middle of nowhere Nevada.
“I have no idea where he is. Let me tell you what happened.”
Peigi described her midnight meeting with Stuart at the edge of Shiftertown and her suggestion that they ask Graham and Eric about the ley line.
“We buried it,” Graham said quickly, a flicker of unease in his gray eyes. “Blew the basements and buried the thing so no more Fae could ride in and say howdy, not to mention enslave us.”
“I know, but Stuart says the ley line is still there. Whoever was trying to talk to him last night must have used it, right? Stuart might be with them, or somewhere along the line, or …”
“Or on top of Mount Charleston.” Graham scowled. “The man can go anywhere. Maybe he’s in Hawaii. It’s nice there this time of year.”
Peigi balled her hands. “Please, can you—”
“Unbury the ley line?” Graham shuddered. “No can do, Pegs.”
“Well, do something. Stuart might be in trouble. I got a very bad feeling last night, like the air itself was hostile.”
At least Graham didn’t dismiss her out of hand. Shifters had terrific senses that went beyond the five—they could instinctively tell when something was very wrong, and Peigi, with her traumatic history, had those instincts honed like razors.
“I get it.” Graham softened his tone. “But I can’t dig up Shiftertown because Reid decided to pop out and grab more bacon from the nearest convenience store. And let’s face it, I can’t disrupt my Lupines at all for him, because …” He coughed, flushing. “He’s not Shifter.”
“Seriously?” Peigi’s anger flared, bolstered by worry. “After all he’s done for you?”
“I know he has. But my wolves, Peigi …” Graham shook his head. “They are stubborn, superstitious shitheads. They don’t like Fae, any Fae, even kindhearted dokk alfars who hate the high Fae as much as we do. I can’t do it until I have more evidence he’s in trouble.”
Peigi didn’t need evidence. She knew.
Only one thing to do. “All right,” she said.
Graham blinked at her, surprised she’d given in so fast. “Well, okay, then,” he said uncertainly.
“I’ll just have to go over your head.”
His scowl returned. “Don’t think so. I have free rein over my Lupines, and this is a problem for my Shifters. Eric doesn’t have jurisdiction. Even he’ll tell you that.”
“I wasn’t talking about Eric.” Peigi made herself meet Graham’s eyes, if only briefly. “I mean Misty.”
Graham stilled, the look on his face priceless. If only Peigi had a camera—she’d be posting that photo on the Shifter network. Hashtag, Graham shits himself.
His flush deepened. “That’s just playing dirty.”
Misty was Graham’s mate. She was human, cute, soft, adorable, and had Graham completely wrapped around her fingers. The big man had a warm heart deep, deep down inside him, and Misty knew exactly how to reach it.
“I’m worried about Stuart,” Peigi said. “He didn’t simply disappear for no reason. What if someone abducted him?”
“Teleported him, you mean? Does that work?”
“How should I know?” Peigi asked in exasperation. “But he mentioned the ley line as though it was key. So we need to find it.”
Graham heaved a long and aggrieved sigh. “All right, all right.” He held up his hands in surrender. “We’ll have to talk to Eric about it, and my Shifters. That’s how it has to be. But don’t, don’t, for the love of the Goddess run to Misty and spill your story. She’ll be all up in my face, and damn, can she yell at me.”
Stuart didn’t like darkness. The Shifters thought he did, since he was a “dark” Fae, but that was just a literal but not quite accurate translation of dokk alfar. He didn’t like this kind of darkness anyway, one that sucked out even the memory of light. A nice cave for a little spelunking was fine, but this place was dank and smelly and held the weight of ages.
“You couldn’t talk to me at a coffee shop?” he called out. “Las Vegas has some good ones. I could be sucking down a triple espresso instead of standing in the dark.”
We need you.
The disembodied voice was creepiest of all. Reid knew it was a struggle to communicate across the worlds, which distorted sound waves or thought waves, or whatever. The ley lines marked where the folds in reality were weakest, but the lines weren’t open gates one could run through any time, thank the Goddess. One needed a talisman, or a spell, or a ritual that often involved blood and violence.
“What do you need me for?” Reid snapped.