“What does your womanly intuition say?” She rose from her spot in the floor until she was floating once more, closer to my height than her true five foot nothing.

“Eammon,” I said his name and knew it was true. Of all the mentors, I trusted him. He didn’t know Sarge had attacked Luke. Even if he was pissy about Crash. Even if he thought I was trouble, he was honest. That was worth trusting.

“Then find him. Take him with you. I think whoever took your bigfoot will be far more difficult to deal with than you can handle on your own.”

I raised a brow at her. “You just told me I should own myself.”

“I also told you not to be a fool.” Her eye crinkled nearly shut as she grinned at me. “Go on.”

“I’m going to get this house,” I said with as much conviction as I could muster. “I’m not losing you now. Not again.”

She shook her head. “One thing at a time, honey child. One thing at a time.”

And that first thing was getting to Eammon and forcing him to help me.

22

Eammon was not as easy to reach as I would have hoped. My phone was dead again, the power had been turned off in Gran’s house, and the closest little restaurant café was packed with people. They apparently thought that the fried chicken here was legit, but I’d heard rumors of it being made out of house.

“Damn tourists,” I muttered. But maybe this could work in my favor.

I got in line behind the other tourists. I tapped the shoulder of the man in front of me. He and his wife were holding hands, and they turned around as a unit.

“Would you mind if I borrowed your phone? The call is local, and my phone died.” I put my hands together, literally begging. The woman sighed and nodded.

“Of course. These phones don’t last anymore, do they?”

I agreed as she handed me her very slick phone that was twice the size of mine. I stared at it. “How do I turn it on?”

“Oh, just like this.” She turned the phone toward her, and it beeped. “Facial recognition.”

“Wow, cool.” Truthfully, it seemed like more of a pain in the ass to me, but what did I know? I tapped in Eammon’s number and thanks be to the stars above he answered.

“Who is this?” he growled.

The couple’s faces dimmed in their willingness to help. Apparently, the volume was louder than I realized. “Hey, Eammon. It’s me. I’m at the Chicken Shack on Bull Street. The one near the CVS,” I looked over at the pharmacy as I spoke, “I need a ride. I’ll even get you some chicken if you can get here in like ten minutes.”

“I’m not coming to—”

“Eric is not going to make it past tonight . . .” Their eyes widened and I cleared my throat. “If he doesn’t study for his exams. We have to help him, darling.”

He coughed. “Fine. I’ll be there in ten. I’ll bring Sarge.”

I cringed. “Don’t. Bother, I mean. Don’t bother him.”

His breathing changed, and then he hung up. I handed the borrowed phone back to the couple. “Thanks, we’ve been having real problems with our teenager. Especially since the divorce.”

They nodded knowingly and I backed out of the line, made my way to the corner of the intersection that the Chicken Shack sat on, and waited impatiently for Eammon to show up. He didn’t. And that was a problem.

Sarge did, and a spill of anxiety spiked through me as he rolled up. I stared at him, knowing that he’d been the one to hurt Luke, but not sure anyone would believe me. “Where is Eammon?”

“He’s an old man, too lazy to come get you himself,” he muttered. “Come on, he’s back at the Hollows.”

I didn’t want to get on with him. But I needed a ride.

Old age and treachery, here I come.

I cleared my throat. “Look, I promised him some chicken, and I’m just waiting for my number to be called. Let me go get it.” I turned my back on him and hurried toward the Chicken Shack, limping in a way that required no acting skills. I stopped and rubbed at my lower back. “Sarge, I’m so sore. Will you go in and get it? It’s under my name.” I dug in my purse and found an old receipt for something I’d purchased a week ago.

He sighed. “Yeah, sure, but only if I can get a bite of the chicken too.” He grinned at me, and I winked up at him. Damn, I still wanted to like him, to believe that he was a good guy.

“You can have all the chicken you want,” I said.

Whistling, he strode toward the line and then pushed his way into the door.

Now came the fun part. I’d ridden a few bikes in my life, so I knew the logistics of getting one going. But this was a big bike, meant for a big man.

And I was about to steal it.

I straddled the bike, pushed my bag over my hip, and started the engine. It let out a satisfying rumble, and I carefully released the clutch and turned the throttle.

The bike shot forward and I squeaked as I got my balance—barely—and shot down the street. I had no doubt that Sarge would be running after me in a matter of seconds. Which was why I ran three stop signs—telling myself it wasn’t because I couldn’t stop, but because I was in a hurry and didn’t want Sarge to catch up to me. I drove as fast as I dared, not worrying about anything but getting to the Hollows as quickly as possible.

Eammon, I had to get to Eammon. I had to believe he would help me once I explained everything.

Twenty of the most harrowing minutes of my life later, I pulled into the graveyard, shooting down the path that I’d left not all that long ago.

I didn’t know how to stop the bike, so I let the throttle off and it coasted until I couldn’t hold it up anymore. Rolling off to avoid being crushed, I went spinning across the grass and landed against a large tombstone with a thump.

“Sorry,” I mumbled as I pushed to my feet, groaning, cursing my aching body. The Advil wasn’t keeping up with me. I was only a short distance from the Hollows tomb and the weeping angel when a howl cut through the air.

I spun to see Sarge running toward me in wolf form, teeth bared, ears pinned back.

My gran told me to trust myself, to trust the power in me as a woman who had seen a few sunrises. I breathed through the sudden fear and reached for one of my knives.

“Bad dog!” I yelled as I pulled the turquoise-handled knife from its sheath, flipped it in the air, caught it tip-side up, and threw it at the oncoming werewolf. I wanted to stop him, but not kill him.

The blade sunk into his left pectoral, and he let out a moan, stumbled, and fell to his side. I didn’t go to him. I should have maybe to make sure he was breathing, but I heard yelling from inside the Hollows.

I hurried down the steps. “Hurry up!” Corb yelled. “Sarge, I can’t hold them!”

The last few steps flew as I leapt down them—forgetting my age for just a second. I landed in a crouch that made me clench my teeth and bones scream at me that I was being an idiot. What the hell had I been thinking to jump even three steps? The reverberation of my landing kept me in that crouch for long enough to see Corb on his feet—barely. Eammon, Tom, Louis, and Luke had been tied with their hands and feet behind their backs, faces on the floor, blindfolds on and gags in their mouths.

Corb faced off against Darvin.

The one who’d been trying to pin something on Crash.

“Corb!” I yelled his name.

“Help me out here, Bree!” he grunted out as he took a blow from Darvin. Only it wasn’t a blow, it was like a push of power erupted from Darvin’s fingers as he flexed them at Corb.

Corb stumbled back a few steps and shook it off and pulled a gun. His finger tightened on the trigger, but the gun exploded in his hands.

I pulled my knife and thought about throwing it.

But I wasn’t that stupid.

I ran—okay, hobbled—to Eammon and yanked his blindfold off and cut his gag.

“Stop him!” Eammon breathed out.

“Which one?” Because I suspected I already knew, no matter that it was about to kill some of my favorite shower fantasies. If Corb and Sarge were friends, and Sarge was trying to stop me, and Corb was leaving the fellow mentors tied up, it could only mean one thing.

He’d been fooling more than me all along.

“Corb. Stop him!” Eammon yelled.

That’s what I’d feared. I spun on my knees before I could change my mind and threw my knife. End over end it flashed, burrowing itself into the back of his right shoulder. He bellowed and went down, and Darvin was on him in a flash, taking the last of his weapons from him.

I didn’t watch as Corb went to the ground, bound with what looked like glowing rope. I scooped up a fallen knife and cut Tom, Louis, and Luke free. Luke whimpered but didn’t open his eyes.

“Stay away from him.” Louis pulled me back. “He is going through the change.”

“Because Sarge attacked him and hurt the others, didn’t he?” I said. My suspicion was that Sarge didn’t really want to hurt anyone badly, but he needed us all out of his way.

Eammon hobbled up next to me. “How did you figure it out?”

I shrugged. “It was a good guess. The bites on Luke were pretty obvious if you’d really been looking.”

Eammon flushed and I went on. “But when you said you would bring Sarge to pick me up, I . . . I knew something was wrong. You were too angry with me to have an audience when you saw me next.”

Eammon looked up at me, slowly shaking his head. “You saved us, lass. We owe you.”

Darvin sniffed inside his hooded cloak. “I could have taken him down on my own had I needed to.”

I looked at him and sniffed right back. “Doubtful, little boy. I, a novice, nearly took your head earlier today, if you’ll recall.”

Eammon slid an arm around my waist, and I dropped an answering arm across his shoulders. “Go easy on Darv, he’s new to the council. Eager, but young.”

And stupid. Though I didn’t say that out loud. Look at me, showing restraint.