“If we can find him,” Cristian answered.

Bowman swung on him. “If you say that like it’s a question again, I’ll take you apart. We’re finding him. And Kenzie. Now stop standing around bleating like an old woman and get on with it.”

Bowman expected Cristian to respond with anger, maybe even issue a challenge, but the older man only looked at him with understanding.

“You are right,” Cristian said. “We must first find my niece and grandnephew and cease speculating on what might be. We will find them.” He didn’t touch Bowman, but his eyes held both strength and compassion. “This I promise you.”

* * *

Brigid looked pained when Kenzie used the Fae cloak to wipe the mud from Ryan’s face and hands. Ryan succumbed to the cleaning with poor grace.

“Why don’t you turn to wolf?” Brigid suggested as he fussed. “Then you could lick yourself clean.”

“Because, ew,” Ryan said, giving Brigid a disparaging look. “Anyway, what if the mud is poisonous? Could be, in a zombified place like this.”

“You still haven’t told me how you got here,” Kenzie said as she wiped.

Ryan looked embarrassed. “My own fault, I guess. I thought the Sword of the Guardian might have enough magic in it to open the way through the mists. So I grabbed it and tried. The stupid sword flew in here like it wanted to lance something. I let it go, and Pierce yelled at me. I thought I’d reach in and see if it was, you know, like lying on the ground right inside, and I got sucked in too. I mean, really fast, like the sword did. I don’t know why I ended up falling into the mud, but I did.” He looked stricken. “Oh, man, I hope the sword isn’t at the bottom of that bog. Pierce would be seriously pissed off at me.”

“Sword?” Brigid asked with interest. She perked up at the mention of weapons of any kind.

“Of the Guardian,” Ryan said. “Magical. They were made seven hundred years ago by a Shifter sword smith and a Fae woman who put the spells in it. The Shifter and the Fae were mates, believe it or not, and created swords to make sure Shifter souls didn’t linger to be enslaved by the Fae. Fae were still trying to make Shifters their slaves, back then, alive or dead.” Ryan shrugged. “Still are.”

“So I have heard,” Brigid answered, disapproving. “Foolish endeavors. We no longer need Shifters.”

“Some Fae are fanatics about it,” Kenzie said. “And those are the ones Shifters have to deal with.”

“You have my sympathy.” Brigid folded her arms. “Not that any of this helps us depart this place.”

“That’s true.” Kenzie had never dreamed she’d a) meet a Fae; or b) agree with one so much. “Ryan, you said the sword came in here easily. From what I understand, it’s pretty self-preserving, so I’d be surprised if it ended up in the bog. Let’s look for it. Maybe it can help us get out.” She allowed her hope to rise. “Turner said he needed a talisman to come and go through the mists, and you know, the Sword of the Guardian is one big magical talisman.”

“Yeah,” Ryan said, leaping to his feet. “You’re pretty smart, Mom. Sometimes.”

Brigid laughed, a surprisingly beautiful sound. “Offspring have much in common everywhere, do they not? My own daughters have said the same to me.” Her laughter died, sorrow entering her eyes. “Yes, let us search.”

Brigid helped Kenzie to her feet, and they started to look through the mud and reeds at the edge of the bog for the elusive sword.

A tingle of dread signaled Kenzie before the mists grew dense, wrapping clammy tendrils around her. Ryan shrank to her side as the mists thickened, then parted, revealing Turner standing not ten feet from them.

His outline was darker than before, and from this shadow, his blue eyes shone with cold light. He raised a tranquilizer rifle and shot first Ryan and then Kenzie, who leapt at him to keep him from her son.

Brigid’s hands automatically reached for weapons she no longer carried, but Turner invoked the binding spell. She froze in place, bracing herself for a third dart to come for her.

It never did. Turner lifted something that glinted in the half light and the mists became dense. When they thinned again, Turner, the Shifter woman, and the Shifter woman’s cub were gone.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Brigid checked the perimeter of the place of their captivity, but Kenzie and Ryan were nowhere to be found. Turner had taken them.

The darkness was nearly complete by the time Brigid returned to the place she considered base camp—the large, flat boulder she used as a seat, the soft pile of leaves that was her makeshift bed. Kenzie still had the cloak, which meant Brigid would have no cover tonight. But this place, wherever it was, was far warmer than her home in Tuil Narath—what the Shifters called Faerie—so it scarcely mattered.

The emptiness that smote her as Brigid seated herself on the rock surprised her. She didn’t like sentimentality, and she didn’t like Shifters. Or so she’d thought before meeting Kenzie.

Kenzie had proved companionable. The Shifter woman understood, the same way Brigid did, about love and loss, hardship and happiness. Brigid didn’t like to think about what Turner would do to her, or to Ryan, the cub.

Turner was a madman. Brigid had assessed that as soon as she’d looked into his cold, emotionless eyes. He cared for nothing and no one. He’d coerced Brigid into her labors, not to help his people, but for his own glory. To show everyone he’d been right that Shifters existed, and that they’d been wrong to shun him. Being right was important to him, and he was willing to hurt others to prove it.