reaction. She wanted to run, run. The vibe she got from the opening was unnerving—fear and the smell of something rotten, combined with a push of magic she really didn’t want to understand.
But if Stuart was in there …
“We should check it out,” she heard herself say.
Kurt looked ill. Graham glowered at Peigi, but he squared his shoulders. “Kurt, stand guard. Run for Eric and Diego if anything goes wrong.”
Kurt stepped back, both relieved and chagrined. He was terrified but ashamed Peigi volunteered to go when he couldn’t. But Kurt didn’t have a lot of dominance, and Graham, a good leader, wouldn’t force him into a situation he couldn’t handle.
Peigi started forward. Graham rumbled in irritation and got ahead of her. He was leader, so damn it, he’d lead.
As worried as she was about Stuart, Peigi did not want to go inside that hole. Since her captivity in a cellar of an abandoned warehouse, dank basements didn’t thrill her. She’d been fine in Kurt’s well-lit, dry, tiled and painted hallway, which could have been in any part of the house, but this tunnel was different. It meant confinement, no air, nowhere to run.
“I hope Stuart appreciates this,” she muttered as she ducked inside after Graham.
Graham’s laugh came back to her. “I’ll make sure he does.”
The tingle of magic grew stronger, raising the hairs on the back of Peigi’s neck. Her bear snarled and cursed. Bears were supposed to like caves, and Peigi used to. Another thing Miguel had taken from her.
White mist began to swirl around them, clinging and damp. The overall scent was of acrid smoke with a touch of mint.
“I hate the Fae,” Graham muttered. “Hate, hate, hate.”
Peigi was right there with him.
They took another two steps, three, and the mists engulfed them.
“We need to get the hell out of here,” Graham said, but at that moment, Peigi saw a dark shape in all the white.
“Stuart!”
She darted toward him. Graham grabbed at her to pull her back, but Peigi jerked from him and dashed to the tall, motionless man.
Stuart gazed into the mist, staring at nothing, arms at his sides, his body still. He didn’t turn when Peigi ran to him, didn’t acknowledge her.
“Stuart!”
“What’s wrong with him?” Graham manifested from the mists. “Wake him up. Let’s go.”
Peigi put her hand on his strong shoulder, finding him cold beneath his shirt. “It’s me. You okay?”
Stuart didn’t move. His dark eyes were wide, fixed, as though he saw something she couldn’t. He was breathing, alive, but eerily motionless. Fear wound through Peigi’s heart. She couldn’t lose him. Couldn’t.
“Screw this,” Graham said. “I’m carrying him out.”
“No, let me.” Peigi started pulling off her shirt, kicking out of her shoes, ready to shift.
She folded her clothes out of habit—she’d taught the cubs that they shouldn’t simply scatter their things but gather them neatly, so they could redress when they were done playing in their animal form.
Peigi handed the folded pile to a nonplussed Graham.
“Anyone ever tell you you’re a neat-nik?” he demanded as he took it.
“Yep.” Peigi turned from him, and became bear.
It felt good to be in her bear form, something she’d wanted to do all morning. She stretched her strong limbs, shaking out her fur, a full growl issuing from her throat.
Peigi could scent so much better in this form. Graham smelled wolf-y and nervous—he didn’t like this any more than she did. But he’d never let on. Not Graham the ferocious alpha wolf.
Stuart’s scent melded with the mists—he was a being of Faerie, so he carried a hint of smoke as well, but nothing like the bright sharpness of the high Fae. He was more like sandalwood and darker spice, strength and silence.
His body remained rigid, eyes empty. Stuart was trapped—how, Peigi didn’t understand and didn’t much care. She just wanted him out of there.
Peigi circled Stuart, took a long breath, and barreled straight into him.
Stuart was tall, and he toppled like a tree. Graham caught Stuart as he went down, suddenly loose-limbed, and draped him over Peigi’s back. Stuart didn’t wake. Graham held him steady as Peigi started back out the way they’d come.
At least, she hoped it was the way they’d come. The mists were confusing, sounds absent. She had scent, but with the overwhelming stench of the ley line, she couldn’t be certain where Kurt’s basement lay.
From Graham’s wolf snarls, he didn’t know where it was either. “We need Reid to wake up and magic us home. I hate when he does that.” Graham shuddered. “But