"I didn't know what he was doing to me. I didn't remember."

Hawke nodded. "Understood. But my gut still tells me something's wrong, something that you're not telling me. Something that scares you."

Faith looked away, trying to hide the telltale flush she felt rise to her cheeks. How could he possibly see her so clearly?

"I'm not keeping anything from you, Hawke," she fabricated. "Not intentionally. I think the fear may be coming from my subconscious. Things he did to me that I haven't yet remembered." It was time to change the subject before he pressed, and she wound up telling him things she wasn't ready to share. "Who is he?" she whispered, nodding toward the Shaman, who walked a distance ahead of them. He looked like a young teenager.

She felt Hawke's gaze on her but kept her own straight ahead, not wanting to see the knowing look in his eyes. Not wanting him to read the secrets in her own.

"The Shaman is very old, somewhere between six and ten thousand years. I doubt even he knows."

Faith's eyes widened, her jaw dropping.

"He was attacked by Mage magic when he was a teen and never physically aged again, but he acquired a rare ability to sense that magic in others. His gift isn't foolproof, but he's good. And he's very, very kind. He's been good enough to stay in the area since this latest Mage war began. We have need of him more often than we care for, believe me."

If the Shaman could detect magic in others, could he detect the dark magic in her? She shivered, but if Hawke noticed, he didn't comment.

As they entered the house, Wulfe called out, "Pink! Xavier! We're back." To Vhyper he said, "I'll check on them, then meet you in the storeroom." Vhyper opened the door to the basement, started down, and they all followed.

"Why didn't we take Pink and Xavier with us to the enclave?" Faith asked quietly.

"They were safe here, and we can't risk anyone's seeing either of them. The human police are still searching for Xavier. And Pink . . ." He shrugged, as if that said it all. And it did. With her human-shaped face covered in pink feathers and her flamingo legs, there would be no passing Pink off as anything other than nonhuman.

They reached the prisons to find the grizzly and fox prowling their cages as impatiently as any caged beasts. But the lynx merely lay on the floor watching them. As the group approached, Grizz and Fox shifted into men in twin sprays of colored lights, Fox fully dressed, Grizz startlingly naked. Despite the size of him, there wasn't an ounce of fat anywhere. Which was more than she really needed to know.

Fox stared at them, looking thoroughly annoyed. But Grizz growled, grabbed the bars, and shook them as if he were trying to yank them out of the floor. "Let me out of here!" he roared.

Lynks closed his cat eyes, ignoring them.

Lyon and Tighe exchanged a look that said they weren't sure how to go about this. If they meant for the Shaman to go into one of those cages, Faith didn't want to be anywhere near when they opened the doors. Certainly not Grizz's, anyway.

"The Shaman is here to examine you," Lyon said, his voice loud enough to be heard over the bear shifter's fury. "If you've been infected with Mage magic, as we suspect, he has the ability to sense it. We need to know what's happened in order to help you."

To Faith's surprise - to everyone's she suspected - Grizz thrust his hand through the bars, palm up, as if asking for that help.

Lyon stepped forward without hesitation and grasped Grizz's wrist. The big Feral growled but didn't fight him. The Shaman took a step forward, hesitated, then continued forth, laying both hands on Grizz's exposed forearm. He jerked his hands back, then cautiously touched the big man's arm with one hand only. For several seconds, he stood rooted, his eyelids drifting closed. Finally, he stepped away, turning to Lyon. "He's badly infected, though I can't say for certain it's Mage magic. It could be Daemon or a combination."

"Is the animal spirit infected?" Lyon asked.

"I don't know. It's impossible to tell."

Fox stuck his hand out in the same way Grizz had, his jaw set in a hard line. "My turn."

Lyon released Grizz and repeated the move on Fox. The Shaman touched the fox shifter's arm, then motioned him closer to the bars and reached into the cage, pressing his hand to Fox's forehead. The Feral watched the Shaman warily but allowed the touch.

"Nothing." The Shaman pulled away, turning to Lyon. "Completely clean. No darkness or magic whatsoever."

Fox folded his arms, his jaw hard, his stance shouting, I told you so.

Lyon opened the door of the cage himself, then held out his arm. "No hard feelings? After what happened last night, I couldn't take a chance."

Fox stared at him for several seconds, letting Lyon's arm hang before he finally, slowly unfolded his own and grasped Lyon's forearm as Lyon grasped his.

"How are Jag and Paenther?" Fox asked.

Lyon nodded as if pleased with the question. "Stable and healing. They'll make it." Lyon turned to the third Feral. "Shift, Lynks."

The cat lifted his lids, blinking at the Chief of the Ferals lazily. Ignoring the command.

Lyon glanced at Fox. "Vhyper tells me you managed to shift your form to the size of a small horse last night. Far larger than your predecessor."

Fox shrugged, his mood still darkly angry.

"Maybe you'd like to demonstrate that to Lynks. You can do it in his cage if you'd like."

Tighe chuckled. "You can show him your teeth up close and personal."

Fox glanced at Tighe, a dangerous smile spreading across his mouth. "Bloody right."

In a quick spray of sparkling lights, Lynks shifted, then rose, fully clothed, to stare at them sullenly. He didn't look well. He looked, Faith thought, as if he'd suffered and wasn't a man used to suffering.

"Put your hand through the bars," Lyon snapped. Lynks did so slowly, and Lyon grabbed his wrist as he had the others.

The Shaman's examination went much as it had with Grizz. "Thick, dark magic. The same as the other." He released the Feral, and Lyon did the same. "It appears that the nine are clean, but the seventeen have most definitely been infected, as you believed."

Faith's stomach knotted. She wondered what would happen if she held out her hand to the Shaman, too. Would he declare her infected? She swallowed hard, watching Grizz once more shake his cage like a wild beast.

"Maybe not all the nine." Hawke released her and stepped toward the Shaman, holding out his hand as the caged Ferals had done. "Check me, Shaman."

Lyon tilted his chin in question.

"I was in that spirit trap," Hawke replied in answer to Lyon's unspoken question. "As was my hawk."

The Shaman took Hawke's wrist as he had the others. With a frown, he lifted his hand to the top of Hawke's head. "I sense no infection, but . . ." His frown deepened. "There is deep trauma within your bond with your animal, warrior."

"I know. We're working on it."

The Shaman nodded.

Lyon's brows lowered with concern. "But you don't sense that it's being caused by magic?"

"No, but I'm not sure I'd detect any magic within the spirit, only the man. If you find a cure, Hawke and Tighe should partake of it, too, just to be sure."

Lyon glanced at the two caged Ferals. "Can their magic be cleared in the usual way?"

"If it's Mage, I would assume so," the Shaman replied. "If it's Daemon, perhaps not."

Faith glanced up at Hawke as he stepped back to join her. "What's the usual way?"

Hawke lifted an eyebrow, his eyes beginning to gleam. "Sex."

Her eyes narrowed. "No, it's not."

"It is. It's during the moment of sexual release that the mind and body are the most open. With the mind opened, the body is able to expel simple magic. Most Therians know that."

"I was a little young when I was last around Therians."

"I'm not risking a woman with Grizz," Lyon said. "He's too violent."

Without warning, the huge shifter reached between his legs, grabbed his long, flaccid member, and began pumping himself.

Faith gasped, covering her mouth with her hand as her gaze slammed into Kara's. As one, they burst into shocked laughter. And just as quickly turned back to the prison. There was something incredibly . . . intriguing . . . about watching a man like that get himself off. Grizz clearly wanted to be rid of that magic. Immediately.

"I'll ask Ariana to send one of her maidens for Lynks." Kougar's calm tone made it sound as if this kind of thing happened all the time at Feral House. "It's unlikely he'll be able to hurt her even if he tries."

"I would never demand a woman - " Lyon began, but Kougar cut him off.

"The legends are true, Roar. Many Ilinas are highly sexual creatures who crave sex with corporeal males. Not all, of course. Ariana will send one who is."

Moments later, a woman appeared out of thin air, a petite dark-haired beauty in a diaphanous long green gown, her loose hair falling nearly to her waist.

"How . . . ?" Faith began.

"Kougar can communicate with Ariana over any distance," Hawke said. "It comes in handy."

"Phylicia." Kougar nodded.

The woman smiled, a seductive look on her face as her gaze tripped from male to male with eager excitement, landing on Fox. "This one? He's beautiful."

"No." Lyon motioned toward the prisons, toward Lynks, but Phylicia caught sight of Grizz, who was still pumping himself, and stuck fast.

"Warrior," she purred. Suddenly, she was no longer standing outside the cages. She was in with Grizz, pulling up her gown.

"He isn't the one, Phylicia," Kougar said evenly.

"Oh, I think he is. The perfect one." A second later, her legs were wrapped around Grizz's waist, her back against the stone wall as he thrust inside her.

As one, Faith and Kara whirled away, covering their faces.

"I'll never get used to this," Kara muttered, stepping beside her.

Faith's body was growing hotter with each slap of flesh against flesh, with each moan of pleasure. In her mind, it wasn't Grizz and the Ilina but Hawke. And her. And she wanted that, wanted him, with every tight breath she drew into her lungs.

"He's dangerous, Phylicia," Kougar said behind them. "Be aware."

"He's . . . magnificent," she replied.

Faith glanced over her shoulder, peeking at Hawke, wondering if he was as aroused . . . Her breath caught as their gazes collided, his scorching hot. He hadn't been looking at the rutting couple. He'd been watching her. In his eyes, she saw the promise of pleasure every bit as intense as that they were witnessing. And soon.

Phylicia screamed her release. Grizz roared with his own. A moment later, Phylicia stood once more outside the cage, her gown falling around her calves, her face flushed and damp, her smile radiant.

"Ah, that was good. Who's next? Who was it you'd meant me to take?"

"Me!" Lynks was standing, his hands curled around the bars of his cage.

Lyon shook his head. "Wait a moment, if you will, Phylicia. Shaman?"

Once more, Grizz thrust his hand through the bars of the cage. Once more, the Shaman examined him. "No change. The infection held fast."

With an angry growl, Grizz tore his arm from the Shaman's grasp and whirled away.

"We'll find a cure for the magic," Lyon told him. "But until we do, you'll both have to remain here. I'm sorry." He turned to the Shaman. "Has the Ilina been infected?"

A moment later, the Ilina's hand in his, the Shaman shook his head. "She's fine."

Lyon gave her a nod. "Thank you, Phylicia. We need nothing more from you."

The Ilina smiled. "Call me anytime." And she was gone.

"Hey!" Lynks cried.

"Jack off," Grizz snarled.

"I'll not endanger any female unnecessarily." Lyon reached for Kara's hand and started down the passage that led out of the prisons.

Hawke took Faith's hand, and they followed.

"That was . . ." She didn't have words.

"Moving?"

"Yes," she replied huskily. She glanced up at him. Their gazes collided, heat leaping between them. Desperately, she wanted to be in his arms, in his bed, yet she didn't dare let him make love to her. Certainly not in daylight. Unless he was the kind of guy who went at the deed without any additional exploration, he was too likely to see her feral marks. Or feel them. No, she couldn't let him make love to her, no matter how badly she wanted him to.

She turned away, heart pounding, and struggled to change the subject. "Why is Fox different?" she asked as they passed through the gym. "And what are the nine? I'm confused."

Hawke's thumb stroked the back of her hand, a faint tremor in his own that told her how badly he wanted her. "After the seventeen warriors and their animal spirits were lost in the spirit trap six hundred years ago, there were nine Feral Warriors left. The nine. One of them, the previous fox shifter, died a few months ago."

Faith nodded. "So his is the animal who marked Fox, not one of the seventeen from the trap. Which is why there's no dark magic attached to him."

"Correct. The nine are magic-free and are the men chosen by our animals - presumably the strongest of our lines. Those marked by the seventeen lost animal spirits appear to be infected. According to what you were told, and what we've seen, they're not the ones meant to be marked. Not the strongest of their lines."