Cash and Everett were notably absent.

There were gasps as Connor walked past them, ignored them, and took the girl into Georgia’s cabin.

“Get Ronan,” he said to Georgia.

His voice was entirely alpha now and brooked no argument. And Georgia made none, at least aloud. But the grim set of her eyes when she looked at Carlie, then shifted her gaze to me, was more than enough.

Connor placed the girl on the sofa. Protectiveness—a sharp tug of it I hadn’t expected—pulled me back to her. I went to my knees in front of the couch, rubbed my hands over my face.

“How long does it take?” he asked.

I opened my eyes and looked at him, saw pain and worry etched on his face, and hated that I’d put it there. “If you mean the transformation, three days.”

Assuming she didn’t die along the way, but I couldn’t bring myself to say that aloud. I had to believe this was going to work.

I cleared my throat, tried to push through the knot of emotions that tried to strangle me. “You said she lived with her grandmother. You might want to check on her, if you haven’t already. Let her know Carlie’s . . . alive.”

Georgia came back in. “Ronan is on his way. He’s not far from here.” She looked at me. “What happened?”

“There was a party at the Stone farm,” I said. “On the other side of the woods. We were at a firepit and heard screaming. We all took off and found the fight—creatures attacking the humans at their party—and fought them.”

“Creatures?” she asked.

“We’ll get to that,” Connor said, gaze on me. “Keep going.”

I nodded. “I was fighting one of them, and I went down. She tried to save me. She hit the beast, and it went down, but came up again and dragged her into the woods. It was fast. I followed it, eventually got close enough to throw my dagger. I hit the beast, and it dropped her and kept running. She was hurt, so I had to let it go.”

I swallowed hard. “It ripped her abdomen open. She was nearly gone when I got to her. Her heart—”

I could hear the echo of her heartbeat again, a soft and fading whisper.

I shook my head, made myself meet his gaze. “Her heart was stopping. She wouldn’t have survived if I’d tried to move her. So I began the process. I bit her, took her blood, and gave her mine. And then you came.”

The only heartbeat I heard in the following silence was mine.

“Someone needs to check on her grandmother,” Connor said finally, his face and tone carefully schooled.

Georgia frowned with confusion, but nodded. “We’ll check on her. Make sure she’s all right.” She looked at Connor. “Are you going to tell me what the hell it was?”

“Unknown canids,” Connor said. “Four of them. Not actual wolves, not shifters. They were bigger, taller, leaner. Walked upright. And not wild animals; they were supernatural. They were magic. They’re what attacked Beth,” he added. “And killed Loren.”

Georgia blinked, as if trying to translate words she didn’t quite understand. “Magic. You’re talking about a curse? A spell?”

“I don’t know.” He paced to one end of the living room, then back again. “What about dire wolves?”

Georgia’s brows lifted nearly to her hairline. “Dire wolves. As in prehistoric animals? Mammoths and saber-toothed tigers and cavemen? I know they existed, and they’re extinct,” she said, frowning. “My father was obsessed with wolves, had a big book, and he’d show us pictures of the types of canines around the world. Everything from dire wolves to Chihuahuas.” She tried for a smile, but it didn’t stick. “Dire wolves moved on four legs, not on two.”

“Yeah,” Connor said, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what they are, or how they are, but I don’t know of anything else that’s big enough. Not that has existed before. Maybe this is something new. Either way, they’re clan.”

Georgia’s eyes went wide. “No.”

“Yes,” he said simply. “Based on the scent, on the magic, they’re clan. They’ve done something to themselves magically, made themselves bigger, stronger. But still clan. They attacked Beth. Killed Loren. Nearly killed Carlie.”

Georgia shook her head, as if that might clear away some of the confusion. “I don’t understand any of this. Who would do it? Or why?”

The who and why, I thought, were beginning to piece themselves together. This started with Paisley, and it would end with her.

“We’re working on that,” Connor said. “And we’ll figure it out.”

* * *

* * *

It took ten minutes for Ronan to burst in, two vampires behind him, all of them changing the air in the room. Georgia’s mouth pinched into a hard line, either unhappy with the vampire or the fact that he was in her house.

Ronan ignored us, kneeled beside Carlie. He pulled back her lids, scanned her eyes, then put a hand on her wrist to check her pulse. “What happened?”

I told Ronan the same story I’d told Connor and Georgia as Ronan made his examination. Silence fell when I’d finished the retelling and he finalized his work. Then he looked at me.

“How long did you feed her?”

“Minutes,” I said. “Ten maybe? I fed her until she let go.”

“How long since you stopped?”

I had no idea how much time had passed. It felt like hours, but guilt and worry had pulled time, stretched it. I looked toward the windows, found the sky was dark. “I’m not sure.”

“About twenty minutes,” Connor said.

Ronan nodded, rose, looked at me. “After the initial feeding, there’s a period of rest followed by supplemental feedings over the three days. So you accidentally did the right thing.”

His voice was hard now, tinged with admonishment, but his words still had relief moving through me.

“She’ll be all right?” Connor asked.

“We don’t know that yet. Not all survive the transition, particularly when the vampires making them are not old or strong enough.” He looked at me. “You are not a Master. You don’t have the experience or the skill to do this.”

“You may have missed the part of the story,” I said, barely managing to control my tongue as guilt burned off, replaced by anger, “where I either bit her or I let her die.”

“Don’t imagine yourself a savior,” Ronan snapped out. “She may die anyway, and there will be more pain in between.”

I moved closer. “I did what had to be done in the moment. I’m experienced enough to know that giving her a shot at life was better than letting her die. I won’t apologize to you for that.” If Carlie demanded an apology, that would be different. But I’d have to worry about that later.

“I’m also experienced enough to know that she needs to be with you—with vampires—during the transition. Not here. I called to ask for your help. Do you want to help, or do I need to find someone who will?”

There was condescension and irritation in his eyes now. He didn’t think much of me, and he thought even less of my request for help. But one of his vampires came forward, probably at his telepathic order, and picked up Carlie.

“Come with me,” Ronan said, and turned for the door.

“Find Alexei,” I heard Connor say to Georgia behind me, and he followed me out.

FIFTEEN

Of course he has a limo,” Connor muttered as we slid into the long white vehicle parked outside Georgia’s cabin. It was an Auto, a woman’s voice requesting in sultry tones that we please take our seats and engage the safety belts.

Carlie had been laid on the limo’s carpeted floor, a vampire holding her head, and another at her feet to help keep her stable. Connor and I took seats along the reverse-facing bench, just far enough apart that our bodies didn’t touch.

Ronan sat on the side-facing seat, one hand draped over the back as he stared out the window. His vampires stared at me. Unlike the shifters, their expressions were shielded; I guessed that was due at least in part to deference to their Master. But they couldn’t hide the bristling magic that peppered the air.

We drove southwest, following the old main road that paralleled the lakeshore before diving inland onto a two-lane road roofed by arcing trees.

Connor sat silently, brow furrowed, gaze on Carlie.

I couldn’t blame him. I watched her, too, checking for sign of transformation or distress. But she was so still, so motionless, that it was difficult to imagine anything was happening at all. And that we hadn’t lost her despite my efforts.

I knew Connor was worried about her, but it was impossible to ignore the emotional wall that seemed to be rising between us. And it wasn’t difficult to imagine why he’d constructed it. I’d hurt someone he loved—used fangs and blood against her—and dragged him into a political nightmare in the meantime. I’d become exactly the kind of liability Miranda had warned me against.

“A little rebellion,” Miranda had called me, “because he can’t afford you.” If relationships really were a kind of math—good qualities measured against bad, benefits measured against costs—tonight would certainly have changed the balance, and not in my favor. Not as long as he sat in measuring silence.

* * *

* * *

Forest bluffs gave way to rolling hills, and eventually to a shadowed house that waited on the crest of a knoll for its vampires to return.

The house was stunning even in the dark. Pale golden stone, symmetrical with white windows, tall white chimneys on each end, and a columned portico. With no other buildings nearby, it looked like a dollhouse a child had left behind. Or maybe the site of a Gothic horror novel.

Two Sup communities in this small slice of rural Minnesota, but their homes couldn’t have been more different. The sprawling and aging resort, hiding among the trees beside the lake, versus this castle on a hill, a stark and unavoidable mark on the landscape.