We were marched into the main portion of the house, and then into a formal living room, where Gabriel held court again. The same crew was here again tonight-the Keenes, the Brecks, and a dozen other shifters, including Jeff.

Once again, the room was mostly men, but tonight there were exceptions. Fallon sat on an immaculately tailored couch beside her brother, and Tanya sat on his other side, Connor in her arms. Another female shifter sat on the floor at Tanya's feet, a pet.i.te brunette who had Tanya's big eyes and sweet features. I guessed she was in her early twenties and probably a younger sister of Tanya's. She was a lovely girl, with bee-stung lips and pink cheeks, her brown hair pulled up in a messy knot.

The energy in the room was different than it had been last night. Still cautious, grieving. But tonight there was something else, a new softness running through the weft and warp. I presumed Tanya and her sister had brought that to the party.

Tanya glanced at me, nodded her head in acknowledgment as she brushed a hand across the fuzz on Connor's head, comforting him-and probably her-at the same time.

"Guests," Gabriel said, nodding mildly at us. He wore a long-sleeved T-shirt with a complicated pattern, jeans, and boots with traces of mud on the bottom. The faint scents of dirt and blood lay beneath fresh flowers and the cologne of the various men in the room. They'd been outside, probably walking the earth where their comrades had died.

Gabe caught my gaze, and I looked up at him. "I trust you slept well."

"As well as possible, considering."

"Any developments regarding the attack?" Ethan asked.

"Not yet." Gabe glanced at the large grandfather clock that ticked ominously across the room. "But that report should come any moment now."

"And the festival?" Ethan asked.

"We do not give up easily," Gabriel said. "We've managed to get the grounds back into shape, the tents prepared again." That explained the mud on his boots. "Lupercalia will continue tonight."

Volleys of magic filled the air as the shifters in the room reacted to the announcement. Some were relieved, some nervous, some angry.

I felt Ethan's jolt of surprise, understood it. But we were vampires, and the violation hadn't been against us. Perhaps they needed to prove to the world-and themselves-that they could battle back.

"We wish you the best," Ethan said. "And obviously we're happy to a.s.sist as we can."

The clock struck six with a sound like church bells, and the door creaked open.

The shifter who stood in the doorway was tall and rangy, with black hair that reached his shoulders and a shadow's worth of stubble. His skin was honeyed, and his eyes were chocolate brown and deep set, offsetting honed cheekbones and a generous mouth. He wore the NAC jacket over jeans and boots, and a series of tangled cords and wraps on his right wrist.

As manly appreciation wasn't appropriate under the circ.u.mstances-and considering the stink eye from Ethan's direction-I muted my expression. But as I looked away, I happened to catch the wide-eyed interest in Tanya's sister's face. I'd seen that look before-I'd had that look before-and it was immediately recognizable, as was the way she seemed to shrink back into her own body, as if willing herself to disappear. She was interested in this new shifter but hadn't yet confessed her feelings. It was the look of every shy teenager who'd come face-to-face with a high school crush, of every coed who'd decided the object of her affection was out of her league.

All the while, the shifter stood statue still before his Apex, oblivious to the wanting in her eyes, waiting for instructions.

"Damien Garza," Gabriel said, gesturing to him. "A member of the Pack." Gabe gestured to us. "Merit, of Cadogan House. Ethan Sullivan, of Cadogan House. And you know Catcher and Mallory."

Ethan nodded, and Damien acknowledged us with a small dip of his chin, his face devoid of expression.

"Damien is here to report on our missing mates," Gabe said, signaling Damien to begin.

"There is no sign of Aline," Damien said, his accent melodic. "But Rowan's body has been found. Just inside the tree line on the south side of the meadow."

His expression was as neutral as it had been before, but the magic in the room dipped sadly, becoming low and melancholic. Gabe closed his eyes and leaned back against the couch, shoulders slumping in grief.

"We are sorry for your loss," Ethan gravely said. We'd had to say that too many times since our arrival in Loring Park.

Gabe nodded, rubbing his forehead with his palm as if to soothe the tension there. "Is Aline gone by choice or coercion?"

"I do not know," Damien said. "But she is not on the estate. And I have looked well."

"Surely she's just gone home," Finley said, glancing at his fellow shifters. "Left the premises because of the drama."

"All those years she didn't leave," Fallon said. "Why would she leave now?"

"Because you brought sorcerers and vampires into your sanctuary."

All eyes looked to Mallory, who'd spoken the words. She glanced across the room, making eye contact with each shifter, the act an apology and a reckoning.

"It's the truth, right out of her mouth," Mallory said. "Maybe it was the final straw for her."

"Regardless of the reason," Gabe said, "the timing is suspect. She left precisely when the night brought tragedy to our people, and I don't believe in coincidences."

He looked up at Damien. "Go to her home. Learn what you can." Then he looked at Ethan. "As you've offered your help, I suggest Merit go with Damien to look for Aline. It wouldn't be wise for you to leave the estate, all things considered. I suggest you and the sorcerers stay here and help us ensure the safety of the Pack tonight."

Papa Breck scoffed at the notion he needed protecting, and it was clear Ethan didn't like the idea of our splitting up. But as plans went, it wasn't as bad as it might have been. We had agreed to investigate, and Ethan couldn't leave the estate until the coast was clear. Lupercalia was going ahead as planned, so we might as well help the Pack.

"I cannot speak for Catcher or Mallory," Ethan carefully said. "Merit will go with Damien-but Jeff will go as well."

Ethan, ever the strategist, had done the math. Damien was an unknown, but Jeff was an ally. We'd literally walked through fire together.

A thin smile played at Gabriel's lips. "Your terms are acceptable, Sullivan. Damien, Jeff, Merit-go now. And find her."

I didn't want to leave Ethan. I (mostly) trusted his safety to Catcher and Mallory, but they'd still be surrounded by shifters who hadn't decided whether we were friend or foe. And many were leaning toward the latter.

Ethan escorted me to the foyer, where we waited while Jeff and Damien researched Aline's address. I took the opportunity to play Sentinel.

"Make sure you're armed in case there's another attack. Keep your phone on you. And stay in Catcher's line of sight at all times. He'll keep you out of harm's way."

Ethan c.o.c.ked an eyebrow. "I do not need a sorcerer to keep me safe."

"Let's hope not," I said. "Because that wouldn't do much for your hard-a.s.s vamp cred."

Ethan humphed. "I have all the hard-a.s.s vampire cred." The ferocity in his eyes was actually pretty convincing. "You'll stick to Jeff?"

"As close as I can. Do you know anything about Garza?"

"Nothing at all," Ethan said, sliding his gaze to the tall and rangy shifter, who stood against the opposite wall, arms crossed as he looked down at Jeff.

"This was the best bargain you could make," I a.s.sured Ethan, squeezing his hand. He didn't look entirely convinced, but I was right; there was no better bargain in the offing.

"Got it," Jeff said, tucking his phone away and moving back toward us. "We're good to go."

"You'll keep an eye on her?" Ethan asked, giving Jeff the same cool look he'd given me.

"I was hoping she'd keep an eye on me," he good-naturedly said. We smiled, looking at Damien pleasantly to invite him into the conversation, but his expression stayed blank.

Realizing the joke hadn't gone far, Jeff grimaced and gestured toward the door. "Let's forget this happened and get in the car."

Wordlessly, they walked to the front door and disappeared outside, letting in a swift breeze that swept across the foyer.

Ethan took my lapels in hand and hauled me against him, his body hard and hot against mine. He kissed me slowly, deeply, madly.

"I love you," he murmured, mouth slipping to my cheek, an electric chill running the length of my body.

I closed my eyes for a moment, letting myself linger against him. "I love you, too."

He kissed me again and released me. "And Sentinel?"

I glanced up at him, fairly drunk from the kiss.

"For the sake of peace between shifters and vampires, do try to avoid staring at Damien Garza." With that advice and a sly smile, he slipped back into the room, just in time to avoid catching the blush on my cheeks.

I hadn't stared.

I'd admired. There was a difference.

In his boots, Damien couldn't have been a hair under six feet five. He was long and lean, which made the small electric car he pulled up to the front of the Breckenridge house seem like a clown car by comparison.

"This looks . . . energy efficient," I politely said, as I squeezed into the backseat, katana across my lap.

Jeff climbed into the pa.s.senger seat beside Damien, the front of the car small enough that their shoulders nearly touched.

"It is," Damien said, eyes narrowed at me in the rearview mirror. I smiled politely and couldn't help imagining the possibility he'd drive Jeff and me to the middle of a cornfield, take us out, and leave our bodies for the crows.

On the other hand, I thought, as he revved the car's lawn-mower engine, I could probably run faster than the car.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"Into town," Jeff said, glancing back. "Aline's got a house near downtown."

"Any friends or relatives she might have gone to visit?"

"Not here in town," Jeff said. "But she does have a human resources gig at an agricultural company about halfway between here and Chicago."

"Friends?" I asked.

"Unknown," Damien said. "She kept to herself."

"I don't recall seeing her at the battle," I said. "We met her before it started. She made a snarky comment about nonshifters and the downfall of the Pack, and then hustled off into the crowd."

Damien nodded but didn't say another word.

A few minutes later, he pulled the car into the driveway of a small cottage on a quiet residential street. The surrounding houses were small but the yards were tidy, and probably would have been full of pansies had the weather been warm enough.

Jeff helped me out of the car, and I belted on my katana. Damien gave it a quick glance, lifted his gaze to mine.

"You can use that effectively?"

Not appreciating the tone, I decided to meet it head-on. I rested my fingers on the handle, gave him an appraising glance. "Can you shift effectively?"

When he made a dubious sound-something between a snort, a chuckle, and a grunt-I decided I'd made the right play.

Alert for any sign of life, or harpies with hostages, we walked up the sidewalk to the front door. Jeff climbed the stairs, pulled open the metal storm door, and tried the doork.n.o.b.

"Locked," Jeff said, glancing back at us.

"Allow me," Damien said, sliding into Jeff's spot, wiggling the k.n.o.b, and then rapping his knuckles along the edges of the frame, as if testing for weakness.

"Stand back," was the only warning we got, and he barely managed to finish the warning before his foot was up and out and he'd made contact, kicking the door in.

It flew open, slamming back against an interior wall with rattling force. When it swung forward again, still propelled by his momentum, he caught it in a hand, nodded at us.

"Not locked," he simply said.

Quiet was Damien Garza. And effective.

The scent that wafted from the house was strong and not entirely welcoming. It wasn't the smell of death-thank goodness-but of dirt. Old paper. Dust. Musty fabrics. And beneath it all, the acrid scent of animals. Cats, I thought. A few of them, considering the odor.

My eyes adjusted to the darkness. Aline's house was small, dingy, and full of . . . everything. Dust motes floated through the few shafts of light that managed to penetrate the darkness and the tall columns of boxes, magazines, and flea-market finds. Ceramics from the 1970s competed with quilted jackets, and romance novels with bodice-ripping covers were stacked with tangled coat hangers.

"She's a h.o.a.rder?" Damien asked.

Jeff nodded. "Apparently so." He glanced around the room and the narrow paths through the stuff, then pointed at the pathway straight ahead. "Merit and I will go that way. You go to the right."

"Roger that," I said, and Damien quickly disappeared behind a towering stack of mismatched encyclopedias. I took a few steps into the other path, and Jeff fell in step behind me.

"So what's the scoop on Damien?" I quietly asked.

"The scoop?"

"I've never seen him around before."

"He stays behind the scenes," Jeff added. I glanced back. He'd found a stack of magazines and papers and was flipping through them. He chuckled, pulled out a magazine, and held it up. Monthly Disco Review, read the cover, which featured a couple in flimsy chiffon beneath an enormous dis...o...b..ll.

"A cla.s.sic publication," I said. "Better photographs than Disco Review Monthly and better articles than The Disco Month in Review."

Jeff chuckled, as I'd meant him to.

"You're avoiding the question."

"Not avoiding," Jeff said. "Just being discreet." He slid the magazine back into its stack. "Damien handles the Pack's messier matters. Sensitive matters."

"He's an enforcer?"