dinnae know what Thea is, how on earth did you concoct a drug that affects her?”
“Trial and error through the years.”
Wait a second … “You experimented on her?”
“When she started to become volatile, we had to find a way to calm her.”
Conall stared at the computer. Question upon question buzzed around in his mind and tightened in his gut.
“Callie’s a vibrant young person,” Ashforth said. The man was studying a photograph that sat on the sideboard in Conall’s office. It was of Conall and Caledonia with their parents.
“Aye.”
“If it weren’t for the chair, you wouldn’t even know she was sick.”
“I know what you’re doing.” He let the man hear his displeasure.
“I’m not very subtle, am I?” Ashforth shrugged wearily.
Callie.
Callie, whose whole being had brightened like a full moon when she heard there was a cure. She’d had reservations when she learned the trade-off was the capture of another young woman, but Conall had assured her that Thea was a murderer who deserved to be brought to justice.
And there was proof she was.
She’d killed people. Innocent people.
What did it matter if Ashforth was lying about the past?
The woman was dangerous, and Callie needed her blood to live.
“I havenae forgotten why I’m doing this. I will bring Thea to you. However, I dinnae fully understand how I’m supposed to pass through border control at Calais with an unconscious woman in my car?”
Ashforth waved the syringe. “A full dose will knock her out. A slight dose won’t but it will weaken her. She’ll be too weak to make a fuss. And she wouldn’t. One of Thea’s fears is being captured by the authorities.”
Somewhat satisfied by that answer but irritated by the news that their journey back to Scotland would be longer than he’d presumed, Conall exhaled. “So … her last known whereabouts was Budapest?”
“Yes. She won’t have a passport.” Ashforth reached for his briefcase again. “Thea has a gift for making people see what they want to see so she could travel to Europe by making border security think they could see her passport.”
The more Conall discovered about the girl, the more uneasy he became. A gift that invaded people’s minds was no gift at all. It was despicable. What the hell was she? “And what if she uses that particular talent on me?”
Ashforth shook his head as he brought a blue passport over to Conall. “It doesn’t work on supernaturals, much to her frustration.”
“How do you know that?”
“I’ve witnessed it.” He put the US passport on Conall’s desk. “I’ll arrange a car for you to be there in Budapest when you arrive. Her last known address is in that information.” Ashforth gestured to the computer. “Her scent will still be in that apartment.”
Scents faded over time and Ashforth had nothing of Thea’s that was recent enough to use. Conall would have to collect that himself. “If I pick up the wrong scent?”
“You won’t. I’ve worked with other supernaturals who’ve met Thea. They tell me she has a distinct scent. Something that marks her as different from human, vampire, witch, or wolf.”
Understanding, Conall nodded. At least that was something. He didn’t want to go on a fucking wild-goose chase.
Turning back to the screen, casually clicking through the documents, he came to a photograph of a young woman. Everything in the room faded out but the image.
It was a candid shot of a brunette looking over her shoulder as she stood in an outdoor restaurant. She wore an apron around her hips and held a notepad, clearly a waitress.
Heart beating fast, Conall clicked on the mouse and zoomed in on her face.
She didn’t wear makeup. Everything about her was extraordinary enough without it and Conall couldn’t even pinpoint why. Long, dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. Eyes big and dark, thickly lashed. Her nose cute. Her lips small but lush. Round, high cheekbones. Skin smooth and tan. If it weren’t for the golden freckles that lightly covered her nose and cheeks, she would have the appearance of an exotic Latin beauty.
As it was, she was a cross between that and the girl next door.
“Thea,” Ashforth murmured.
Conall let go of his breath, unease and trepidation moving through him. Thea was technically no more beautiful than any good-looking woman … and yet, she left a man feeling as though he’d never looked upon anything so lovely.
“Don’t be fooled by her beauty, Conall,” Ashforth implored. “It’s one of her gifts. A weapon. Part of whatever makes her the dangerous creature she is.”
Conall tore his eyes from