Circle of Desire

Chapter Twelve

Kat wandered into the next cabin as Ethan took a shower.

The front door was open, and the smell of rain and pine hung heavily in the air. Gwen was visible through the doorway, a steaming mug of coffee held between her knotted hands. She made herself a cup then joined her grandmother on the porch.

The sky was still heavy with the remnants of the night's storm, and the chill of winter was in the air. Days like today were best spent huddled in front of a warm fire, chocolate and a good book in hand, not out hunting the dead. Not that they had any choice — not when time was running out for those kids and maybe even themselves.

She ignored the premonition of rising danger and raised her cup to the sky. "If the colour of those clouds is anything to go by, it's going to be a bitch of a day."

"At least zombies don't like the cold any more than we do. It slows them down."

Which could be a good thing if there was a houseful of them to contend with. "You think that's where Janie and Kathy are?"

"Too easy. But the zombies have to be guarding something, so it's definitely worth a look."

She sipped her coffee for a moment, watching a small brown bird flit from tree to tree. "Has Seline come through with anything?"

Gwen nodded. "She's been able to confirm a lot of what we already know, and has found some additional information. This thing is an extremely ancient spirit and apparently very hard to kill."

"Great," Kat said sourly.

Gwen's gaze became speculative as she continued, "In many respects, it is similar to a vampire, only it feeds on souls rather than blood. It does have one interesting restriction — it can only feed while at the height of passion. But the same sort of weapons that kill a vampire can kill the Mara."

"I attacked it with a stake last night, and it didn't seem to do much."

"Was it in human or spirit form?"

"Spirit."

Gwen nodded. "Apparently it can only be killed in human form. Attacking it at any other time will do little more than wound it."

No wonder it was so hard to kill. "So why is it taking these kids?"

"That's the frightening bit. Apparently, when the Mara is coming near the end of its life cycle — " "How can it be a spirit and have a life cycle?"

"All things, living or dead, die eventually, whether willingly or forced. Life never-ending is not all it's cracked up to be."

Kat raised her eyebrows. "Oh yeah? Says who?"

"Says Michael, who's the oldest vampire in the Circle.

According to Seline, he was pretty close to either ending it all or stepping across the line when he met Nikki."

Kat nodded. She'd only met Michael once, but she had been more than a little overwhelmed by not only his good looks and charm, but by the dark aura of destruction that had seemed to shadow him.

"Anyway," Gwen continued, "when a Mara is near the end of its cycle, it breeds. To do this, it needs to perform a magic ritual. From here on, it's purely guesswork, but we think eating the souls the youngsters is just a side benefit, and that it's the emotions of the young that is a vital part of the ritual. That would probably explain why it's not killing these kids anywhere close to its own young. All magic is dangerous, and it doesn't want to endanger its own offspring."

A chill raced across her skin and she shivered. Facing one Mara was bad enough. Facing a host of them, whether youngsters or not, was not something she wanted to contemplate.

"Then it'll be dark emotions they feed on," she said.

"Like horror. Terror."

"And that's probably why it's keeping these kids for a week or so before it kills them. Gives plenty of time for fear to build."

"Or plenty of time for the youngsters to siphon off those emotions before the Mara ships the kids out to perform the ritual."

Gwen nodded. "Seline hasn't discovered what form the Mara's youngsters take."

"My guess is we'll discover that soon enough ourselves."

"You're probably right." Gwen drank her coffee for a few minutes then said, "So, what's troubling you, kitty-kat?"

She smiled. She never could keep anything from her grandmother for very long — not even the faintest of worries. "You remember me saying that both of us were more than able to contain our hormones long enough to take care of protection? Well, last night we forgot."

Gwen sighed. "That's always the worry with werewolves.

That aura of theirs can be overwhelming sometimes." She paused, then added with a fond smile, "That's how your uncle came into being, you know."

Kat's smile widened. She hadn't known that, though it certainly explained why he was the only wolf shifter in a family of ravens.

"Does Ethan know?" Gwen asked.

She shook her head. "We used one this morning, and I cleaned up afterwards. I doubt he even thought about it."

"Are you going to mention it?"

She hesitated. "I don't know. He was so damn vehement about never having kids."

"Yet he's obviously very close to this niece of his." Gwen regarded her thoughtfully. "There's a story in all that, I wager."

"If there is, it's not one he's telling me." Not yet, anyway.

"Besides, I won't know for a couple of weeks for sure."

"I can tell you tonight. A day passed is all the stones need to see such things."

"I know." But did she want to know? Knowing meant she had to decide whether to tell Ethan or not. He had the right to know, and yet, he'd already told her he didn't want a relationship, let alone kids, and she had no right to trap him that way. Especially when she was more than capable of raising a child by herself.

Gwen sighed. "A kiddy will put a serious dent in our Circle activities. At least for a couple of years."

The anticipation evident in her voice suggested it was a dent she'd more than welcome. "Don't start counting your ravens before they hatch."

"Might be a pup," Gwen mused. "Mine certainly was."

"I really don't care what it is."

Gwen grinned at her. "Sounds as if you're certain it happened."

Deep down she was. Gwen might have scrying and visions, but her own second sight was just as strong, if somewhat more erratic. But she wasn't about to admit her certainty. Not yet. So she shrugged. "You're the one who told me they were lethally fertile around moon fever time.

With the way my luck has been running of late, it's bound to be a certainty."

Gwen touched her arm, squeezing gently. "You should talk to him. Try to find out why he is so against children of his own."

She sighed. "I'll try. But digging information out of that man is hard."

Footsteps echoed across the wooden floors behind them.

Ethan appeared two seconds later, a cup of coffee in hand as he stopped beside her. He was close enough that she could smell the fresh soapiness of his skin, yet not close enough for his arm to brush hers. And she sensed this slight distancing was deliberate. That after last night, he needed to put some space between himself and the emotions they'd raised.

And that annoyed the hell out of her.

"Benton just called," Ethan announced. "The missing kid turned out to be a custody case — just as you'd predicted."

Gwen nodded. "I'm not usually wrong, you know. I gather he's on the way back?"

"Yeah. He's told me to tell you to stay put. He wants to talk to you both about last night."

"We can't stay put." Kat's voice was sharper than she'd intended and earned an amused look from her grandmother. "We have a house to investigate."

Ethan nodded. "I told him as much. He ordered me to wait."

"And are you going to follow his orders?"

"Nope." He took a sip of coffee, his gaze distant. "I get the feeling Janie's time is running out. If we don't find her today or tomorrow, we're not going to find her at all."

"I feel the same way, wolf." Gwen sighed and rose stiffly from the stool. "I've got some packs ready with zombie deterrents and sleep potions in them. I'll just add some stakes, then you're ready to go."

Ethan watched her walk away. Her hobbling was worse this morning and pain pinched her mouth. "Why is your grandmother doing this?" he asked once Gwen had gone.

Kat's glance was quizzical. "Doing what?"

"This. Chasing bad things. Why do it when she's old enough to retire?"

"She's also strong enough to turn you over her knee and paddle your butt for even suggesting such a thing."

He couldn't help smiling. "I reckon she'd enjoy it, too."

Kat's own smile was fleeting. "You'd better believe it."

Ethan sipped his coffee and studied Kat. There was strain around her eyes and shadows beneath them. He'd thought they'd settled all their problems last night, but looking at her now, he had to wonder.

"So, why isn't your mother here helping?"

Her expression tightened. "My mother is dead."

He hesitated but didn't apologize. He could never understand exactly why people did that, though as a cop, he'd certainly done enough of it himself.

"Did she die on the job?"

She snorted. "No. She overdosed."

"Deliberately?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Does any addict overdose deliberately?"

"Yes." And far too often for anyone's liking.

Her gaze slid from his. "I have no idea whether it was deliberate or not. Gwen probably knows, but I've never asked."

"Why not?"

"Because I barely knew her."

"Were you young when she died?"

Her smile was bitter, and her hurt swam around him.

"No. I was ten. But she never had much to do with me."

"Why?"

"Because I was a hindrance to her social life. Gran raised me from the time I was born."

And if that hurt was anything to go by, she resented the abandonment, if only on a subconscious level. "And she never tried to help your mother?"

She gave him a long look. "They have to want to be helped before you can help them. You should know that."

"I reckon your grandmother could convince a cat to shower if she wanted to."

"I reckon she probably could. But Mom was her daughter and every bit as strong-minded."

"What about your dad?"

She looked away again. "I never knew my dad."

He hesitated. Her stance was still and straight, and the emotions that swam around him thick with pain. Yet he had to ask the question, if only because he sensed this could explain why she was the way she was — strong and independent, yet oddly vulnerable. "Why not?"

She looked at him. Tears touched her green eyes but were quickly blinked away. "Because my mother sold herself to feed her habit. My father could have been any one of the dozen men she'd had on the day of my conception."

It was a familiar enough story — many addicts fed their habit that way. He took a sip of his coffee, then said, "It sounds as if you know who her clients were that day."

She snorted softly. "I do. I stupidly asked her once. She gave me a very detailed account of the possibilities."

A charming woman, from the sound of it. "And you never tried to track any of them down, just to see?"

She looked at him, her expression closed, but her eyes filled with sudden anger. "Why should I? Mom was nothing more than a body on which they rutted to relieve themselves. What difference would it make knowing which one of them was my father?"

So they were back to that again. "Kat — " She held out a hand. "I've heard all the bullshit, Ethan. I don't want to hear it again."

"I told you the truth last night." His voice was amazingly calm, given the anger beginning to surge through his veins. "Don't keep pushing for what we both know isn't there."

"You told me part of the truth," she shot back. "As much you thought I needed to know, nothing more."

"Because there is nothing of importance left to say."

Nothing except the reason his world, his heart, had shattered so completely.

Pain rose like a tide, threatening to engulf him. Even now, all these years later, that night still haunted him. The image of Jacinta, deliberately throwing herself down those stairs… He shuddered and finished his coffee in one long gulp.

It didn't drown the images of all the blood. On her head, between her legs…

"I'll wait in the car." He slammed the cup down on the railing and stalked toward the vehicle.

Kat joined him about ten minutes later. She threw a pack onto the back seat, then fastened her seat belt. He started the car and headed for the mountains.

"I'm sorry," she said after a few minutes.

She didn't sound sorry. "Forget it."

His voice was still brusque, and she sighed. "Ethan, how old were you when you met Jacinta?"

He barely glanced at her. "I told you last night.

Seventeen."

"And she was your first?"

He smiled grimly. "Hardly. When puberty hits, so too does the power of the moon."

"But she was the first woman you'd really fallen for, as opposed to just mating with?"

"Yes." He hesitated. "Why?"

She regarded him for a second, her green eyes serious. "If she was the first woman you felt anything for, how do you really know she was it , rather than just a rather heated crush?"

"She wasn't a crush." His voice was tight with the anger that rolled through him. "Drop it, Kat."

She sighed again. "You are really the most stubborn and irritating man."

"Takes one to know one."

Amusement swam around him. "I hardly think you can call me a man."

He couldn't help smiling, despite the anger. "Well, no."

"Will you answer just one more question?"

His smile faded as he flexed his fingers against the steering wheel. "Maybe."

"Why do you say you hate kids so much when you're obviously close to your niece?"

He relaxed a little. At least this was a question he could answer with practiced ease. "I don't hate kids. I just don't want any of my own."

"Why?"

Because he didn't want any child of his going through what he'd been through. And the surest way to ensure that was simply not to have any. "That's a second question."

"Given you didn't actually answer the first properly, I think it should be allowed."

She was persistent, he had to give her that. But he also had to wonder why. Was she thinking about trying to trap him by becoming pregnant? He stared at her for a moment, trying to gauge whether she was capable of such deception. While he didn't really think she'd stoop so low, the truth was, beyond the physical, they really didn't know each other all that well.

God, he'd better keep his wits about him and make damn sure they kept using condoms.

"Because," he lied, his voice a little sharper than necessary, "a werewolf's sense of family is all tied up with his heart. I can't physically love any offspring I might sire on any woman other than the one who captured my heart."

"Yet you love Janie."

"But she's not my get, and I don't love her in the same way."

"So what would happen if one of your monthly mates were to get pregnant?"

Tension knotted his gut, and he shot her glance. "Don't even think about it, Kat. I like you — a lot — but that's as far as it goes. I don't love you, and I certainly couldn't love any offspring you and I might produce."

"I'm not thinking about it, believe me." Her voice was hard, almost bitter. "And that didn't answer the question."

He took a deep breath, then blew it out in exasperation.

"If I answer this, will you promise to drop the subject for good?"

Her gaze searched his briefly. He wondered what the hell she was searching for.

"Yes," she said after a moment.

"Good." He hesitated, steering the car around a sharp bend. They were approaching the cabin where he'd found the zombies, and he slowed, needing to look for a place to park. "If one of my mates got pregnant, I would support them financially, but that's it. I wouldn't see them again.

Wouldn't see the kid."

"But why? That's what I can't understand."

He stopped the car in a stand of trees and turned to face her. "Because it's never good for a child to see his father treating his mother with utter contempt. And that's all I'd feel for someone who tried to trap me that way."

For several seconds there was nothing to be seen in her expression. Nothing beyond curiosity in the emotive swirl that swam between them. That in itself eased some of his tension, and when she smiled, it dissipated even more.

"I was only asking, Ethan, so relax. In a job like mine, I can hardly afford to be carting a kid around."

Even so, he was going to keep carrying condoms in his jeans pocket. "Good. Because I'd hate to think you'd sink so low."

"Never fear," she said, thrusting open the door almost viciously. "I know you're in it for nothing more than a good time, and I don't intend to forget it. Or the condoms."

"Good," he muttered and climbed out of the car.

And wondered why the thought of her belly fat and round with his child filled him with such fierce and sudden longing.

Kat squatted beside Ethan and studied the old shack below them. It was a small wooden structure that looked to have been at the mercy of the elements for a good five years. Not the warmest hideaway in the world, though it was doubtful the dead really cared.

She shifted the weight of the pack on her back, then said, "You wait here. Once I'm sure the sleep bombs have worked, I'll call you over."

He placed a hand on her arm, stopping her from rising. "I don't think you should go down there alone."

She bit down on her impatience and ignored the concern in his eyes. "We've been through this already. Gran only included one mask." Truth was, she didn't include any .

They didn't need them, because these sleep bombs were designed to affect only the dead. But she needed to get away from him for a few minutes. Needed time alone to gather her thoughts. To contemplate the reality of bringing a kid into the world who might never know his father.

Pain rose. She pushed it away and stood. "I've been doing this a long time. I know what I'm doing when it comes to the dead." It was the living she couldn't understand.

She walked down the slope to the small cabin. The smell of death was so overwhelming she gagged. She took several deep breaths through her mouth to ease the churning in her stomach, then edged around the corner and headed for the nearest window. The glass was grimy, but even so, she could see the dead on the floor. Ten of them. God help her and Ethan if they woke before the sleeping potions had a chance to work.

She kinetically unlocked the window and eased it up. The zombie closest to her stirred. She froze, hoping the gentle breeze playing in her hair didn't take her smell to it.

It turned then began to snore. She swung the pack off and carefully dug out the four golf ball-sized bombs. They were warm against her palms, their feel almost jellylike.

She tossed one into each corner of the cabin, listened for the gentle plop that indicated the outer skin had broken, and watched as pale fingers of red smoke began to ease across the floor. She closed the window and glanced at her watch. They'd have to wait five minutes for the mist to do its stuff, making it safe enough to enter.

She squatted on her heels and leaned back against the cabin wall. Thunder rumbled overhead, a warning of the storm clearly gathering. The smell of rain sharpened the air but didn't quite erase the smell of the dead. She hoped the storm didn't break until after they'd explored whatever it was the zombies protected. If those clouds were anything to go by, the storm was going to be a doozy.

Maybe enough to wake the sleep-spelled dead.

She let her gaze roam across the tree line until she found the shadows in which Ethan hid.

What in hell was she going to do with him?

He kept insisting he wasn't capable of loving her, and yet his touch and his eyes and the emotions that sometimes surged between them suggested otherwise.

Could a wolf lose his heart more than once?

She'd ask him, except for the fact she'd promised to drop the subject and didn't want to risk alienating him completely. Maybe it was a question Gwen could answer.

She hoped so. Because she very much suspected she was falling in love with the damn man.

She hugged her arms around her belly. She'd find out tonight if she was pregnant or not. And if she was, there was one thing she was suddenly certain of.

Her child would know its father.

She'd grown up without that knowledge and knew the pain it caused. If he didn't want any part of his child's life, then fair enough, but her child would know who he was, what he looked like, what he did and where he lived.

They would have the sense of history, of belonging, that in many respects she never had, no matter how much Gran had loved her. Four simple pieces of information could have made her childhood seem a whole lot less of a mistake.

And perhaps most importantly, her child would never be in doubt that her mother not only wanted her, but loved her. Or him, as the case may be.

She glanced at her watch again then rose and looked inside. The red mist had almost dissipated. It should be safe enough now to enter without waking the zombies.

She signalled to Ethan, then carefully opened the window. A heartbeat later she felt the warmth of his presence wash over her senses.

"What, no masks?" Ethan asked, voice low and annoyed as she clambered inside.

She hid her smile and met his gaze. "Don't need them with the mist almost gone."

He snorted softly. "Wouldn't be a ploy to keep me at a safe distance while you explored, would it?

"Of course not," she said absently as she looked around, trying to sense the presence of anything else other than the sleeping zombies.

"That's what I figured." He stepped carefully over a zombie. "What are we looking for?"

"I don't know. You check that door." She waved a hand at the door to their left. "And I'll look around here."

He made his way toward the door. She stayed where she was, hands on her hips as she studied the floor. The air gently caressing her face was damp and smelled slightly musty. It wasn't the staleness of a cellar, rather that of an old cave. Suggesting, perhaps, there was another access point here besides the window and the front door. One that went down rather than out.

She stepped over a dead man and followed the caress of air into the shadows. And found a trap door. One that had a zombie sleeping over the top of it.

"Nothing in this room," Ethan said quietly. "You found anything?"

"Yeah, a zombie in the damn way."

He stopped beside her. "So why not kill it?"

She gave him an annoyed look. "Contrary to popular opinion, I do not run around killing zombies willy-nilly.

Besides, if I kill any of these things right now, the person who raised them would know."

"Then let's move it, so we can check out the door." His voice held an edge of impatience. Or maybe it was annoyance.

"I'll move it. You touch it, and it might just wake."

She directed a thick lance of kinetic energy at the zombie, carefully moving it closer to the window. It stirred, tearing at her kinetic hold. Hot lances of fire burned into her brain, and she bit her lip, blinking back tears as she eased the creature back to the floor.

Ethan had the trap door open and was squatting near the edge, peering down into the darkness. "It smells damp.

Musty."

She nodded. At least the air coming up from the darkness was free from the scent of death — for the moment, anyway. "I'll go down first, check that it's okay."

He glanced at her. "What if we're attacked?"

She slipped off the pack and opened it, grabbing the stakes and zombie deterrents. "Use these," she said, offering him a set.

He just looked at them. "Thanks, but I'll stick to my gun."

"A gun won't work against the dead."

"I'm sure they'll stop if you shoot their damn brains out."

"Zombies have no use for brains, so splattering them won't make a difference." But she put one set of weapons away, knowing he wasn't going to believe her until he actually shot a zombie and discovered for himself what little effect a bullet had.

She handed him the pack then peered into the hole. It was as dark as hell down there, but the breeze was coming from the right. She looked up at Ethan. "Just how good is your night sight?"

"Wolf keen." He frowned. "I was under the impression your sight was pretty damn good as well."

"It normally is, but I can't see squat down there."

"Then I'd better lead once we're down."

She nodded and climbed in, dropping lightly to the stony ground. For several seconds she did nothing more than listen. Everything was still — silent. Almost oppressively so.

She met Ethan's gaze. "It's okay."

He jumped down then caught her hand, his fingers warm against hers. "Nothing?"

She shook her head. "Nothing dead, at any rate."

"Good."

He tugged her forward. The chill in the air increased, and the ground seemed to be sloping downward, though the darkness was so deep it was hard to be sure. The tunnel was narrow, tight, and her breath caught as she imagined the weight of the walls and the roof bearing down on her.

She only had to straighten her fingers and she could brush the cold stone. Sweat trickled down her forehead, and she bit her lip. Damn it, why couldn't she see? It was odd, to say the least. Especially when Ethan obviously could. She would have thought a raven's sight to be nearly as good as a wolf's, but obviously, it wasn't. Or maybe it was just the fact they were under the ground rather than above it.

Ahead, moisture dripped, lending the darkness a steady heartbeat. The dank smell increased, until it almost felt like they were breathing in liquid.

"I'd say there's a river overhead." Though his voice was soft, it seemed to boom through the tunnel, echoing loudly.

"I can't hear water running."

"Probably wouldn't, with the amount of rock above us."

Right now, she didn't need to be reminded about the weight above them. She swiped at a trickle of sweat and peered past his shoulder. Something glowed up ahead. "Is that light?"

"Torchlight, by the way it's flickering." He squeezed her hand. "It opens up a little up ahead."

"Good." She didn't bother masking her relief. "Can you smell anything?"

"Humans. Two of them."

Though his voice was flat, she could feel his excitement.

"It might not be her, you know."

"I know."

But his pace increased regardless. The flickering glow grew until it shone warmly across the damp rocks and finally lifted the darkness. Ahead, the tunnel opened up into what looked like a wide cavern. Relief crawled through her.

There was no one to be seen ahead. Nothing to be heard.

But she could certainly smell someone. Something.

She pulled Ethan to a stop. "Zombies, dead ahead."

"How many?" His question was little more than a caress of air past her ear.

"Two." She hesitated, and frowned. "But there's something else."

"What?"

"I'm not sure." She let go of his hand and stepped forward cautiously. Energy tingled across her skin, brief but powerful. She raised a hand. The further she reached, the sharper the buzz, until it felt like it burned across her skin. Eventually it became a wall that resisted her efforts to push any further. Tiny slivers of energy shot from her fingers, lightning sharp as they crawled up that unseen wall and faded away.

"What the hell is that?"

"Some form of magic barrier. I haven't got the equipment with me to get past it right now."

She kept her hand against the barrier and moved from one side of the tunnel to the other. The barrier appeared to be oval in shape, bowing out into the tunnel from either edge.

"Touch it with your fingertips," she said. "Keep that contact so you know where it is but don't go any closer."

He nodded. The lightning that crawled away from his touch was sharper, more fiery. He hissed slightly. "Feels like I'm being eaten by ants."

"I think it would be a whole lot worse if you came into full contact with the thing." She edged around to the right.

"Can you see anything from your side?" he said.

"A wall and another tunnel." One that looked carved by nature rather than man. Or magic.

"I can see living dead men." He hesitated, and a wave of emotion hit her, so strong it knocked her backwards. "And Janie." Anger, hope, and frustration combined in his voice and speared right through her heart. He really did love that little girl.

"You sure?"

His glance was sharp. "Yes. I can see her face. You've got to break this thing so we can get her out."

"I can't — " "Damn it, she's here. She's alive, and I'm sure as hell not leaving without her."

"We have no choice, not right — " "I will not leave her!"

"And if I try to break this barrier without the right tools, I'll risk killing us all. Can't you feel the power in this thing?"

"It's only magic, for God's sake. How dangerous can it be?"

She stared at him. "Have you learned nothing in the last few days?"

"That's my niece in there." A stiffened finger stabbed the air, and the unseen barrier buzzed almost angrily as lightning flared away from his touch. "And if you won't get her back, I will."

"Ethan, no!"

He thrust at the wall, fists clenched as he tried to force his way through. Electricity swarmed around his wrists, locking him tight, then began crawling up his arms. He swore vehemently, tugging to get free as the slithers of lightning reached further up his arms and began wrapping him in a web of energy.

"See what happens when you don't listen to me?" She swung off her pack and pulled out the slender chain of pure silver — the only metal immune to the effects of magic.

"Now is not the time for an I-told-you-so." His teeth were clenched and sweat beaded his forehead. "Get me free of this damn thing. It feels like it's sucking me dry."

What she should do was leave him there a few minutes, so he'd learn to pay magic a little more respect. "Since it was made by a creature who steals souls to survive, I wouldn't be surprised if that's exactly what it's doing."

She looped the chain around his arms, and the lightning shrivelled away from it. Cut off from the main source, the web of energy wrapping around his body fizzled and died, leaving only his clenched fists in contact.

"Now pull free."

With a grunt of effort he did. "Thanks," he muttered.

She nodded and unwrapped the chain from his wrists. If she'd had enough with her, she could have created a doorway to crawl through, but neither she or Gwen had expected the soul sucker capable of something like this.

Though why, she had no idea. An ancient spirit would have had more than enough time to learn a magic trick or two.

"It won't take much more than an hour to go back to the cabin, get supplies and come back."

His look suggested an hour was fifty-nine minutes too long. "Then go. I'll wait here."

"For what? You can't get past the barrier."

"But I can watch. I can see if she's moved or anything."

And what if the soul sucker came to taste rather than move? What could he do, other than go insane watching?

"The zombies or the Mara could come down this tunnel at any time."

His gaze went back to the cavern. "The tunnel will force the zombies to come down one at a time. That I can handle."

"And the soul sucker?"

"Leave the pack."

She sighed in frustration. "Wear this, then." She grabbed his hand and dropped the silver chain into his palm.

He frowned. "Why?"

"You saw how the energy reacted, didn't you?" When he nodded, she continued. "That's because pure silver is immune to magic, and as such, repels it. So wear it and make yourself a little less of a target."

"Does that mean I can't shift shape?"

"Magic is magic, whether it's a wall or the ability to shift into another form."

He wrapped his fingers around the chains. "Go. And be careful going through those zombies."

"I will." She hesitated, wanting to kiss him but not daring to take the step that separated them. Not sure how he'd react to the everyday act of lovers the world over.

He made no move, his attention on the cavern more than on her. She sighed, dropped the pack at his feet and walked away.

The darkness closed in around her again. She dragged her fingers along the walls to keep her bearings and tried not to think about the tons of rock and dirt hanging over head.

She was trembling by the time the end of the tunnel came into sight, and she shifted shape with relief, flying through the trap door and out the window. Out into the wide-open skies. Lord, the freedom of it felt so good.

It took far less than an hour to fly back to the cabin, grab the necessary supplies and get back to the tunnel.

But the zombies were gone when she arrived.

And so was Ethan.