“We don’t have much choice.” I rolled into my driveway. “It’s probably a good thing. They’ll keep her too busy to get into trouble.” I parked with a sigh. “They meet every Sunday after church. The last time, they drank their weight in margaritas and ended up passed out on the porch and in the driveway.”
Genuine alarm sharpened his expression. “With guns?”
“One of them is always chosen to be the designated ammo holder. So, yes to guns. No to bullets.”
“You have interesting neighbors,” he mused. “Are you sure they’ll be okay unsupervised?”
“I have the numbers of their husbands and grandkids if they get too out of hand.”
Back home, we exited the vehicle in time to find a moth on the porch, judging us.
Behind her, standing guard, was Clay. He rubbed the smile off his face at our cold reception.
“You left.” Colby landed on my head and knocked on my skull with a hand. “Why would you do that?”
“We have to find this guy.” I winced at her rough treatment. “You’re not safe until we do.”
Our home ought to have been inviolate after the years of blood, sweat, and effort I had sunk into the wards. But white witch work paled in comparison to the dark magical muscle the killer—or killers—was flexing.
“I don’t want to be left behind again.” She shrank to hair bow size. “No one will notice.”
“I’ll think about it.” I squeezed past Clay and dropped her in the kitchen. “Eat your breakfast.”
With a huff, she returned to normal size and set about making her usual meal. As slow as possible. There were snails in the flowerbeds moving faster than Colby as she eavesdropped on the adult conversations.
“Let me help you.” I scooped up the bowl of pollen, made her fresh sugar water, then carried everything to her rig. She drifted behind me, barely flapping her wings, doing her best to drag her feet midair. “Stay put, and plug in. For real this time. There are some things you don’t need to hear, okay? I don’t want the images in your head.”
“It’s not like I haven’t seen it before,” she muttered softly. “I can handle it.”
“You have, and you can.” I swallowed to wet my throat. “That doesn’t mean you should have to again.”
Asa met me in the doorway with a grim expression that didn’t bode well for our investigation.
“Nine agents have been present at all four crime scenes.” He guided me into my chair then reclaimed his across from me. “Two of those, including Kidd, are junior agents. The rest are veterans.” He checked the screen. “The Kellies are in the process of locating the seven we haven’t spoken with yet.”
“Okay.” I rubbed my temples. “Why was Kidd recruited?”
“His mother was a lone wolf, and that’s how she raised him.” Clay knew the details without checking, so he must have already read this information. “She edged too close to the boundaries of her local pack’s land when prey became scarce. Kidd trespassed during a hunt, the alpha heard about it, and he went to set Kidd straight. His mother recognized the alpha, panicked, and challenged him.” Clay exhaled. “The alpha killed her quick. Kidd witnessed it. He flew into a rage, attacked and killed the alpha, then he ran.”
A warg with alpha tendencies and the strength to overthrow a pack on a whim had to be kept in line.
Packs policed their own, but with Kidd a rogue, the pack must have called Black Hat to report him.
“That means he’s strong, fast, and violent.” A killer. Like the rest of us. “What else do we know?”
“He was a part-time film student at a local college and worked full-time for a techy big box store.”
That fit with the artistic perspective Kidd brought to the crime scene videos and the possible camera hacking at the hotel.
“He has no magic.” Asa worried one of his earrings. “If he’s our copycat, then he’s definitely one of a pair.”
Wargs had only the magic they were born with. While it was transformation magic, it wasn’t a gift they could share with others. They might eat hearts because they tasted good, but they wouldn’t gain power from it. But souls? They had no means to call them or collect them, let alone consume them.
“The more we learn, the less we know.” I stared at the ceiling. “I’m not a fan of playing defense.”
Offense was more my style. Keep an opponent on their toes, and they had no time to plan their next steps.
The house phone rang, which was unusual, and I hopped up to answer. “Hello?”