“There’s something that’s not in the files.” Patrick leaned back, draping his arms across his chest. “Ben didn’t print it out. Made me memorize it. GPS coordinates, and we’re pretty sure it’s where the collar ended up.”
Andrew pulled his phone from his pocket. “Did you run them?”
“Nope. Didn’t want a record left if something happened to me.”
Patrick rattled off the number for Andrew to enter as Kat opened the third folder, her eyebrows coming together. “They were outlining missions. Not vague goals either. This one uses Ben to obtain additional sources of funding by shaving interest off of thousands of corporate accounts.” She flipped a page. “These are detailed. Insanely detailed.”
“And useless without the collar.” The GPS search program on his phone returned the results. “It looks like a spot out in the middle of Terrebonne Parish, south of Houma. The back end of the bayou.”
Kat snapped the folder shut and pushed it away from her. “So we go find it,” she said quietly. “We go find it, then we fly to Wyoming and let Michelle Peyton use her badass Seer magic to erase it from existence.”
It sounded simple, easy. “We have to plan on being followed, one way or another, which means we plan for a fight.”
“Which means we bring Julio.” Kat glanced up at him. “And Anna. I don’t think we should waste time calling people back from all over the country. We should go as soon as we can round everyone up.”
Which left out most everyone she hadn’t already named. “And Miguel,” Andrew noted. “This is his fight too, whether he knows it or not.”
“What about that wizard you work for?” Patrick asked. “Jackson Holt, right? Isn’t he still in town?”
“He’s out west, helping his wife track down a relative.” The words were absent, most of Kat’s attention fixed on Andrew. “Are you sure about Miguel?” she asked, almost tentatively. “It won’t be complicated?”
It would be hell, especially if shit went down and they ended up in a fight where Miguel’s instincts might very well lead him to try to protect Kat. “I won’t love it,” Andrew admitted, “but we can’t afford to leave valuable people out of the loop because they make us cranky. It won’t be a problem.” Nothing I can’t control, anyway.
Kat nodded and turned to Patrick. “And I guess that’s why you’re here.”
“I’ve chased down a rogue psychic or two in my day,” he agreed. “We better assume they know they’ll be facing shapeshifters, though. The question is if they’ll underestimate your friend Andrew, here.”
“Most people do.” He was a new wolf, barely a year made. A mongrel mistake. “Not as many do it twice.”
Patrick lifted his bag. “Well let’s not give them a second chance.”
The bayou was just remote enough to be creepy without being remote enough for a supernatural showdown, which was the perfect recipe for a nerve-wracking clusterfuck.
And Kat couldn’t get her bangs to stay out of her eyes.
In lieu of calling off the vital mission until she could get a grown-up haircut, Kat settled on unfashionable but practical pigtails. Fussing with her hair as they waited for the others to arrive didn’t seem very heroic, but at least it put her somewhere between her two companions on the fidgety scale.
Andrew was calm and unwavering as he leaned against the bumper of his SUV, his arms crossed over his chest. Julio, on the other hand, was taking advantage of the fact that half the outside lights were out at the tiny bait shop off Little Caillou Road, and pacing broodingly in the shadows.
Finally, he scraped his boot into the dirt and sighed. “I don’t like the skulking. I think that’s the part that gets me.”
“Being sneaky,” Kat corrected, the words muffled by the ponytail holder held between her teeth. She finished gathering the rest of her hair and tied it off into a second pigtail just high enough to keep her vision unimpeded. “Shapeshifters should do it more often. Not everything has to be a full frontal assault.”
“If this freaky-ass cult had mounted that sort of attack, we wouldn’t be hanging around in the dark. And the cold, damn it.” He shoved his hands in his jacket pockets. “We’d be done and out for beers already.”
Kat turned to pick up her gun and glanced at Andrew. “Is that what we’re doing after we save the world from psychics? Getting beer?”
“Sure.” He was looking off down the dark highway, and the drone of a car engine materialized. “That’s what we always do after we save the world.”
They were night and day. Julio edgy and intense, Andrew utterly motionless. She remembered the jittery moments after she’d been shot, when color had faded from the world around him. “Are you all right?”
He smiled suddenly, and she knew he was trying to reassure her. “I’ll be better if I don’t have to get naked in the bayou tonight. Julio’s right. It’s cold as balls out here.”
Nothing sexy about nakedness when it was a prelude to a fight. “I’ve never seen you as a wolf, you know.”
“No.” He straightened from the bumper as the noise of the engine drew closer. “No, you haven’t.”
He hadn’t even paused to consider. Just no, and now she wondered if it was deliberate. If he was hiding that part of himself from her.
Tonight, if things went badly, he might not be able to hide. Kat checked her handgun carefully, deciding in the end to leave the safety engaged. “Anna’s car?” she asked. “Or is that Patrick? I can’t really tell cars from motorcycles.”
“It’s both,” Julio answered as headlights came into view over a small rise. “Anna’s little sportster and one mammoth bike, from the sound of it.”
Sera was safely ensconced at Dixie John’s for the late shift, and Anna had left from there with Miguel in tow. Three shapeshifters, one telepathic shapeshifter, an empath and a bounty hunter whose tattoos held more magic than anything the Ink Shrink had ever created. Ben had hinted once that his brother’s ability to compete with shapeshifters was due to some sort of mystical exchange, a boon paid for in blood and ink, but the one time Kat had pressed for details, Ben had become evasive to the point of avoidance.
Not that it mattered why the tattoos worked. Patrick held his own against monsters every day. Andrew and Julio were council members. Anna had been trained in combat by the Conclave. Kat and Miguel had psychic power to burn between them, and gifts that lent themselves well to offensive attacks. The gun clutched in her hands might make her feel secure, but it was nothing compared to the power of her mind.
Whatever waited for them in the frigid night, they were equal to it.
If she repeated their qualifications enough times, maybe she’d even believe it.
Swallowing, Kat slipped her hand into her pocket and pulled out her phone. She’d copied the GPS location from Andrew, because someone who wasn’t going to end up on four paws needed to have it. “I did a quick sweep a few minutes ago to check for followers, but Miguel can do one too, when he gets here. He’s got a wider receptive range than I have.”
A silver car slowed—barely—and whipped into the gravel lot, kicking up dust. It had barely stopped before Anna shut off the engine and climbed out. “Someone tell me this guy on the bike is with us.”
Kat bit her lip to hold back an entirely inappropriate laugh. “Yes.”
Patrick made a less showy entrance. He parked, dragged off his helmet and smoothed down his dark hair. “You drive like a maniac, lady.” It sounded like a compliment.
Anna rolled her eyes and started to turn toward him. “Yeah, I drive the way I…” The words faded away, and she snapped her mouth shut. “You’re lucky I didn’t shoot you.”