Their body language shifted; they turned away from me, lowered their gazes—not showing submission, but not offering a challenge. Giving me room.

I slowed. We have to run …

Not yet, not when they were between us and the door. Finally, I stopped. “How the hell do you deal with all the silver?”

It had started to feel like bugs crawling on my skin. I kept looking over my shoulder and checking myself for open wounds. I couldn’t tell what was paranoia and what I ought to be truly worried about.

The man said, “Most of the silver here isn’t pure. It’s ore, at a low purity, or it would have been taken out decades ago. The rock here won’t hurt you, unless you eat it or rub it into an open wound.”

Somehow, this was less comforting than it should have been. “I can still feel it.”

“You just have to ignore it,” he said.

So not helpful. “But why? Why put yourselves through this?” Why put me through this …

“Protection,” he said. “It’s a magical defense.”

Against what? Was that supposed to make me feel better? My questions were starting to turn circular. “Okay. Fine. But what about … what did you do to Tom?” Their confused expressions made my stomach drop. “The other werewolf who was with me. My packmate, Tom.”

The woman got it first and nodded. “We left him behind. We didn’t hurt him, he’s fine.”

I wasn’t sure I believed her, but what choice did I have? “Okay. Now, explain the rest of it. What’s going on here?”

They glanced at each other, a secret communication between two people on very familiar terms. They were together, I didn’t have a doubt. That line about dogs and cats living together surfaced again, briefly. They made their silent bargain, drew their mental straws. The werewolf was the one who spoke.

“There’s a great evil, a powerful adversary—”

“Let me guess: the vampire Gaius Albinus, known as Dux Bellorum or Roman.”

He only showed the mildest shock. I’d already announced that I knew of the ambitious, globe-trotting vampire. He probably wouldn’t believe how much I knew.

“Yes.”

“And what does that vampire—Kumarbis—have to do with Dux Bellorum? What does any of this have to do with him? What’s going on here?” I bet I could ask that question a hundred times and never get a straight answer.

The werewolf drew a breath and spoke slowly, as if searching for words. As if he’d never really had to explain this before. “Kumarbis has the knowledge to destroy Dux Bellorum. Zora has the power, the spell. But she needs five people to work her magic—the right five.”

The right people, representing different aspects of the supernatural. I’d spent enough time around this sort of thing that it almost made sense.

I chuckled; it was the only way I had to insult them. “You’re probably thinking I should be flattered. You’ve kidnapped me, humiliated me, but it’s to save the world so of course it’s all right.”

He raised his hand in a calming gesture and shook his head. Was he actually blushing? Embarrassed? “I wouldn’t ask you to think that this is all right. I only ask for your understanding—”

My voice shook with anger. “This is not how you go about earning someone’s understanding.”

The were-lion jumped in. “Kumarbis believes if you know too much before the time of the ritual, your mind will close. You won’t become a true avatar. You must let the spirit of your predecessor fill you. You can’t force it.”

“Avatar, what do you mean, avatar?”

“We’re more than just the right people,” the man said. “We’re avatars—representatives of the divine. That’s why Kumarbis needs us. It has to be us, the five of us, and no one else.”

Avatars of the divine, figures from very ancient stories. There was a kind of power in that, I supposed. Symbolic, if nothing else. This all felt like a terrible joke.

“Do you really believe that?” I asked. “You can’t believe it, or you wouldn’t be here explaining it to me. Apologizing to me.” Because that was what they were doing, essentially.

They didn’t answer.

If I was behind the microphone at my studio, and I’d gotten a call during the show explaining this in as serious a tone—I wasn’t sure how I’d respond. It would depend on my mood. I might have humored him, picked at his explanation, pounced on details, encouraged him to dig himself deeper. I might have mocked him outright and then hung up on him. I might have just felt sorry for him.

I wanted to pretend like I was hosting my show, so I could rake them over the coals of my sarcasm. But for all the time I’d spent unconscious over the last day or so, I was too tired. Not to mention my life was pretty much in their hands. Best not make them too angry.

I sighed. “Can you at least tell me your names?”

The werewolf nodded. “I am Enkidu. She is Sakhmet.”

Oh, give me a … “That’s what he called you—those aren’t really your names.”

“They are now,” he said. “We are their avatars. We speak for them.”

“And you are Regina Luporum,” said the were-lion.

“I’m Kitty,” I said. “I will always be Kitty. Katherine Norville, Kitty.”

“Kumarbis is hoping to convince you otherwise.” His tone didn’t invite doubt that Kumarbis would succeed.

“Kumarbis—is that his name, or is he supposed to be an avatar, too? I’ve never even heard of any Kumarbis—”

The werewolf hurried to explain. “Kumarbis is a god of the Hittites, a father-god, a source of power.”

“I don’t believe this,” I muttered. “This is crazy.”

“It isn’t all crazy,” said the werewolf, Enkidu. “I believe that Dux Bellorum is evil and means the world ill. And I believe Kumarbis and Zora have the power to defeat him, and that they need us to do so. Does anything else matter?”

A million other things mattered, but I was at a loss for words. I didn’t know how to argue his beliefs, his dogma.

“Truly, we mean you no harm. Please believe that,” said the woman. Sakhmet, I supposed I had to call her.

I curled my lip and growled.

“We’ll let you rest now,” she added. Her partner nodded, and together they turned back to the doorway. Too late, I realized this was my chance, and it was vanishing. I ran, head down and legs working, carrying me across the room and to the door in seconds. But they were lycanthropes, too, and they were ready. And not drugged, sleep deprived, dehydrated, and nervous. They slipped out and shut the door behind them, just as I crashed into it.