“Not far from here,” Bowman reminded him, impatient.

“Exactly. Why should a Fae brooch fall in the woods near Shiftertown? With no sign of any Fae attached to it?”

“I told you, it’s magical,” Bowman said. “I think Turner used it to pay off the sniper, but it wanted to stay around here, close to something Fae, like one of the gates.”

Cristian slanted him a glance, opened his mouth to argue, then closed it again. He tried to hand Bowman back the pendant, but Bowman shook his head.

“Keep it,” Bowman said. “You’re better at figuring out Fae crap than I am. If it has anything to do with Kenzie, tell me. If not, I’m not interested.”

Cristian raised his brows, but nodded and slid the talisman into a pocket.

“Dad,” Ryan said, so sharply that Bowman jerked his attention to him. “Is that him?”

Bowman spun to where Ryan was pointing. The Shifters around him came alert, and Bowman moved in front of Ryan.

The mists cleared, and Turner stepped out of them.

Jamie shifted and went for him. The cheetah sprang fast and hard, with Cade, still human, just behind him. Doing their jobs, fighting to protect Bowman and bring down an enemy.

Something buzzed in Turner’s hand, and Jamie’s Collar went off in mid-leap. Lighting licked all the way around his neck, surrounding him in a blue nimbus. Jamie tumbled swiftly downward, his mouth open in a furious snarl, and landed hard on the dirt.

Cade moved into the opening Jamie left, growling as he reached for Turner, but another buzz, and his growl turned to a shout of pain. The big man went to his knees, arcs of electricity snapping into his human skin.

The others were already moving forward, Pierce’s sword ringing as he drew it. The primary purpose of the Sword of the Guardian was to release souls to the Summerland, but on any other day it was simply a damn sharp weapon. The runes on the blade gleamed in the gray light, as though they wanted to join the fight.

Turner shot a look at the sword, the only thing that seemed to frighten him. He showed no fear of the attacking Shifters.

Bowman decided to change that. He charged him, not bothering to shift, and grabbed Turner by the lapels of his padded jacket. Bowman jerked him from his feet. “What the fuck have you done with my mate?”

Turner’s eyes were icy behind his glasses, with absolutely no feeling in them at all. Bowman had never seen anything like it. Though Cristian could be cool and calculating, the man had fire inside him. Turner had nothing.

Bowman’s Collar went off. Turner jabbed something into the top of Bowman’s thigh—a knife? A Taser? Whatever it was, it hurt like hell, and Bowman’s skin crackled with the shocks from his Collar.

He transferred his hold to Turner’s throat, no longer interested in keeping him alive. He let his claws come to cut into Turner’s flesh, but felt his own body weakening as the Collar kept up its punishment. Blood ran hot against Bowman’s leg, and he heard something crack.

The Sword of the Guardian swooshed past Bowman’s head. Turner’s eyes widened, and he shoved Bowman away as the blade came down.

The fire high in Bowman’s thigh left him, though clenching pain remained. He heard Gil’s shout.

“Grab the—” He said a strange word Bowman didn’t understand. “Aw, damn it!”

The mists swirled, and Turner was gone. Bowman fell to his knees, his Collar still sparking.

“Dad!” Ryan was at Bowman’s side, his small hands reaching for him. Cristian came to him as well, his touch surprisingly gentle as he steadied Bowman.

The mists thickened. Bowman reached for them but felt only moisture on his hands.

Kenzie! he called silently, then collapsed into the arms of his son and his archenemy.

* * *

“Bowman!” Kenzie leapt to her feet. Brigid lifted her head from where she lay and regarded her quizzically.

All was silent.

Kenzie had heard Bowman’s voice; she knew it. A call across distance, mists, worlds . . . Wherever the hell she was.

Another trick? Kenzie turned slowly in a circle, searching. The vision she’d had earlier had shown her Bowman and Ryan smiling, happy, beckoning her to join them.

This time, she’d heard only Bowman’s voice, which had been filled with rage, pain, and anguish. No smiling illusion. Desperation, hurt. Emotions that had grabbed Kenzie and wouldn’t let go.

“Bowman!” she shouted back in the same desperation. “I’m here!”

The echoes of her words died, and silence descended.

“Did you hear him?” Brigid asked, her voice gentle.

Kenzie nodded, her eyes wet. “Like he was standing next to me. Shouting in that crabby way of his.” She gave Brigid a shaky smile. “Have you heard your kids or sisters calling to you?”

“No.” Brigid shook her head. “They only stand where I cannot reach, tempting me to go to them, but I cannot hear their voices. They are demons in fair guise.”

“This was different.” It had been Bowman’s true voice; she was certain of it.

Kenzie’s chest ached, her breath catching. She turned from Brigid so the Fae woman wouldn’t see the tears rolling down her face.

Bowman, Kenzie called silently. I’m here.

I love you.

* * *

Bowman’s eyes jerked open. He was lying, of all places, on the bed in Turner’s wrecked trailer house. The bedroom ceiling was still intact, but the walls were full of holes from where Shifters had torn away wallboard, searching for anything Turner might have hidden. The bed had been shoved into the middle of the room, with Bowman spread out on it.