, might have something to offer." He grimaced. "And there will be plenty of Lupercalia shirts to go around. I doubt most will want the souvenirs."

"We'd appreciate whatever you can find."

"I actually have a small request," I said, and Gabriel angled his head toward me.

"Yes, Kitten?"

"We didn't have our swords tonight. Finley basically told us not to wear them, that they'd p.i.s.s off the family. But if we're looking for monsters-especially monsters with magic-I want steel."

He chuckled, sharing an appreciative glance with Ethan. "I'll talk to them."

Gabriel then gestured toward the food still untouched on the coffee table. "Sun will be up soon. I'll let you eat and get some rest."

I was seated closest to the door, so I rose, too, intending to fix the locks after he'd gone. But when we met at the door, Gabriel stopped to turn his gaze on me. His eyes, the color of warm amber, swirled like tempests.

"Thank you for saving them."

I nodded, smiled. "You're welcome. I was glad to help."

But his expression stayed serious, his eyes deep and fathomless, the sight of them enough to raise goose b.u.mps on my arms.

"As in much of life," he quietly said, "it could have gone the other way."

My chest tightened. Like sorcerers, shifters had the gift of prophecy. Did he mean Tanya might have died? That he might have lost her and Connor in the battle?

A bolt of something ran through my chest, a feeling on the precipice between grat.i.tude and grief. I was glad his family was safe, and troubled that things might so easily have ended in tragedy. I didn't know how to give voice to the feeling or how to respond.

"I don't predict the future," Gabriel said, answering one of my unspoken questions. "But I know the weight of things. There is a gravity about her now, about Connor, that suggests things might have gone the other way. That their roads might have diverged from mine. They didn't, and I'm grateful."

"I'm grateful, too."

He smiled. "That's why I like you, Kitten. You're good people." He leaned in and pressed a kiss to my cheek, and the flush rose from the tips of my toes to the top of my head.

"Thank you," I said, and before I could ask my own questions-about the other prophecies he'd made-he slipped outside and into the darkness. There never seemed to be time for that particular future.

Gabriel gone, and a long night of warring behind us, we looked back at the food. It smelled porky, but when Mallory pulled back the aluminum foil, she revealed a tray of unidentifiable grayish chunks, some of which were tubular and looked distastefully intestinal.

Ethan slanted his head as he looked at it. "Is Berna trying to feed us or kill us?"

"I suspect the Brecks put in their two cents about what we should be eating," Catcher said, who nevertheless forked a pile of the meaty chunks, flecked with fat and sinew, onto one of the paper plates she'd provided.

"You aren't digging in, Sentinel," Ethan said.

"I think I'll stick to blood," I said, the meat not even slightly appealing despite my obvious hunger. "What ever happened to that package Berna gave you?"

"Lost in the battle," Ethan said. "And isn't that a disappointment?"

I grabbed bottles of Blood4You for Ethan and me and sat down on the couch beside him again, exhaustion sinking heavy into my bones.

"What a miserable night," I said, handing over a bottle.

"Seconded," Catcher added. "Unfortunately, I doubt we've seen the end of the trouble." He lifted a long, spiral bit of pork from his plate.

My stomach-usually so hearty-twisted nastily. But I'd need my strength, so I made myself finish the blood and then grabbed a yeast roll from the other tray Berna had brought. The meat might have been questionable, but there was no faulting the warm and b.u.t.tery bread.

"You think they'll attack again?" Mallory asked.

"I think it would be unusual to bring the amount of fight and magic we saw tonight and a.s.sume that was the end of it. But I doubt they'll attack overnight."

"Why?" Ethan asked.

"Because the harpies were as much show as substance," Catcher said. "You attack when everyone's asleep, you don't get the show."

Ethan walked to one of the large windows and pushed aside the curtain. "In the event there is an attack, there are two guards. One on each side of the door." He hit the b.u.t.ton that dropped the window guards into place and turned back to face Mal and Catcher.

"Perhaps, to be on the safe side, you could add a layer of magic?" Ethan asked. "A ward in case Gabe's colleagues decide their loyalties aren't entirely firm?"

Catcher nodded, chewed. "Already discussed it. A little buzz along the doors and windows to signal a trespa.s.s, and a second layer to make trespa.s.sers think twice."

Ethan nodded and returned to the couch, but instead of sitting beside me, he stretched out along its length, his head in my lap. He didn't relax easily, and certainly not with an audience. Exhaustion must have worn him down. I ran my fingers through the golden silk of his hair, watched his eyes close in relief. It had been a long night; I was thankful we'd come through it mostly unscathed.

Something made me glance up. I found Mallory watching me, surprise in her expression. She'd been with me when I met Ethan for the first time, and while we'd battled each other. Ethan and I had grown closer when Mallory and I had grown apart; maybe she was still getting used to seeing us as a couple. h.e.l.l, I was still getting used to it. I made a mean Sentinel now, but at the time of my making I'd preferred books to most everything else, and he'd chosen me. That still awed me on occasion.

"Sun's nearly up," Catcher said, patting Mallory's knee. "Why don't you two get to bed, and we'll get things fixed up in here?"

Ethan nodded, rose from the couch, and held out a hand, his gaze beckoning. "Come, Sentinel. Let us away and leave them to their magic."