Michael said, and I glanced up to find him hunched over the computer keyboard again, his head barely visible behind my father’s seventeen-inch flat-screen monitor. “With any luck, I’ll have a location for you soon….” His words faded away as the clicking got louder.

While Michael worked his computer magic, my father turned back to face the rest of us. His gaze settled first on Ethan as he seemed to consider something. Then he shook his head and turned toward Owen, on my right. “You and Parker get ready. You leave as soon as we get a fix on Andrew’s last-known location, to scout it out and see if he’s stil there.”

“We takin’ the van?” Owen asked, already halfway to the door, dusty cowboy hat in hand.

“Yes. And take the ful emergency kit, not the trunk version.”

I swallowed thickly, unwil ing to imagine what use they’d put the emergency kit to when they found Andrew. Yes, by all indications he was no longer the sweet, quiet math major I’d once known. But that was my fault, as was whatever else happened to him. Suddenly I felt sick.

“Faythe?” my father said, and I met his eyes reluctantly, already dreading whatever he would ask of me. “I assume you have Andrew’s number, since he’s been calling you?” I nodded, and he continued. “If Michael can’t find him, I want you to call him and set up a meeting—somewhere other than here. Say whatever you have to say.

Agree to anything he wants. If he’s really looking for a confrontation with you, he should be eager for this chance.”

“Where do you want us to meet?” I asked, my fingers twisting into knots in my lap. I was not looking forward to seeing Andrew again.

“In a park, or campsite. Somewhere that looks open and rural, but that won’t really give him anywhere to run. And that will adequately hide the rest of you,” he said, glancing around at Vic, Ethan, and Jace. “Give me a minute, and I’ll have a location for you. In the meantime…Vic, go make some coffee.”

I started to laugh, assuming my father was joking. But then Ethan and Jace followed Vic into the kitchen, without so much as a smile. Evidently

“make some coffee” was Alpha-speak for, “It’s going to be a long night, folks.”

“Don’t you think Marc should be here?” I asked several minutes later, plucking at a loose string on the hem of my shorts. As awkward as it would be for me to have my current boyfriend present when I spoke to my ex-boyfriendturned-psychopathic stalker, it would be worse not to have Marc there.

Michael’s tapping paused for an instant, and my father looked up from the atlas, where he’d been eyeing a regional map of East Texas for the past few minutes. “We can fill him in later. You’re going to have to give him some time, Faythe. This is going to be very difficult for him to deal with. Parts of it will be impossible. You know that. You know him.”

I nodded. I did know Marc. That was the problem.

“Coffee!” Vic shouted from the kitchen across the hall. “Get it while it’s hot!”

My father scowled deeply, glancing at the open doorway. “He could have at least poured it for us.”

I laughed, my mouth already watering from the scent of the gourmet Amaretto-flavored brew now infusing the air. “I think you’re confusing him with Mom. We’re lucky he even knows how to use the coffeepot.”

“All men know how to make coffee,” my father insisted, rising to follow me across the room. “It’s a survival instinct. I made my first pot at twelve, though my mother wouldn’t let me drink any for another four years.”

In the kitchen, I padded past Ethan and Jace, who’d come in ahead of me, and stood on tiptoe to take two oversize latte mugs down from the cabinet while my father put spoons out on the counter. I set one mug in front of my father and kept the other for myself, then fil ed them both.

“Hey, Vic, if I pour coffee for Marc, will you take it to him?” Normally, I’d have told Marc to come get his own damn coffee, but considering he’d just found out that I was secretly still in contact with my murdering psychopath of an ex, I figured I could manage an apology in the form of a simple mug of coffee. Two sugars, no cream.

“He left about an hour ago,” Ethan said, pulling a loaf of bread from the breadbox.

“Where’d he go?”

Vic emerged from the fridge with a carton of French vanil a creamer, kicking the door shut behind him. “Don’t know. I think he just needed to get away for a while. Don’t worry. He’ll be back.”

I poured creamer into my coffee and stirred, not comforted in the least by Vic’s assurances.

“Hey, Faythe?” Jace asked, and I looked up to find him watching me from a stool on the other side of the bar. “How much does Andrew know about us? About himself?”

“I don’t know.” I frowned, sipping from my mug as I considered the question. “He seems to know quite a bit.” Which I realized only in retrospect, thinking back over our recent conversations. “He certainly knows what we are, and where we live. And he seemed to know my parents wouldn’t be happy about my infecting him.” Though I’d had no idea what he was talking about at the time.

“How is that even possible?” Jace pushed his stool back and rose, heading straight for the now nearly empty coffeepot. “I understand how he knows he’s infected. I assume that one’s fairly self-explanatory. But if you never Shifted in front of him—and I know you never told him about any of us—how the hell does he know that you infected him? Or that the rest of us are werecats, too? Or that infecting humans is a big no-no?”