As he lay there, unable to move, the air shimmered around him and turned into shapes so old they were remembered only in nightmares.

• • •

Something wrong with her ankle—wrong enough that she couldn’t walk, couldn’t even support her weight enough to stand.

Meg scooted a little farther away from the cold white hand. Then she looked around.

This was it. This was the end of the prophecy. She had found the grave in the woods, the tombstone made of old leaves.

It was cool and dark beneath the trees, but she wasn’t cold. It would be night before the temperature dropped enough for her to feel cold. But she was hungry and tired and so very thirsty.

And alone.

But she was part of the Wolfgard pack at Lakeside. Just because she was alone, she wouldn’t turn into some blubbering human. She would . . .

“Arroo! Arroo!” I am here. I am here, Simon. Come find me. “Ar-r-rooo!” Please find me.

Then she turned into a blubbering human after all.

• • •

A strange sound. Familiar but not. And nothing made by one of them.

Their kin near Lake Etu had sent out a call to all who could hear them: find the sweet blood howling not-Wolf, the little female called Broomstick Girl.

Could this sound be coming from what they sought?

As they moved toward the sound, their footsteps filled the land with an odd silence.

• • •

O’Sullivan took the call, spoke quietly for a minute, then hung up. “The local police found the car.”

“Are we on the right road?” Burke asked, his voice neutral.

O’Sullivan nodded. After a minute of brittle silence, he added softly, “They think they found Cyrus Montgomery.”

Burke didn’t ask what that meant. He already knew.

CHAPTER 27

Thaisday, Messis 23

Snapping out of a light sleep, Meg tried to rub the crusties out of the corners of her eyes without rubbing dirt into her eyes. Had she really heard sirens? The sound carried, but it still meant that, maybe, she wasn’t that far from a road that was patrolled.

Of course, not being able to walk meant “not that far” was still too far.

She looked around again. Maybe there was a fallen branch that she could use like a crutch. Or something within reach that she could wrap around the injured ankle.

She looked everywhere—except at the body lying a couple of feet away from her.

• • •

Burke pulled onto the left-hand shoulder a few yards in front of the brown car and the police car parked behind it. The officer leaning against the side of the patrol car wore captain’s bars and had a look Burke recognized—tough, experienced, and with enough knowledge of what was, no doubt, watching them from the woods to appreciate the danger they were all in at this moment.

“Mr. Wolfgard . . .” Burke didn’t bother to say more, because Simon was already scrambling to get out of the car, shifting his front paws enough to have fingers that could pull at the door handle and snarling in frustration when the door wouldn’t open.

Burke released the door locks. The moment Simon was outside and no longer interested in them, Burke said quietly to O’Sullivan, “Do what you can to keep Monty up here on the road.” Then he pushed out of the car, glancing back at the Lakeside patrol car.

Kowalski didn’t bother to pull over to the shoulder of the road. With two Wolves going nuts in the backseat, he just stopped the car, jumped out, and opened a door for them.

Nathan and Blair rushed to join Simon, who was busily sniffing around the brown car. While the local police captain watched, not daring to move closer or move back, they got the doors opened and their large bodies stretched across the seats. They sniffed everything, trying to find the scent they were looking for.

Simon clawed at the trunk, leaving scratches in the paint until Kowalski hurried over and opened the trunk. Suddenly all three Wolves were pushing their heads and shoulders into the trunk, sniffing and sniffing before they left the car and spread out across the road.

And not one of them even looked toward what lay in the center of a square made of yellow crime scene tape and tall garden stakes.

Burke raised a hand and strode toward the other captain. As he came past the brown car, he saw another police officer searching the grass between the tape and the trees.

“Captain Miller?”

The officer nodded. “Are you Burke?”

Burke nodded in turn, then looked at the two objects that had been placed on a pile of shredded clothing.

“Jimmy?” Montgomery’s voice.

“Lieutenant!” Kowalski shouted.

Burke didn’t hesitate. He body blocked Monty, pushing him back while Kowalski and O’Sullivan grabbed Monty’s arms.

“Jimmy!”

Hearing the anguish in Monty’s voice, Burke felt pity for the man. Monty must have considered the possibility that they wouldn’t find Cyrus alive, but nothing could have prepared him to see this.

“Monty, I’ll handle this,” Burke said. “Wait by the car. Do you hear me, Lieutenant?”

A blank-eyed moment. Then Monty took a deep breath and said, “Yes, sir.”

Burke glanced at O’Sullivan, who nodded and said, “Come on, Monty.”

He watched Kowalski, who was watching the Wolves and frowning. Then he turned to Captain Miller.

“Your lieutenant knew this man?” Miller asked.

“His brother.”

Miller paled. “Gods above and below. I’m sorry he had to see this.”