Once he made the decision to seek discreet, non-pack help, Chase didn’t waste any time. The guys clamored to come with him, but fear for Tanner infused Chase’s backbone with steel. With a telling glance at the backyard, he appointed Dakota in charge and gave them the task of filling in all the holes.

“Because I’m calling Dr. MacLeod today to get back on his schedule, and you really don’t want him to see that, do you?”

So, not quite an hour after discovering Tanner’s disappearance, Chase stood on the sidewalk in front of Quest Investigations alone. He caught his reflection in the glass doors— Gods, I look younger than Jordan.

Well, that’s what bone-deep terror and remorse would do to you. The way weres aged, Chase would keep maturing until he hit about thirty or thirty-five, then look pretty much the same for the next century or so. He wished for a little of that gravitas now. Would the fae who ran Quest Investigations take him seriously? One of them was a prince, for Remus’s sake, and the other one . . . Well, the other one was Mal, who at least knew Chase as somebody with marginal authority.

I’ve never lied to him before though. Could Chase manage it? Lying wasn’t something that came easily to him—for one thing, there wasn’t much point. Eventually people found out the truth, and then they were pissed as well as hurt or disgusted.

But some instinct—or maybe it was just guilt—warned him to keep Tanner’s disappearance under the were radar, especially from Tanner’s pack. Time enough to tell them when I—when we find Tanner and listen to his explanation. So Chase smoothed the front of his jacket. Straightened his lapels. Brushed the hair off his forehead. Tried to at least pretend he had the right to act on Tanner’s behalf.

Quest Investigations didn’t look intimidating from the street. Nothing more than a glass-doored vestibule tucked between a falafel restaurant—not mentioning that to Hector—and a New Age bookstore that appeared no different than any other trendy, slightly pretentious Pearl District shop, but was actually run by a witches’ collective, the same one who’d run a supe matchmaking agency until recently. There’d been some kind of fuss and scandal about it during Chase’s suspension, but he’d been too busy brooding to pay much attention.

Flanked by the aroma of falafel on one side and a whiff of sage smoke on the other, he pushed open the door. The faint tingle as he crossed the threshold reassured him somewhat: he was in the right place, and the company took their security seriously. Good. But then, Mal Kendrick was a Sidhe lord, formerly the official enforcer for the Queen of Faerie—and he was engaged to Dr. MacLeod. Quest had resources that Chase couldn’t hope for on his own.

I only hope they’re enough.

He mounted a flight of stairs and entered the Quest Investigations reception lobby—another, stronger tingle here—and it looked . . . like a dentist’s office. Well, a dentist’s office decorated by somebody who’d borrowed their color palette directly from nature: moss green carpet, comfy chairs in brown brocade, stone-colored walls, and a pale-blue ceiling.

The room wasn’t empty. A man with curly dark hair and hipster glasses sat behind a wide desk. When he glanced up from his computer monitor, the glint of a spell on his lenses jogged Chase’s memory.

Demon. Oh, right.

While Chase had been checked out feeling sorry for himself, rebelling by reading psychology texts instead of law books, a revolution had occurred that shook loose some of the last chains binding supes to their traditional environments.

A tiny seed of hope sprouted under Chase’s heart. If demons were no longer relegated to the depths of Sheol, if they were allowed to seek new opportunities outside the reasons they’d been spawned, maybe shaking up pack expectations wasn’t so outrageous after all.

The demon smiled at him. “Good morning. Welcome to Quest Investigations. I’m Zeke. May I—” His dark eyes widened, gold sparking in their depths. “Oh, my stars,” he murmured, then stood up. “Please come with me.”

Chase blinked. “Don’t you, um, need to know what I want first?”

Zeke ducked his head and peered at Chase from under his curls. “I already know. Sorry.” He shrugged. “It’s a demon thing. But it does save a lot of intake time.” He gestured for Chase to follow him up a second set of stairs. “You’ve arrived at the perfect moment. Both our investigators are here, so—” His steps faltered. “Oh. I nearly forgot. One of them, His Royal Highness Niall O’Tierney, will be leaving shortly, and the other, Lord Maldwyn Kendrick, hasn’t been taking any cases recently for . . . personal reasons, but I’m sure we can work something out.”

“I, um, already know Mal.”

“You do?” Zeke grinned. “Then there’s no need for me to be so formal, is there?”

“Well, I’ve never met a prince before.” Chase glanced sidelong at Zeke, who didn’t seem any older than Jordan. “Or a demon, for that matter.”

Zeke paused, one step up from Chase, which put him at Chase’s eye level. “Does that bother you? I know some supes—you’re a were, right?—are still a little uncomfortable with the Infernal Host being allowed in the Upper World without Angelic Host supervision.”

“You’re all part of the same Host now, though, right?”

Zeke beamed at him. “Exactly! This way, please.”

Chase followed Zeke down a curved hallway—really, how did such an obviously rectilinear building end up with curved hallways?—toward the sound of muted conversation.

When Zeke paused in an open doorway, the voices stilled. “Excuse me, gentlemen, but we have a client.” He stood aside and gestured for Chase to enter.

Chase edged into the room—way to exude maturity and confidence. But although he told himself sternly to straighten up and behave like an alpha, it was really hard to do. One high fae was intimidating enough, but two at once? He was used to Mal’s perfection—the near-black hair, the cobalt eyes—but the other man was just as extra, although his hair was a lighter brown and his eyes dark. They’re both so . . . beautiful. And something about them—maybe it was the glint in their eyes—marked them as brothers under the skin.

But it wasn’t the two fae lords who caused Chase’s jaw to sag. No, that would be because of the third man in the office—average height, a little soft around the middle, medium brown hair, medium brown eyes. Yes, everything about him was ordinary.

Except he was human.

What the hells? Is this legal?

Mal, who’d been sitting on the edge of an enormous oak desk, stood up and grinned. “Chase!” His grin faded. “What’s wrong?”

“He wants to find the man he loves,” Zeke said.

Chase jolted. “I never said—”

Mal chuckled. “I thought you were out of the matchmaking business, Zeke.”

Red splotches bloomed on Zeke’s fair skin. “I don’t mean he wants to find somebody to love. He already knows who that is. He simply needs to locate him.” Zeke glanced at Chase. “Isn’t that right?”

“Um . . .” Chase’s shirt collar was suddenly too tight. “Love is— I don’t know—”

Zeke patted his arm kindly. “Love comes in many guises. But you do care for the man you’re seeking, don’t you?”

“Yeah. I do.” Chase straightened his shoulders. Maybe maturity meant finally admitting who you cared enough about to protect. If that was love, then maybe it was time to admit it to himself. And to Tanner, once we find him. And we will find him.

“Chase, this is my business partner and almost brother-in-law—assuming he’ll ever pop the question and make my brother an honest man—Niall O’Tierney. Niall, Chase Denney, the RA of Howling Residence Seven, aka the Doghouse.”

Niall circled the desk to shake Chase’s hand. “A pleasure. Mal has told me stories about some of the juniors in your charge. You’ve definitely got your hands full.” He flashed a near-blinding grin. “Although he says you do an outstanding job with them.”

“Th-thanks.”

Mal slapped the human man on the back. “And this is Ma— Hugh, our surveillance guy. He’s not a supe.” Mal slapped Hugh again, and Hugh rolled his eyes. “But we don’t hold it against him.”

“Don’t mind him,” Hugh said, shaking Chase’s hand. “He thinks he’s funny.”

“I am funny. I’m a bloody riot. But this is not about me.” Mal gestured to a conversational grouping in the corner—sofa, loveseat, and two armchairs, arranged around a glass-topped coffee table with a gnarled wooden base that looked as if it were growing out of the floor. “Have a seat.”

Chase perched on the edge of one of the armchairs, Mal across from him in the center of the loveseat. Niall took the other chair while Zeke and Hugh sat on either end of the sofa. “On November twenty-third, I took the guys to the Bullpen for Tanner’s twenty-oner party.” Chase blinked, remembering the one other significant event that evening that didn’t involve a massive failure on his part. “You, um, were there that night too.”

Mal grinned and his eyes got a faraway look. “I was indeed.”

Niall groaned. “Don’t start rhapsodizing about your fiancé, Maldwyn. We’ve all heard it before.”

“Shut it, O’Tierney,” Mal said affably. “Besides, don’t you and Zeke need to get your arses in gear? If you miss the band’s warm-up, both your boyfriends will blame you if their concert tanks.”

“Oh!” Zeke leaped up from the sofa. “That’s right. With the time difference, I forgot.” He smiled apologetically at Chase. “We never miss a Hunter’s Moon concert. My boyfriend is the drummer—”

“Hamish?”

Zeke beamed. “Yes. Do you know him?”

“He was very kind to me and my charges once when he didn’t have to get involved at all.”

It was Zeke’s turn for a faraway look. “That sounds exactly like him.”

“And my brother—” Mal paused, raising his hands, and when he nodded and swept them through the air like a conductor, Zeke and Hugh both joined him to chant “—the last true bard of Faerie, can throw an epic diva fit if Niall isn’t there to hold his hand.”

“Gareth isn’t a diva. He’s sensitive. An artist.” Niall ignored Mal’s snort and glanced at a camelback clock on the bookshelf opposite the door. “But . . .” His gaze, dark and intense, slid from the clock to Chase to Mal. “. . . you’d better go on alone, Zeke. Tell Gareth I’m sorry, but I’ve got a case.”

Zeke’s eyes widened. “You’re going to miss a concert? You’ve never missed a concert.”

“I think a missing supe takes precedence over one concert of many. He’ll understand.”

“Now just a bloody minute.” Mal jabbed a finger at Niall. “Have you forgotten that we’re partners?”

“Yes, but have you forgotten you’re getting married in less than two weeks and I promised your fiancé I’d keep you out of the field?”

Mal winced. “Ah, bollocks.” Then his gaze landed on Chase, and he puffed out his chest. “But this one’s personal, mate, for Bryce and me both. In fact, he’d probably cancel the wedding and boot me to the curb if I didn’t take it. So bugger off.”

Niall hesitated, but must have read the determination in the set of Mal’s jaw—and alpha potential or not, Chase certainly wouldn’t want to challenge it—because he jerked a nod. “Right, then. Let’s go, Zeke. We don’t want to miss the sound check, and if we run into traffic, things could get tight.”

“Yeah,” Hugh said. “I hear New York traffic can be a bitch.”

“Not the New York traffic. The traffic in Faerie. Since my brother started up the FTA, the ceilidh glade is one of the main thoroughfares, and it’s worse than Times Square on New Year’s Eve.” Zeke raised both eyebrows, and Niall chuckled. “All right. Not quite that bad, but we don’t have time to dodge surly duergar and self-important naiads today.”

Mal made shooing motions with both hands. “You two go ahead. Hugh and I can handle this one. We’ll brief you later if we need your help.” Mal waited for Zeke and Niall to leave, then turned to Chase. “I take it something’s happened to Tanner.”

Chase jerked. “How did you—”

“Boyo, it didn’t take an oracle to see how you two felt about each other.” Mal leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “It’s commendable that you held off while he was your charge.”

“Maybe not all that commendable,” Chase muttered.

“Give yourself some credit. If it had been me before I met Bryce? It would never have occurred to me to resist.”

Hugh held his hands up in a T. “Time-out. Can we backtrack and fill me in?” He grimaced at Chase. “I’m still learning all this supe stuff.”

“Yeah, I, um . . .” Chase cleared his throat. Why didn’t they have etiquette rules to cover this? “Is that . . . allowed?”

“You mean because I’m human?” Hugh grinned wryly. “Yeah, it’s totally legit—the supe council cleared me and everything.”

Mal chuckled. “Hugh was instrumental in helping us solve our first case. Let’s say it’s a long story and leave it at that for now. Why don’t you explain a little more about werewolf protocols? For his”—he smirked at Hugh—“notes.”

“Yeah, yeah. Bait the human. Like that never gets old,” Hugh grumbled, but the smile playing about his mouth told Chase that he wasn’t really angry.

“Well—”

“I’m sorry!” Zeke bustled back into the room, carrying a tray with a coffee carafe and three cups. “I should have handled this when Chase first came in, but I was just so distracted by his aura.” He set the coffee service down on the table. “I’ve been taking lessons from an incubus friend. It’s not that different than reading angel interface communications, but—”

“Zeke? Don’t you have someplace to be?”

Zeke blinked. “Oh. Right.” He smiled sheepishly. “I’ll give the band your best. And don’t worry—I used David’s coffee beans.”

Zeke hurried out as Mal shook his head with a grimace. “He’s still getting used to working in the Upper World without some asshole supervisor or another peering over his shoulder.” Mal filled all three cups neatly. “So I try not to be an asshole supervisor.” He nudged the tray forward so Hugh and Chase could each take a cup, then took a sip from his own. He closed his eyes, bliss suffusing his face. “Ahhh.” He opened his eyes and grinned at Chase. “David—my brother-in-law—won’t tell us the secret of his magic coffee beans, but he’s always willing to share.”

“Considering his aunt is a druid elder,” Hugh said tartly, “the beans probably are magic.” He slurped his coffee. “Not that I’m complaining.”

I’m jittery enough already. Coffee is the last thing I need. But Chase picked up his own cup and cradled it in his hands, if only to be polite. The warmth seeped into him, seeming to creep from his fingers to his hands, up his arms and across his chest to settle under his heart, where his calon was located. For the first time since he’d discovered Tanner’s absence, Chase’s shoulders relaxed.

Mal watched him, head tilted and eyebrow quirked. “I’ll be buggered. It’s magic even if you don’t drink it.” He gestured with his cup. “Sorry. Carry on.”

Where was I? Oh. Werewolf politics. “Do you already know that Oregon werewolf packs are organized by county?” Hugh nodded. “But only in counties where there’s significant forested land.”

“Is that so you can all run around as wolves at the full moon?”

Chase didn’t bristle at the question because Hugh sounded sincerely curious and not contemptuous. “We aren’t compelled to shift at the full moon. We can do it whenever we want—or never, for that matter. But shifting at the full moon and running in the forest with our packs is a holdover from the old days. It’s more of a . . . a . . .”

“Team-building exercise?” Hugh asked.

Chase chuckled. “I was going to say spiritual experience, but that will do as well. It’s a chance to reconnect with our pack mates and our heritage. But as the Wider World has gotten more populous, we’ve had to rein in our primitive instincts pretty tightly. It’s critical to our survival to pass as human.”

“The Secrecy Pact, right?” Hugh asked.

“Yes. The packs in the more urban counties”—Chase ticked them off on his fingers—“Multnomah, Clackamas, Washington. Lane, my home county. We have to watch ourselves even closer because the concentration of humans is higher. Despite being very long-lived, weres aren’t very populous, and while we’re landowners, we can’t develop the land. It would invite too much human scrutiny, and a lot of pack territories are bounded by public land anyway. Consequently, we’re not wealthy as a rule. Each pack’s economy is different, based on where they’re located and what resources they have at their disposal. The adult pack members are usually occupied keeping the pack businesses afloat. When it comes to training young weres how to function in the Wider World . . .” Chase shrugged. “They don’t really have time. And young weres—the ones who’ve passed their level one shifting certification—”

“Level one? What’s that?”

“They’re at least eighteen, and they can shift both into and out of their wolf form on command.”

Hugh scribbled something on his notepad. “Got it.”

“I mean, we all get the equivalent of a K-12 education at dedicated supe schools, but the focus there is on the basics and on learning to interact with other supes. After weres pass the level one cert, they’re still struggling with not shifting on impulse, learning how to control their instincts, and developing living and coping skills. In order for them not to disrupt the pack, they’re sent to a group home with other weres of the same age.”

Hugh scratched his head with the end of his pencil. “So it’s what—some kind of werewolf rumspringa?”

Mal guffawed, slapping his knee. “Good one, Hugh.”

“I suppose.” Chase didn’t really see the humor. “An RA with alpha potential takes charge and helps them learn how to function in the Wider World without endangering the Secrecy Pact—or themselves or others. Once they’ve passed their level two cert and hit twenty-one, they’re officially adults and can return to their pack.”

“Wait—‘alpha potential’? So werewolves really have that alpha/beta/omega thing going on, like in all the romance books?”

Chase tried not to wince, although judging by Mal’s chuckle, he wasn’t very successful. “That’s just fiction. Everyone without alpha potential is de facto a beta, yes. But there’s no such thing as an omega. And just because you’ve got alpha potential, it doesn’t automatically mean you’ll be a pack alpha. For one thing, there are more weres with alpha potential, both male and female, than there are packs, so we’re groomed for other leadership-type roles instead.” He glanced down at his coffee. As dark as Tanner’s eyes. “Middle management, I guess you’d say.”

“So is this RA assignment a trial-by-fire for middle manager alphas-in-training? I mean, it sounds like a pretty rough gig, if everyone in the house is out of control.”

“The first adult duty a were usually faces is their service commitment—three years in an unpaid position of some value to the pack structure. Being an RA for a Howling residence is one of the service options. It’s the one I chose.”

Hugh held up his hands. “No offense meant, man.”

“It’s all right. Most weres have the same attitude.” Chase had learned exactly how lightly others took RA responsibilities when he’d undergone his ridiculous “peer counseling.” “But I wanted to do it. I’ve loved it.” I wish I could do more.

Chase set his untasted coffee down, and immediately his shoulders inched toward his ears. “Anyway, Tanner Araya was partway through his third year at the house. His birthday is in November, so he’s always been—”

“Older than everyone in his class,” Hugh said. “Been there. December baby myself.”

“We were at the Bullpen on his birthday in November—”

“The twenty-third,” Mal said, with a smile that on anyone less beautiful would have been positively sappy.

“Yes. I don’t think Tanner was enjoying it all that much. It was really the other guys who wanted it. Wanted Tanner to have the experience, since he comes from a very isolated rural pack, where, from everything I could glean, he didn’t have many friends. We were joined by a group of other weres. Older. Old enough to have completed their service commitment and matriculated at OSU. Things got loud and chaotic, a number of things happened—most of them after you left, I think, Mal.”

“I heard that somebody tripped the Bullpen’s underage drinking spell.”

“Yes, that was Gage.”

Mal’s eyebrows rose. “Gage? I’d have thought Jordan.”

“No,” Chase said dryly. “Jordan was in the middle of getting lectured by me for taking an unsanctioned trip to the fight pens.”

Mal whistled, long and low. “Shite. Looks like Bryce and I missed all the excitement.” He grinned wickedly. “Although we generated some excitement of our own back home.”

Hugh clapped his hands over his ears. “La la la. Not listening.”

Mal leaned forward and whispered, “Humans. So sensitive.” Then he straightened up. “Go on.”

“Hamish helped get the other juniors—the ones who weren’t vomiting up everything they’d eaten for the last week—into an Uber and back to the house. He gave me a token to take Gage through Faerie.”

“A prepaid trip,” Mal murmured. “Nice one.”

“The others said Tanner had decided to walk home—he was used to hikes at his pack compound. I was kind of tied up getting Gage settled back at the house, but I thought Tanner had come back. I heard the shower running, and there was a pizza box on his bed . . .” Chase’s voice died as he remembered preventing Hector from taking the pizza box to his room. He put it in Tanner’s room. “Damn.” His throat went tight, and he fought a prickle in his eyes. If I’d paid attention, if I’d noticed, I could have searched for him that night, before the trail went cold.

“Chase?” Mal’s concerned voice broke Chase out of his reverie. “You all right, mate?”

Chase offered Mal a thin-lipped smile. “Sorry. I just realized something.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, the Bullpen alarm logged the infraction with the SMA—”

“Supe Monitoring Agency.” Hugh grimaced. “That one I know about. Lousy sphinxes.”

Tell me about it. “So the Assimilation Board—”

“Whoa. That’s a new one. I think.” Hugh rifled through his notebook pages.

“Weres aren’t the only ones who have to learn how to pass in the human world. The Assimilation Board oversees the process for all species.”

“Wow.” Hugh started scribbling again. “This stuff is incredible.”

Yeah, incredibly annoying. “The board called me on the carpet at six thirty the next morning.”

“Six thirty?” Hugh goggled. “Jeez, really?”

Mal poured himself another cup of coffee. “Not everyone’s as delicate as you humans. The board keeps overnight hours so the supes who can’t go out in the light can still be raked over the coals at their earliest convenience.” He cocked his head at Chase over the rim of his cup. “Am I right?”

Chase nodded. “They reprimanded me for the fight pen incident as well as the drinking spell, then slapped me with a three-month suspension, effective immediately. They assigned a substitute RA.”

“So that’s why Bryce and I didn’t get called to resume lessons after the winter break. You weren’t there to do the job right.”

Privately, Chase agreed. Andrew clearly hadn’t done the job right. In fact, he’d barely done the job at all. If he had, Tanner might . . . Chase took a deep breath. “This morning was my first day back at the house. I found out that not only had Tanner not returned that night in November, but nobody had seen him since he left the Bullpen.” Hugh opened his mouth as if to ask a question, but Chase forestalled him. “He’s not at his home pack. I checked.” Although not exactly the way I should have. “Apparently Tanner never went home for breaks.” And covered it so well that I never suspected.

“Are you kidding me? Didn’t his parents even try to call him on Christmas or the solstice or whatever holiday you were breaking for?”

Chase shrugged. “As long as the juniors are at a Howling residence, their packs and families aren’t allowed direct contact. Besides, Tanner’s parents are both deceased. His uncle has been his guardian since he was four.”

“Any animosity there?” Mal asked, finger tapping on the rim of his mug.

“No. Tanner seems sincerely fond of his uncle, who’s always treated him well, if a bit patronizingly. But that’s pretty standard in werewolf society. Alphas.” He shrugged. “What can you do?”

“Hmmm.” Mal peered at him through narrowed eyes. “Did anything else happen at the Bullpen? Any other interaction that might have upset Tanner? Caused him to do something rash? Because I’ve got to say, having worked with him for more than two years, this is completely out of character for him.”

Heat rushed up Chase’s throat until he probably looked parboiled. “He . . . ah . . . well . . . He kissed me.”

Hugh grunted and jotted something in his notes, but Mal’s gaze softened. “I take it that didn’t go as either one of you had planned.”

“I hadn’t planned anything!” Chase cried. “That was the problem. He kissed me without asking, so since I’d never had the consent talk with him, I pulled away. But I didn’t have a chance to tell him that I wouldn’t have minded at all—that I’d have welcomed it—if he’d only asked.”

Hugh pointed his pencil at Chase. “Doesn’t that kinda violate the RA rules? I mean, the RA at my college dorm wasn’t allowed to screw the residents.” He wrinkled his nose. “Not that any of us would have wanted to. The guy stank like a fucking ashtray. Smokers.” He waggled his eyebrows at Chase. “What can you do?”

“Technically, Tanner wasn’t under my protection anymore, not in my capacity as a Howling RA, anyway. He’d passed his exams and had turned twenty-one, and since he’s got alpha potential too, our relative status within were society is equal. There’s no question of power imbalance anymore. It was just . . .” Chase ran his hands through his hair and huffed an exasperated breath. “Such bad timing.”

“Right.” Mal set his cup down and slapped both knees. “If you were a distraught newly adult werewolf who thought he’d lost his one chance with the love of his life—”

Chase whimpered. He couldn’t help it. Gods, when it comes to Tanner, I have no more control than Jordan.

“—what would you do?”

“I know what I did,” Hugh said. “I hightailed it into the woods and ran like hell.”

“Hmmm. Yes. But Tanner was in Old Town.” Mal poked Chase’s knee with a finger. “I know you weres. Even you cosmopolitan types can’t stand to walk too long on the pavement. And if you’re upset, you’re even more on edge and head for the nearest trees, and not always to piss on them. Plus, Tanner had only passed his level two cert recently, so something as emotional as this could knock him off-balance. He’d want to get somewhere safe, in case he started to spontaneously shift.” His eyes lit up. “If we were talking about Gage, I’d have said we should start with the river—he’d have headed for water, even if the Willamette isn’t the ocean. But Tanner’s an inland wolf. I’ll wager anything you like he hid in Forest Park.”

“But it was three months ago now. The trail will have gone cold.”

“Maybe. But we’ve got a couple of aces up our sleeve.” He shifted to one side and pulled his cell phone out of his back pocket, then tapped the screen twice and held it to his ear. When the call connected, a huge smile split his face, even though he was staring at his empty cup. “Hey, babe. Have your dryad maintenance hordes picked up anything unusual in Forest Park? Yes, I know the exact date.” He winked at Chase. “The night we got engaged.” He pulled the phone away from his ear. “Even becoming a journeyman druid didn’t kill Bryce’s obsession with environmental work parties. So, since he can’t beat the dryads off him with a stick, he put ’em to work.” He lifted the phone again. “Yeah, still here. Well, now, that is very interesting. Can you bring it here? Thanks, babe. See you soon.” Mal disconnected and tossed the phone onto the table. “Guess what the dryads discovered above the Wildwood Trail in the wee hours of November twenty-fourth?” When neither Hugh nor Chase ventured a guess, Mal grinned. “A pair of sneakers tucked beneath a tree root.” His grin widened. “And a signet with the Wallowa pack crest.”

“Any—” Chase’s voice broke on the word. “Any sign of a struggle? Any b-blood?”

“No. But quite a few footprints. All of them—” Mal paused until Chase was ready to howl “—from the same wolf.”

“So he’s in Forest Park? Let’s go!” Chase leaped up. “I know I can follow his scent once we’re there.”

“Settle down.” Mal gestured for Chase to sit, but Chase couldn’t. The most he could manage was gripping the back of the chair to keep himself from running out the door and straight to the park. “He was in the park at that spot, but that’s three months gone. We need to know where he is now. For that, we’ll need to do a bit of legwork. Bryce is bringing Tanner’s things over. Any idea why he’d abandon his signet?”

Chase shook his head, his fingernails biting into the brocade of the chair back. “He’d only gotten it from his uncle that morning. I don’t think he’d even put it on yet. He didn’t seem that excited about it.”

“Hmmm.” Mal stared out the window. “I don’t think we can assume he discarded it on purpose. According to the dryads, it was a hundred feet or so away from the shoes, which seemed to be deliberately hidden. Perhaps he dropped it accidentally.” He shifted his gaze back to Chase. “Whichever, we can use it to trace him.”

“By a witch’s locating spell, you mean? Or does Bryce have a druid tracking method?”

“Both of those take time and preparation, and in the witches’ case, sacrificing something you’d probably prefer to hold on to. Besides, all that nonsense about natural consequences? The witches would be as likely to refuse because it’s your own fault for not keeping track of him.”

Chase’s belly knotted until he wanted to curl up and den somewhere. “I wanted to give him space. I didn’t want—”

Mal surged off the loveseat to plant his hand on Chase’s shoulder. “Here, boyo. Don’t get mired in useless guilt.” He snorted, his grip tightening. “Gods know I never do. Bryce wishes I would sometime.”

“Shouldn’t we ask the witches, though? I’ll give anything—”

“Here now. Never say that around witches. Or demons.” He screwed up his face. “Druids, either, for that matter. In fact, never say that at all.”

“I’m willing to—”

Mal grunted, holding up one hand. “What did I just say?”

“If it means we’ll find Tanner”—and that he’s okay—“I’m willing to do whatever it takes.”

Mal sighed heavily, shaking his head. He looked down at Hugh. “The impetuous idealism of youth can be so tiring. Makes me glad I’m old and jaded.”

Hugh snorted. “Right. I bet the only reason you’re not making tracks for the nearest coven is because you’ve got an easier way out.”

Chase gazed up at Mal. “You do?”

“I might.” Mal winked. “But I can’t give away all my secrets.” He slapped Chase on the back. “Drink up, boyo. You too, Hugh. Because as soon as Bryce delivers the goods, we’re taking a bit of a jaunt. To Faerie.”