Ambrose, acting as if he was the one doing me a favor and not just given permission to gorge at an all-you-can-eat buffet, slithered around the ladder and latched on with his greedy fingers.
I hit my knees with no memory of dropping, and coughed up smoke.
What the actual hell?
Sadly, I still felt my connection to Ambrose, but the shadow was gone. Poof. Vanished.
The ward packed a nasty punch all right, and it must be part siphon too. Anyone who touched it would get shocked back as a warning, but it would also leech enough of their energy to make them think twice about trying again.
A reserve of energy stolen from its victims must be what powered the ward. Self-sustaining workings were critical on areas of this size. Otherwise, the maintenance required made them impractical for everyday use.
Ambrose was a creature of energy, magical energy, and it had drained him to the point he retreated to recharge. Even after hours of sneaking tastes from passersby. The shadow had failed me, its hunger not up to the task, and I seesawed between the stark hit of joy I experienced whenever Ambrose was checked by an outside force and frustration my best chance at getting in had gone off to lick its metaphysical wounds.
“Leave it.” Midas made it an order, and he helped me to my feet. “We’ll find another way.”
“There is no other way.”
“The kids are the priority.” He brushed the hair from my eyes. “Let’s focus on finding them.”
The gwyllgi teens would be the first of many victims if we didn’t get this drug under control, but I couldn’t do a frakking thing without Ambrose, and he wouldn’t tackle that ward again tonight if I gave him an entire box of La Madeline au Truffle straight from Danish chocolatier Fritz Knipschildt’s own kitchen.
The reminder of the pack’s involvement did make me curious. “Who told you about Faete?”
“The pack frequents bars all over the city, and we tip well.”
And in return, I imagined, the bartenders called when pack kids found trouble or trouble found them.
We linked hands, more to keep track of one another in the crowd than for the romance, but it was still nice.
An hour slipped through our fingers, but we combed every inch of Crescent Avenue Northeast with no luck. About to expand our search, I noticed a young woman standing still as others swirled around her.
“Hey.” I tugged on his arm. “That girl looks familiar.”
Zeroing in on the crowd, he picked the lone sober face from among the dizzying crush. “That’s Krista.”
“Looks like she’s alone.” I began weaving through the bodies, dragging him in my wake. “She can have the pleasure of ratting out her friends.”
Drugs were just as illegal for para teens as human ones. Even a blip in their control could cost someone their life. These kids were getting spanked once Tisdale got ahold of them. Their parents wouldn’t be too thrilled either.
“She smells strange.” Moving into position beside her, he filled his lungs then sneezed at the smell. “Not like pack.”
“Maybe that’s why you and Ares couldn’t find them earlier?”
“Maybe,” he allowed, “but the implications are dangerous.”
Aside from the obvious inability to track them, I didn’t get his worry. “What do you mean?”
“The core Atlanta pack is enormous, and its satellite packs are healthy sizes too. Even I don’t know all the extended members by name or face. I know them by smell, though. This drug, if that’s what’s causing this, has erased the one form of identity guaranteed to keep them safe.”
“Are they in immediate danger?”
“No adult gwyllgi will attack a child unless the adult is sick, but older teens exist in the limbo of pack hierarchy. All it takes is one aggressive adult who thinks they’ve discovered a trespasser for blood to spill. It’s our nature, and it’s usually a death sentence for the younger gwyllgi.”
The unwelcome news set a clock ticking over our heads, as if we needed more incentive.
“Krista,” I called over the noise. “Hey, girl.”
Whipping her head toward my voice, Krista beamed for the split second before she recognized me. Then it registered I wasn’t whoever had earned that smile, and the flush drained from her cheeks. Panic bright in her eyes, she bolted around the corner.
“I’ve had a long day,” I grumped, “but I don’t smell that bad, do I?”
Midas leaned in, ran his nose along my jaw, his breath warm on my skin. “You smell like—”
“Woo later.” I ducked out of his reach then broke into a