CHAPTER ELEVEN

“What the fucking fuck is James doing in Pennsylvania?”

“Hell if I know,” Elise said. She had Lincoln’s cell phone pressed between her ear and shoulder as she went through the racks at a downtown Northgate consignment shop. She hated shopping. Her mood was foul and definitely not improving.

“You’ve got to come home,” Anthony said. “Right now.”

“I haven’t figured out these murders yet.”

“You can’t tell me you still think this is a cut-and-dried rogue werewolf problem. There’s a whole werewolf pack, James is hanging around… Shit’s going down, Elise. This is bad.”

She pulled a pair of pants off the rack and held them in front of her body. It was hard to tell how they would fit when she was wearing a pair of Lincoln’s tightly-belted jeans. “I know it’s bad. I’m not stupid.”

“When it comes to James? Yeah, you kind of are.”

A headache throbbed in her left temple. “Don’t forget, I’m always one sunset and a thought away from bitch-slapping you in Vegas.”

“At least you’d be out of Northgate.”

Elise rolled her eyes. “James apparently wants me to know that he’s here. That’s it.”

“Bull-fucking-shit .”

He was right, of course. It was no coincidence that James and a pack of werewolves were in the same place as seven murders and one missing girl named Lucinde Ramirez. Elise didn’t believe in coincidences anyway.

She chewed on the inside of her mouth, gazing out the storefront to the statue of Bain Marshall in the square. The weather was overcast, but she’d still had to borrow another one of Lincoln’s sweaters to get into the shop. After her run-in with Rylie and Nashriel, Elise was feeling more sensitive to the light than ever.

Her skin wasn’t the only thing feeling sensitive. James’s ring hung from a chain around her neck, heavy as cement shoes dragging her to the bottom of a stormy black ocean. Elise’s heart was raw.

Had James been watching? Did he know ?

Elise shook off that thought. It didn’t matter if he knew what she’d been about to do to Lincoln. It wasn’t any of his goddamn business.

Yet when she spoke again, her voice came out strangely soft. “Why would he do that?”

Anthony scoffed. “Throw the ring through Deputy Marshall’s window? Sounds like a threat.”

A threat…or an invitation.

The demon that had killed Lucinde Ramirez had also killed James. His death had been traumatic for Elise in more ways than one; he was ritualistically bound to her as aspis. Just like “kopis” was the Greek word for sword, “aspis” meant shield. The bonding meant that James could protect Elise from magical onslaught. It also meant that one of them dying would drive the survivor insane. Even if Elise hadn’t been in love with him, she would have been desperate to save his life.

In order to bring him back from the dead, Elise had evoked the demon’s necromantic powers and dragged James’s soul back to the world of the living. Elise had breathed life back into him. Their lives and souls had been irrevocably entwined during that ritual, far beyond the already-rigid ties of kopis and aspis.

She could see through his eyes, think his thoughts, share his memories. And it went both ways.

James had made the rings to shut down the psychic bond. It only took one of them wearing a ring to block each other’s thoughts. At the time, Elise had assumed he made them as a favor to her. Later, she learned that it was because he feared Elise finding the truth within his thoughts: that he had agreed to surrender Elise to her oldest and greatest enemy.

Now, James suddenly wasn’t wearing his ring. If Elise took hers off, too, the psychic bond would instantly be restored.

For the first time in three years, Elise could see him.

She had already decided she wasn’t going to take her ring off.

“I’m not asking you why James threw the ring through the window. I already know why he did that,” Elise said. Because that asshole can’t let me live my life without him.

“Then what?” Anthony asked.

“Don’t you get it? Lucinde Ramirez. James is the only one who could have known that name. He must have filed a fake report. He deliberately lured me here. And he did it using the most painful goddamn name he could have ever picked. Like he’s taunting me for my failure.”

Anthony was quiet on the other end of the line, mulling the same puzzle that Elise was.

What was in Northgate that James would want Elise to find?

“It’s gotta be bad,” Anthony said.

She massaged her temples. The sunlight was worsening her headache, even through a thick layer of clouds. “I agree.”

“I can’t talk you into coming back, can I?” Anthony asked. He didn’t bother waiting for an answer before plowing on. “I’m going to have McIntyre book a flight for me. I want to have your back on this.”

Elise was tempted. But even though Anthony had refused to be fuck buddies, he still had feelings for her. Complicated ones. She hadn’t given up on Lincoln yet—and, selfishly, she cared more about her odds with the deputy than having backup.

“Stay in Vegas,” Elise said, grabbing a couple of shirts that looked like they would probably fit. “But keep your schedule open. I’ll let you know if something changes.”

“You know I’ve got your back,” Anthony said.

“I know,” she said, heading for the counter. “Give me a call when McIntyre finishes getting through the photos of the bites.”

“Yeah, of course. But if James fucks with you…”

“He won’t,” Elise said. She wouldn’t let him.

Anthony hung up without saying goodbye.

Elise dropped the phone into the pocket of Lincoln’s jeans, then took the clothes to the counter. “Find everything all right?” asked the cashier.

She fingered James’s necklace where it hung between her breasts. “Unfortunately,” Elise said.

Elise checked her reflection in the mirror on the counter as the cashier rang up her purchases. The tooth marks hadn’t healed yet. She added a scarf to the pile of clothes she was buying.

The bell over the shop’s door jangled.

“Morning,” the cashier called over Elise’s head. “Nice to see you again.”

“You too,” responded a sweet, youthful female voice. The bite marks on Elise’s throat ached. Her bicep throbbed.

She turned, and came face to face with Rylie Gresham, Alpha of the werewolf pack. Evidently, she had recovered from the seizure induced by Elise’s blood, and looked otherwise unharmed. She was wearing another white sundress, cowboy boots, and a nervous smile.

“Hi, Elise,” Rylie said. “Can we talk?”

Thunder rolled through the looming gray clouds, and it began to drizzle. Elise still took shelter underneath a tree outside the consignment shop—more from the dim sunlight than the rain. She had a great view of the Bain Marshall statue from where she stood. He was a good two stories taller than any other building in downtown Northgate.

In the daylight, Rylie was deceptively cute, considering that she had been a bloodthirsty wolf the night before. With the top of her head barely at Elise’s shoulder and a constant blush glowing from her cheeks, she hardly looked Alpha enough to lead a pack of killer monsters.

But Elise had underestimated her once. She wasn’t going to do that again.

“Where are your bodyguards?” Elise asked. Rylie looked adorably confused. Her brow furrowed, her lips pouted. Someone save me from teeny boppers . Elise elaborated by adding, “Where are the brothers, Seth and Abel?”

Rylie’s eyes widened. “They’re not my bodyguards.”

“Boyfriends?”

Her blush turned a deeper shade of pink. She stepped sideways, moving deeper into the shelter of the tree. Rain pattered on the grass in a hushed sigh, misting the earth. “Look, I came here to apologize.”

Elise folded her arms. Apologize? For Abel shooting her in the face, being chained up in spotlights, getting her throat torn out by a wolf?

At the expectant silence, Rylie continued to speak.

“I don’t think you’re the killer,” she said in a breathless rush. “I believe what you said last night. Nash told me that you’re new to the area, and these murders have been happening for weeks. It couldn’t be you. So, I believe you.” Rylie grimaced. “Abel shouldn’t have shot you. He saw you lurking, and with these murders, he’s been on edge, and…” Rylie shrugged. “I’m sorry.”

“If ‘Nash’ is talking, does that mean he’s recovered?” Elise asked.

“Mostly,” Rylie said. “He’s been…lapsing. It’s like, sometimes, he’s still in the war.” She picked at her thumbnail, as if unable to meet Elise’s eyes. “The old war between angels and demons.”

Elise knew exactly what war Rylie meant. Eve remembered watching ancient human city-states burn under infernal and ethereal assault. The battles between Lilith and Adam had carried on for centuries after Eve died, too. It only ended when Metaraon finally locked Adam in the garden, and the Treaty of Dis was forged to seal humanity’s safety.

Rylie lifted her gaze to Elise’s. The girl’s eyes were shockingly, unmistakably gold, but there was no shyness in them. She didn’t hang her head because she was afraid to look at people. She was trying to conceal the beast within.

“Nash has been out of it for a long time,” Rylie said. “He was isolated from other angels and normal people up until a couple of months ago, so you have to take it easy on him. He’s been having a hard time adjusting.”

“Are you helping him adjust?” Elise asked. She meant to say, Are you fucking the angel, too? But Rylie didn’t seem to hear that implication.

“It’s mostly been my…um, my sister,” Rylie said. “Summer’s taking care of him. But the whole pack helps.”

An angel under the care of a werewolf pack. Nashriel must have fallen a long way to need that kind of help.

Elise’s mouth twisted. “There’s a murderer in your pack.”

“No way.”

“I’ve seen the bodies, kid. They’re werewolf victims.”

Rylie’s eyes sparked. “Kid? I’m the Alpha. You have no right to talk to me like that.”

Elise chewed over her response, studying this so-called Alpha. Rylie wasn’t much to look at. Elise could have taken Abel seriously, maybe, but not a diminutive blond in cowboy boots.

“I measured the bite radius of the injuries you inflicted on me last night,” Elise said. “I’m going to match it to the radii on the cadavers. If it’s a werewolf bite, I’ll know soon.”

“But until then, there’s no evidence,” Rylie pressed. “Do you have pictures? Did you find fur at the crime scenes? Claw marks? Blood samples?”

Elise hadn’t actually found anything at the crime scenes, because she hadn’t had access to them yet. Lincoln had sworn to take her before he went into work that afternoon. “I don’t know,” Elise said acerbically. “What do the files that Seth and Abel stole from the Grove County Sheriff’s Office say about it?”

Rylie looked like she had been slapped. “What files?”

So she hadn’t known about that. Seth and Abel had lied—if not overtly, then by omission.

Elise went on. “You’ll have to ask your boyfriends. Better yet, let me ask them. I want to see what evidence they’re trying to hide.”

Rylie recovered quickly from her shock. “There’s no evidence that we’re guilty in those files. You’ve got to realize that.”

“I’m not convinced of your innocence—you mauled me.”

“You hurt Nash first.”

“I was trying to break free of your imprisonment,” Elise said. “You captured me for no reason.”

“You mean, when you were watching us last night, you didn’t have any plans of hurting us?” Rylie asked, folding her arms, standing firm in the face of Elise’s accusation. “You were chasing Trevin out of…what, curiosity?”

Touché . Elise had been on the verge of stabbing a wolf. If Abel hadn’t shot her, there would have been a body on the ground. But she wouldn’t apologize for that.

Rylie took a step closer, squaring her shoulders, as if preparing for a fight. “When I bit you last night, I saw something that I don’t understand. There were images in my mind.”

The Alpha waited, as if prompting Elise for some kind of answer.

But Elise remained silent.

“I saw a garden,” Rylie continued softly. “I saw you in pain, with blood on your hands. And I think…I think I saw into your heart.” Her brow furrowed. “I saw sadness.”

Elise fought to keep her expression straight, her jaw clenched.

Rylie had tasted Elise’s blood and seen the garden.

It was a private, painful memory. Elise hadn’t given Anthony or McIntyre, who she considered her only friends, details about what had happened to her there. Yet this girl, this child , barely out of adolescence, had walked through the black gardens in Elise’s mind.

“Did you see anything from me?” Rylie asked. Her tone had dropped to a whisper.

Elise shut her eyes, remembering the swollen moon, and jumping from the top of a mountain.

She had felt something strange in that memory. It was the same thing that she had felt in the garden, the same sense of immense power and destiny. Rylie had been touched by gods, too. Maybe not the same ones that Elise had, and in a very different way, but she was touched .

They had something in common. Something very important.

Elise said, “I didn’t see anything. You must have been hallucinating.”

Rylie didn’t look convinced. “Your blood tastes weird. It’s like apple cider.”

Elise reached into her pocket. Rylie tensed, gold eyes flashing, but Elise only extracted Lincoln’s cell phone. “Give me your phone number.”

“What? Why?”

“I told you that I’m doing some investigating today. If you’re innocent, I’ll contact you.” Elise lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Maybe together…maybe we can figure out who’s trying to blame these murders on your wolves.”

Relief flooded Rylie’s features. “We can do that. That would be great.”

“Don’t thank me yet. You don’t know what I’m going to find.”

“You’re going to find that the bites don’t match my jaw, because my pack and I are innocent,” Rylie said. “We’re not monsters. I’ve got everyone under control, and all we want to do is live in our sanctuary in peace.”

“Is that what those cottages are? A sanctuary?”

“Yeah. And I hope that someday, they might be home, too,” Rylie said.

The earnestness of it plucked at some deep, tender part of Elise. Probably not Elise, actually—Eve was a sucker for that kind of talk. Elise wanted to roll her eyes. But she nodded, as if Rylie needed her consent to have a werewolf sanctuary, and the conversation was over.

Rylie dictated a phone number. Elise saved it to Lincoln’s contacts, then returned the phone to her pocket. The girl started to back away, heading for a steel blue Chevy Chevelle that was parked on the curb.

Elise blew out a sigh. “Either way, however this turns out…tell Nashriel I’m sorry. For everything. And he really is forgiven.”

A smile flitted across Rylie’s face, brightening her features like the sun breaking through the clouds. “I’ll tell him that.”