“Everyone out,” Rory said. “We’ll bar the door again. Since apparently he couldn’t escape before we arrived, that should be enough to keep him trapped. Darcy, you know him better than any of the rest of us. Let’s see if he’ll talk to you.”
They all trooped back into the corridor, Fenrir having to squeeze himself through the narrow door. He stood protectively at Darcy’s back, furry bulk squashed against her in the confined space. It wasn’t entirely comfortable, but his solid presence behind her was reassuring.
“Vance?” Darcy called through the barred door. “Vance Carmichael-Rhodes? Can you hear me?”
A low moan answered her. She heard scuffling sounds, as though he was sitting up.
“How do you know my name?” he mumbled.
“My name is Darcy Soloman. I’m a private investigator. Your wife hired me to find you.”
“Elena,” he whispered, voice breaking on the name. Then, in sudden panic, “No! She can’t see me! Don’t let her in!”
“It’s okay. She’s not here. She doesn’t even know where you are. Or what you are.”
Yet, Darcy mentally added. She had no idea how she was going to explain this to poor Mrs. Carmichael-Rhodes. She was certain her client didn’t even know that shifters existed, let alone that her husband was one.
“Please don’t tell her,” Vance begged. “Please. I’ll do anything you want. Anything.”
“We just want you to answer some questions,” Darcy said. “First of all, do you know where Lupa is?”
“No.” Vance’s voice got a little louder. Darcy guessed that he was moving closer to the door, but his low, defeated tones didn’t suggest that he was preparing to attack. “Gone, somewhere. The wendigo too. They wanted me to come too, but I refused. It’s not safe for me to be free.”
“So they locked you up down here?”
“Yes. But it’s not what you think. I’m not a prisoner. I mean, I am, because I can’t get out. But I asked Lupa to put me down here.”
“We thought she’d kidnapped you,” Rory said. “We were at your cabin. We saw her fly off on her wendigo with you. It looked like you were unconscious.”
“I was. I sedated myself before she arrived at my cabin. It was the only way she could safely rescue me.”
“Rescue you?” Darcy said. “From what?”
“From you, I think,” Vance said, with a hint of grim humor. “Lupa told me that someone was after me. She said it wasn’t safe to stay on my own in my cabin any more, not with powerful shifters on my trail. You’re her enemies, aren’t you? The firefighters who work for the Thunderbird.”
“What do you think we are, motherloving minions?” Buck said indignantly. “The damn thing nearly burned us all to a crisp. We don’t work for that zap-happy overgrown chicken.”
“But we are allied with the Thunderbird,” Rory said. “Even though it doesn’t always seem to realize that. We’re fighting Uncegila. Do you know who that is?”
“Oh yes.” Vance made a strangled, choked sound, somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “Oh, I know her. I knew her long before I knew her name. Long before I met Lupa. Night after night, I saw the horned serpent in my dreams.”
Darcy exchanged an alarmed glance with the rest of the crew. “Has she marked you, Vance?”
“No.” Vance’s voice slid down to somewhere around knee level. Darcy pictured him slumping over, back against the door, head in his hands. “She didn’t have to. I was already a monster.”
*Is Deathsnake,* Fenrir rumbled telepathically. *And mother is queen of snakes. Falls under her dominion.*
From Vance’s lack of reaction, Darcy guessed he couldn’t hear the hellhound. “You mean Uncegila could reach you through your animal, Vance? Because you’re a basilisk?”
“Yes.” Vance sounded beaten, and tired. “At least, that’s what Lupa said, when she found me hiding in the mountains. All I know is that I felt something pushing me, calling me to Montana. I didn’t care too much at the time. All that mattered was getting away.”
“From what?”
“Everyone,” Vance whispered. “You saw what’s inside me. The monster.”
“You’ve lost control of your shifting,” Rory said. “Did Uncegila do that to you?”
“Lost control?” Vance let out a bitter, hollow laugh. “I never had control. This creature destroyed my life. I had money, admiration, success. A brilliant, beautiful wife. Oh God, Elena.”
His clear pain made Darcy’s chest hurt in sympathy. It was the same as her own heartbreak; the knifing agony of loving someone with all your soul, and not being able to be with them.