His arm moved, the muscled appendage rising like a ghostly silhouette. A blade-like shape appeared in his hand, and then with a long stroking movement in the air, he slashed down on his other arm.

My breath sucked in.

A low chanting hum reached my ears, then a rattle of something scattered across the floor before the sharp tang of blood hit my senses. That was when it struck me—he was scrying.

He possesses enough sorcerer magic to do that? While I had psychic ability to see glimpses into the past and occasionally the future—something rare among witches as that power was usually commanded by psychics only—I wasn’t a seer. I couldn’t have found my sister even if I’d used ancient spells and blood rites. That ability was reserved for the select few, the special ones among the psychic and sorcerer species.

So he’s a werewolf, and he possesses enough sorcerer magic to scry. Huh . . .

My curiosity again was piqued. I’d never heard of any male werewolf being able to do any of that.

A buzz came from my purse, startling me, and I realized it was my phone. Gods, I hadn’t even inspected my purse strap yet to see what damage Hoodie Guy had inflicted on it.

A glimpse at the torn leather told me the strap would hold for the time being, but I’d have to divest a complicated tactile spell to fix it completely.

Thanks, douchebag.

I pulled my phone out to check the text. My eyes widened when I saw who it was from.

Missed seeing you last night. Hoping to catch up with you whenever you get time.

Gods. Carlos. I’d completely forgotten about him. And what time was it? Surely he’d still be asleep.

But my phone revealed that it was already five in Portland, which meant it was seven in the morning in Chicago. The night was gone, and I hadn’t slept a wink.

I darted another look at the Fire Wolf’s silhouette through the curtain. His arm was down now and he was kneeling on the floor. More rattling came when he appeared to scatter something in front of him. Bones maybe?

I didn’t know much about sorcerer scrying. Like psychic seers, sorcerers that were powerful enough to scry kept their tricks hidden like priceless gems. Perhaps that was the reason the Fire Wolf had wanted to come back here to scry—to keep his secrets safe—and that was why he was hiding behind a curtain while chanting so low it was barely audible. He didn’t want me to see or hear him, but then I remembered the personal items he’d taken from Tessa’s room. Had he taken those so he could scry?

In my limited experience with psychic seers, they’d asked for a person’s belongings or clothing before attempting to find them. Perhaps the Fire Wolf needed those kinds of items too.

Sinking back onto the sofa, I tried to relax and let the soft brown leather cocoon me. Might as well reply to Carlos. At least that would keep my mind off Tess.

I waited for the butterflies to start in my stomach. That’d always happened before when Carlos and I had been together. But my nerves stayed quiet as I tapped in a response.

Sorry about not replying. Things have been a little crazy.

I nibbled my lip and then added to my text before sending it:

How long are you in Chicago?

I didn’t expect his reply right away, so when my phone buzzed, I jumped.

Indefinitely. I’ve moved back. Do you want to catch up tonight?

I stared down at his invitation, my eyes widening. Carlos had not only returned to Chicago and was contacting me, but he’d done so twice in twenty-four hours. And now he was inviting me out . . . again.

So what did that mean? Did he want us to pick up where we’d left off? But how could he think that when things had fizzled out between us? Surely, if we were meant for each other, that wouldn’t have happened.

Maybe he’s just being friendly and is looking to connect with old friends. I finally typed in a reply.

Thanks for the invite, but I can’t tonight. I’m out of town.

His reply was immediate.

Ok. Let me know when you’re back?

My heart thumped. Perhaps he wasn’t just looking for old friendships . . .

I typed one word, and then my finger hovered over it. I wondered how wise it was to send, but then I figured I wasn’t committing to anything, so what the hell.

Sure.

I was about to tuck my phone away when I realized that Prisha had planned to join me at the SF this morning. She still didn’t know that the Fire Wolf had broken into my apartment before whisking me halfway across the country.

I shot her a text, telling her my plans had changed and the Fire Wolf had actually taken the job. I knew that if she read it, she would be calling me, so when my phone didn’t ring, I figured she was still sleeping.

But Carlos obviously wasn’t.

I sat on the sofa, nibbling my lip again as I thought about my ex-boyfriend. When we’d first met, Carlos had been a member of the Supernatural Forces, working in their Magical Forensics division. He’d been the only werewolf in that department, but he wasn’t a dominant wolf—more middle of the pack—so Carlos was easy to get along with and was genuinely liked by others.

But despite enjoying his job, he’d quit the SF to travel. He’d wanted to explore the world, so he’d moved from pack to pack as he’d crossed continents, a necessity for a werewolf since he needed to have intermittent contact with other wolves so as not to turn rogue.

Initially, he’d sent me photos from Europe, souvenirs from Botswana, and trinkets from the Middle East. I’d cherished those mementos, but then they’d become less frequent, his emails further apart, and what had initially been weekly calls turned into monthly, and then none at all.

I’d understood his need to explore, even to leave me behind, because I’d wanted him to follow his own path as much as I hadn’t wanted him to go.

But as time had worn on, my initial heartbreak had turned into acceptance, and then I hadn’t felt anything at all. He’d moved on, and I had too. The relationship we’d once shared now seemed like so long ago, as if it had happened between two people I no longer knew.

I sighed. It’d probably been for the best. Tessa’s disappearances had increased after he’d left, which meant that the SF division Carlos once worked for had grown to know me quite well. I cringed to think about Carlos getting dragged into my sister’s drama.

I glanced toward the corner curtain again. The hunter was still scrying. I stood from the couch, feeling restless despite the creeping exhaustion that was beginning to swim through my veins. Keeping my footsteps silent, I traveled around the room, taking in the details of the Fire Wolf’s man cave, before I began quietly opening things in the kitchen.

The fridge held a twelve-pack of craft beer, several gallons of water, a loaf of dense-looking wheat bread, a wedge of cheese, and cold cuts. So the hunter was a sandwich man with an affinity for dark ales.

In the cabinets, a few navy-blue porcelain dishes lay scattered about, all clean. Beside the plates was a canister of enough pre-ground coffee to caffeinate a small army, several cans of cream soups, and a huge canister of roasted nuts. That was all that the Fire Wolf stored in his kitchen. Dense, calorie-laden food. Perfect for packing fuel into your body when you were in a hurry. So he was also practical.

I snuck a look toward the corner again. Another rattle of bones, or whatever the hell he was using, skittered across the floor. Still scrying then.

I ventured to the closet next and opened the double doors. I expected to see several sets of clothes or bedding on the shelves. Instead, my lips parted in surprise at the array of weapons that stared back at me. Enchanted particle guns, throwing stars, lassoes, crossbows, swords, wooden stakes, daggers, spears, and every size of blade. Several human weapons were also neatly stored in the large closet—assault rifles and a shotgun. And to the side, an entire rack of potions sat arranged in neat little bottles.