We headed for the elevator before anybody saw us. When we stepped out onto the fourth floor, room 422 was right around the corner. I listened at the door. No sound. After a moment, I stood back and nodded. Camil e moved in, slid the card in the lock, and it clicked. As she opened the door, she pul ed to the side, and I pushed through first, slamming my hand against the light switch.

Light flooded the room, but it was empty. Camil e peeked in the bathroom, then relaxed and shut the door.

"Nobody here."

"Maybe not now, but someone was." I opened the dresser and checked the drawers. Scattered tops, a couple pregnancy skirts, some underwear . . .

Amber had been here, al right. "Check the closet. Suitcase?"

Camil e pushed open the flimsy folding door that covered the closet. "Suitcase, check, and two pairs of shoes. Also, one coat."

I frowned. It was far too chil y for someone from Arizona to wander around Seattle without her coat in late October. Especial y if she was pregnant. "Do you see her purse anywhere?"

"Here it is, behind the bed, near the wal . How odd," Camil e said. "No woman tosses her purse on the floor behind her bed."

She handed it to me, and I sorted through it. "Her ID is here, her driver's license, medication--she's on something . . . probably for her pregnancy. Let me see . . . wal et is empty, but credit cards are stil there." I looked over at her where she sat on the bed and added, "This doesn't look good."

She paused, then cocked her head. "I get a real y strange energy from this room, Kitten. Al tingly with magic--but I can't identify it."

I couldn't pick up energy the way my sister could, but I had the same feeling, and it stemmed purely from my gut. "Where's it coming from?"

Camil e closed her eyes and held out her hands. "The . . . minibar? How odd." As she knelt to open the door to the miniature refrigerator, a loud pop sounded, and a cloud of something wafted through the room.

"What the fuck?" Camil e jumped back, choking so hard I thought she was going to cough her lungs out. "I . . . dizzy . . ." She reached for the dresser to steady herself and then crumpled to the ground.

"Camil e!" I hurried over to her side, but the minute I got near, my eyes began to water, and I couldn't focus on what I was about to do. Magic. It had to be some sort of magic from whatever had come blowing out of that minibar.

I stumbled away and leaned on the bed, breathing deeply, shaking my head. After a moment, the fog began to dissipate, and I opened the window, trying to get it to disperse, then grabbed my cel phone.

Glancing over at Camil e, who was stil stretched out on the floor, comatose, I quickly punched in the number for the FH-CSI, then the extension for Sharah. She was on the line almost immediately--must be a slow day--and I told her what had happened and gave the address.

"Please keep breathing, please . . ." I could see the gentle rise and fal of my sister's breast, reassuring me that at least she was alive. Whatever hit her seemed to be clearing out on the currents of fresh, cold air, but I didn't dare chance getting near her again, of both of us hitting the deck.

Ten minutes later, a discreet knock on the door sounded. It was Sharah. She must have busted ass to get there.

"It's Camil e," I said, pointing to her prone figure. "She opened the minibar, something went poof, and she went down. When I went in to get her, she was out like a light, and I started to get so disoriented I couldn't stay near her."

Sharah nodded and put on a simple gas mask, then crept over to Camil e and pul ed her out of the area, dragging her to the bed, where I helped lift her onto the sheets. Sharah checked her over quickly.

"She seems okay. If she doesn't wake up by the time I'm done here, we'l take her back to the hospital." She headed over to the minibar. Gingerly, she peeked inside. "Magical trap, al right, timed to go off when the door opened." She touched it gingerly with gloved hands. "Hard to tel what this is for. I think we'd better take Camil e and go back to headquarters while I dissect this."

While she finished detaching the trap from where it had been connected to the cabinet, I scoured the rest of the room but found nothing. While waiting for her to finish, I ran down what we were doing here.

"I'm wondering--werewolves don't deal with magic much, so what the hel was Rice doing with a magical trap?"

Sharah nodded slowly. "You're right. Lycanthropes, above al Weres, detest magic and don't like being around it. If he's like a typical werewolf, her husband wouldn't use a magical trap unless he was forced. We'd better get this back to HQ and analyze it. And Camil e seems no closer to coming around. That concerns me." She flipped open her cel phone and quietly spoke into it for a moment. "Shamas wil be here in a moment with a stretcher."

For the first time since she'd passed out, I began to real y worry. "You think she'l come around, don't you?"

"I'm sure she'l be okay. We just have to find out what this crap is."

"Hel ." I sank on the bed next to Camil e and clasped one of her hands. She was cold--not death-cold, but cold. Silently, I gathered a blanket and spread it over her. After a moment, I looked up to find Sharah watching me.

"Chase told me you guys broke up last night. Are you okay?" She blushed. "I don't mean to pry, but he was so quiet this morning that I was worried."

Stung by the fact that she was the one getting to watch over him, I let out a short huff. "Yeah, I'm just dandy. I guess this is one of the perks of being a soldier on the front line. Life changes in an instant. And even when you save the day, you sometimes lose the battle. Save his life and lose him . . . don't save his life and lose him. Either way, I lose."

Sharah winced. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. He loves you, I know he does, but remember: His entire life has been thrown into a tailspin, and being mortal--"

"Not so mortal now, as he reminded me last night. Listen, I appreciate the pep talk, but right now it's the last thing I need. I accept that he can't handle a relationship, but I expect him to realize that he's not the only one affected by this. We saved his life. He was going to go through the transformation anyway.

Suddenly, he can't wait to get away from me."

She laid a gentle hand on my shoulder. "The last I'l say on the matter: It's not just you he can't wait to get away from. He's trying to get away from his own thoughts. Just remember when you were a child and felt like you didn't belong--"

I jumped up. "You leave my childhood out of this." Sharah might be Queen Asteria's niece, but that didn't give her the right to intrude on my sorrow. At her bewildered look, I stopped, aware of my misplaced anger. I wasn't mad at her. I was angry at the situation. "I'm so sorry, Sharah. I'm just a wreck right now. Where the fuck is Shamas?"

Blinking, she cleared her throat. "He'l be here in a moment. Um . . . can I ask what happened to your hair? I like it."

She meant it; that much I could tel . And she was trying to calm me down, which rankled, but I decided to take the high road: something I didn't always do. I forced a smile to my lips. "Thanks, it was a gift from a skunk. Indirectly."

"Wel , it's shocking, but I think it suits you."

Just then Shamas knocked on the door. The clerk was behind him, and I took him to the side and reassured him that everything would be fine while Sharah and Shamas loaded Camil e onto the stretcher. By the time we were ready to rumble, the clerk had offered me a free night, if I came in later. I had the feeling he was hoping to be included in that stay, so I politely declined.

We headed to the parking lot, where we lifted the stretcher into the medic unit. As I stared at the closing doors, it hit me that Camil e might real y be in trouble. A bubble of tears caught in my throat, and I swung into my Jeep and started the engine. If this was how the Samhain season was starting, I wasn't sure I wanted to see any more of it.

At the FH-CSI, of course I ran into Chase first thing. It couldn't happen any other way, with my luck. He stood beside me as Sharah wheeled Camil e into one of the examining rooms and put his arm around my shoulders. I wanted to lean into his embrace so badly it hurt, but I kept myself upright. No more relying on him, blood brother or not. It was time I stood on my own two feet.

"She'l be okay. Trust me," he whispered.

"Yeah. Wel , I don't know what you're offering for a guarantee, but I sure as hel hope you're right." I told him what happened.

"So Amber's been missing--"

"About twenty-four hours or so now. Luke is frantic, and things aren't looking good." I crossed my arms and stared at the doors that were closed on my sister. "If there was one magical trap, there were probably others that we didn't find. One could have knocked out Amber like it did Camil e."

Chase jotted down a few notes. "While it's not SOP to process a missing person report on a Supe for forty-eight hours, I'l have Shamas get on this today."

Tired and heart sore, I flashed him a soft smile. "Thanks. That's the best news I've had in ages." I sucked in a deep breath and stared at the door to Camil e's room, waiting for some news--any news.

"Come on, I'l buy you a glass of milk." Chase motioned toward the lunchroom.

I pressed my lips together and shook my head. "I want to wait here--"

"It could be awhile. Come on. Remember--we're . . . buddies?"

That stung. It stung hard and deep, even though I knew he didn't mean it to. He was trying, in his own clumsy way, to comfort me. We headed toward the lunchroom, where he plugged a dol ar in the vending machine and handed me a carton of milk. Another dol ar, and he handed me a package of Cheetos.

We sat at one of the tables. The room was comfortable; Chase made sure his employees felt at home, that was for sure. A cot in the corner offered a place for a quick nap in case one of the officers was required to stick around on cal .

Chase opened the refrigerator and pul ed out a sack lunch. I watched as he emptied it on the table in front of him. Bologna sandwich, pudding cup, an apple . . . He bit into the sandwich while I munched on the Cheetos. He'd been right--my stomach rumbled, and I realized I was starving.

"You think she'l be okay?" I final y managed to ask.

"You know Sharah can work wonders. Camil e wil be fine. I know it," he said, but he didn't sound so sure. He pul ed out his notebook. "Let me make certain I have al the details right before I send Shamas out hunting for . . . Amber, is it? Amber Johanson?"

I nodded and ran through the events again. After I finished, Chase stared at the page, then nodded. "Let me get this over to his desk right now--and let me get a photocopy of that picture. I'l be back in a moment." As he stood up, Sharah entered the room.

"Delilah, you can come with me now. Camil e's going to be okay, though she's stil a little out of it."

Chase touched me lightly on the arm. "I'l meet you in there."

Sharah led me back to the medical unit and through the doors leading to the ER. Along the way, she shook her head. "She's awake, but the spel wreaked havoc with her magical senses. She should be okay, but that was one heck of a jolt she got."

"What the hel was it? Do you know yet? Even getting near the residue made me dizzy."

Camil e was sitting, propped up in a bed, and Sharah was right; she looked out of it. She was breathing rapidly and shivering even under the blanket, and her eyes were darker and narrowed, like those of a frightened cat's.

Chase came through the doors and handed me back the photo. He took one look at Camil e and said, "Crap," as he pushed past us and strode over to her. "I've seen you take some nasty bumps, but I've never seen you look like this."

Sharah slid onto a stool and flipped open the chart. "That's because she was so disoriented, she couldn't even open her eyes until a few minutes ago.

Once we figured out what was wrong, we gave her a drug to counter the effects of the magic. Apparently she was conscious the entire time. Camil e--try to say something now."

"I . . . I . . . wh-wh-what the fuck happ--. . . happened?" Her teeth were chattering, as if she was freezing.

"What did happen? I know whatever it was almost knocked me for a loop when I started over to see if she was okay." I frowned, hoping that whatever it was wouldn't have any long-term effects.

"One of our techs figured out the trap. Think ecstasy or roofies, only magical. Geared toward werewolves in specific. Though any Were wil react to it,"

Sharah added, looking at me. "Which is why you felt so disoriented even near the remains."

I mul ed this over. "If I was a werewolf . . ."

She nodded slowly. "If you were a werewolf, you would have been done in by a mere whiff. Camil e reacted the way she did because, although she's not a Were, she's a witch, and her magic is incompatible with the effects of this magic. But a werewolf like your friend Amber . . . she'd be immediately pliable and under control if she caught a whiff or two of this crap."

"Wel , hel ." I frowned. "Who created this spel ? Could a werewolf have done it? Or, I guess the question is, would a werewolf have done it?"

Sharah's lips tightened. She motioned to Chase to shut the door. After he'd done so, she flipped through her notes. "A werewolf would have to be a sociopath to do something like this. Seriously. The ingredients that make up that spel compound--the gas that burst out--contain some heavy-duty dark magic. And not like Camil e's death magic, not dark in that way. We're talking sorcery here."