Kim was halfway to Shiftertown when Tattoo Guy’s words struck her. When Shifters don’t wear Collars. What the hell did that mean? He’d said the words as though it was a real time to come, not wishful thinking.

Kim gripped the steering wheel and kept driving. She’d have to ask Liam whether the man was simply blowing off steam—if Liam would ever answer his damn phone.

Chapter Twenty

Liam walked around the next block of derelict and empty buildings. The brick walls were battered and worn, and rotted boards covered broken-out windows.

A place like this might attract a curious kid who’d decided to head out on his own. Liam remembered how he, Sean, and Kenny had liked to explore the ruins of castles—Ireland was full of them—crumbling stones barely held together of some long-forgotten keep. Did they care that it was dangerous, that they could get trapped, buried, crushed by unexpected rock fall?

Not really. They were Shifters. Tough, dangerous, bold.

“Bloody stupid,” Liam said under his breath. No wonder their mum had raised hell with them.

He turned a corner between buildings and heard Michael crying.

The sound came from the warehouse beside him, the wide door covered with planks of old wood. Liam kicked apart the wood, mildewed and rotted, and it broke easily.

The warehouse inside was dim, the concrete floor pitted and covered with dust. A metal door made of new, shining, solid steel, gleamed in the wall to his right. Its handle was wrapped in chains and padlocked. Banging came from behind it, along with two voices—Michael’s high-pitched wail and the shouts of a man he didn’t recognize.

Liam’s nostrils widened as he took the scent of the air. Nothing but terror from Michael and the man behind this door, overlaid by the decay of the building. Even if this was a trick to trap Liam for some reason, it was certain that the prisoners hadn’t padlocked themselves into the room from the outside.

Liam wrapped the hem of his shirt around the padlock, let his hand shift to strong Shifter claws, and broke the lock. He swung the door open, backing up quickly when a wave of fetid air poured from the tiny room beyond.

A man rushed out and collapsed on the floor outside his makeshift cell, breathing hard. His hair was tangled and matted, and his clothes were rank. A Lupine, by his eyes and smell, but Liam didn’t know him. Michael rushed out behind him, his hands manacled, and Liam gathered the boy up in his arms. Michael clung to him, soaking up all the comfort he could.

“How did you get locked in there?” he asked Michael.

“The bad man brought me.”

“What bad man, sweetie?”

“A Feline captured me.” The man on the floor glared up at him with bloodshot eyes. “Like you.”

“Which Feline? Fergus?”

“No. That wasn’t his name.” The stranger pushed himself to his feet, screwing up his eyes against even the dim light. “Oh, yeah, Brian. That was it.”

Liam’s blood froze. “Brian.”

“That’s what he said. Then this morning, some other Feline opens up the door and throws this little guy in with me. I’m glad you came when you did. I was getting hungry, and the Feline said I wasn’t allowed to eat.”

The Shifter’s gaze moved to Michael. The boy wasn’t timid, but when those bloodshot Lupine eyes landed on him, he backed away fast until he crouched into a dusty corner. “Something’s wrong with him, Liam,” Michael whimpered.

The Lupine moved out into the light, and Liam saw clearly that instead of a Collar, a line of blood-blackened bare skin ran around his neck. His Collar had been removed.

“Michael,” Liam said. “Run!”

Eyes round with terror, the boy scuttled away. Liam grabbed the Lupine by the shoulder, spinning him around. The Lupine snarled and leapt, and Liam met the attack.

The two fell to the ground, Liam’s hands becoming claws. They fought, Liam trying to sever the feral’s spine. The feral reared up and brought down a most unlikely weapon—a hypodermic needle. Before Liam could roll aside, the feral plunged the needle into his shoulder.

Liam fought a few more seconds, and then his muscles went slack and he couldn’t move at all. He didn’t black out, but he prayed hard in the next hours for unconsciousness to come.

At first glance Shiftertown seemed to be in chaos. Shifters roamed everywhere in parties of two and three, calling Michael’s name. Shifters on motorcycles and in ratty cars cruised the streets both inside and on the outskirts of Shiftertown, moving slowly and peering into the shadows of every building.

When Kim entered the Morrissey house, she realized that the searching had been organized in almost military fashion. Dylan stood alone in the kitchen, a map of Shiftertown and its environs spread across the table. A careful grid had been drawn on the map. Dylan’s cell phone was at his ear, and he marked off squares in the grid as he talked to the person on the other end.

Dylan spotted Kim. “Kim’s here,” he said into the phone. “And Nate and Spike. Come back to the house and pick up Kim. Nate and Spike will make up another team.”

Nate and Spike? Tattoo Guy and Military Man were dismounting their motorcycles at the front curb. Kim briefly wondered which was which.

Dylan hung up his phone, came to Kim, and enfolded her in his arms. Shifter greeting. They’re tense; I bet they need a lot of reassurance right now.

Kim returned the hug, squeezing Dylan hard before releasing him. “Were you talking to Liam? Where is he?”

Dylan shook his head. “Sean. Liam hasn’t checked in.”