creature animated by magic, Clay sensed power in others. From experience, he had a decent gauge.
To practice the black arts, you didn’t have to be a witch, only magically gifted. But we excelled at it.
Our killer, copycat or not, was skilled in a way that left me certain he was witchborn.
“Then we move on.” I pulled up the next address. “Looks like it’s about fifteen minutes from here.”
On the drive over, Colby texted me proof of life, a photo of her stuffing her face with pollen granules. An orange sports bottle rested on the desk beside her, a kiddie cup verging on doll sized, full of sugar water. And I, to avoid making her feel babied, didn’t mention I had spied on her while she slept. Like an overprotective creeper.
I showed the guys, who both smiled at their first glimpse of her rig, as she called her gaming station.
“Your familiar bond with Colby…” Asa juggled his words more carefully. “Is it functional?”
“It’s set, or she wouldn’t be here.”
“Can you draw power from her?” He kept his tone light and accusation free. “Can she draw from you?”
“I’ve never tried, and to my knowledge, neither has she.”
“You can ever only bond to one familiar.”
“I’m aware.”
“Yet you refuse to use yours for her intended purpose.”
“And?”
“I wonder how you bear it,” he said softly. “The constant temptation to take what you want.”
“It almost sounds like you’re asking if I saved Colby to punish myself.”
“Maybe I am.”
“Maybe you’re right.” His question echoed thoughts I’d had myself, years after the fact. “Maybe she was the motivation I needed to finally screw up the courage to change. Maybe I didn’t feel I deserved a fresh start, but I knew she did.” I wet my lips. “Colby saved me every bit as much as I saved her. Except I had it easy. I killed the Silver Stag for what he did to her and the other girls. Colby, she had to save me from myself.”
“Curiosity is the curse of my heritage,” he said quietly. “Half my heritage, in any case.”
Since he dug around in my past, I felt entitled to his. “How do you identify?”
“As dae.” He smiled a bit. “There are a lot of us.” He glanced at me. “Enough to form our own subrace.”
“Dae.” I mulled it over. “I like it.”
Though he kept quiet, I sensed Clay thinking hard at me, and they weren’t happy thoughts.
He and I had covered old ground too, but it had taken months of partnership, not days of acquaintance.
But Asa had Clay to vouch for him, and a fraction of my trust of Clay extended to Asa on that basis.
I wasn’t jumping in with both feet with Asa. More like dipping my toes in the water.
No matter what Clay thought, or how loud he thought it.
10
The oh crap handle found its way back into my hand when Asa pulled onto a pockmarked dirt road.
“Grit your teeth,” Clay suggested, “or they might bounce loose.”
A tidy singlewide trailer sat at the end of the long drive on a patch of bright green grass. The sharp edges of the lawn told me the homeowner had laid sod but only enough to create their own mini oasis. A car in pristine condition, a miracle considering the state of the road, sat in front of the small porch.
This time, Clay got his chance to knock, and he did so carefully, as we had been greeted by a storm door.
A plump woman in a cherry apron greeted us with a welcoming smile. “How can I help you?”
“We’re looking for Dan Malone.” Clay grinned right back, and she blushed. “Does he live here?”
“Danny?” She waved an oven-mitted hand. “He’s my husband. Come on in. I have cookies.”
The file mentioned Dan Malone was a lynx shifter, but it made no mention of a wife.
“I never say no to cookies, ma’am.” Clay led the way after she opened the door. “They smell divine.”
“They’re my specialty.” She dialed her cheer higher. “Danny! Darling, these folks are here to see you.”
An older man with white tufts of wiry hair sticking out of his ears entered the living room.
“Rose.” His sigh ended on a growl. “What have I told you about letting strangers in the house?”
“We never have company,” she fussed. “It gets lonely out here, all by ourselves.”
Expression softening on her, he hardened again as he looked us up and down, pausing on me. “What do you want?”
With a shifter nose, I probably stank to high heaven to him. “I’m Agent Rue