I opened my mouth, but guilt zapped my voice.
"Savannah…" Lucas warned.
Her gaze clung to mine. "Remember the last time? You said you wouldn't leave. Not ever."
"Savannah-" Lucas's voice sharpened.
"We can work the case together. You've got all those new spells. You can protect me better than anyone. I trust you, Paige."
A right hook below the belt. I managed a strangled, "I-we-"
Lucas told her who'd be looking after her.
Savannah blinked, then eased back in her chair. "Well, why didn't you say so?" She took a swig of orange juice. "Hey, does this mean I get to skip school?"
After breakfast we returned to the airport to see Lucas off. As Savannah chatted with Troy, Lucas and I discussed my next steps in the case.
"The boy who was attacked first, Holden," I said. "He called the emergency line, too. Don't you think that's odd? That almost every victim had time to call for help before they were attacked? Jacob, I can see, because he had a cell phone. But the others?"
"I'd strongly consider the possibility that they were permitted to make the call, perhaps by prolonging the chase so they could reach a phone."
"But why?"
"It was already too late for help to arrive, so the killer was probably ensuring that the case remained under Cabal jurisdiction, and the victims weren't found by humans first. However, we should concentrate on facts, rather than interpretation. It's too early for that."
"Speaking of facts, I wish Holden saw his attacker." A thought struck me. "What we need is the eyewitness report of someone who wasn't supposed to escape. We need a necromancer."
Lucas shook his head. "A good idea, but murder victims are very difficult to communicate with so soon after they pass over, and on the rare occasion when a necromancer manages to make contact, the spirits are almost always too traumatized to recall details surrounding their death."
"I don't mean Jacob. I mean Dana. A good necromancer can make contact with someone in a coma."
"You're right, I'd forgotten that. Excellent idea. I have several necromancer contacts, all of whom owe me considerable favors. On the flight, I'll place some calls and see which of them could get to Miami quickest."
Visiting Hour
Before taking Savannah to the airport, the cabal guards had escorted her to our apartment to get more clothing. Benicio had also asked her to pack suitcases for Lucas and me, since we'd arrived in Miami with only one change of clothing. Considerate of him, I'll admit. I'd been too worried about Savannah to think of that myself. The only downside was that this meant Savannah picked out what she thought we should wear.
Lucas had taken his suitcase straight onto the jet without opening it, probably fearing that the look on his face when he glanced inside might make Savannah feel her efforts were underappreciated. Though Lucas owned very little in the way of casual clothing, I suspected every piece of it was in that bag, and not a single item suitable for court. I only hoped she'd thought to grab him some socks and underwear.
When I unpacked my bag, I saw that lack of undergarments wouldn't be a problem for me.
"What did you do, empty my entire lingerie drawer into the bag?" I said, untangling a web of bras.
"Course not. I don't think they make suitcases that big." She tugged a pair of garter straps from the bra-knot. "Do you actually wear these? Or are they just for sex?"
I grabbed the garters. "I wear them."
Of course, when I did wear them it was only because they improved a certain sexual advantage of wearing skirts, one that was very awkward to accomplish with full nylons. That, however, wasn't a tidbit I was sharing with anyone-well, other than Lucas, but he already knew.
"You promised me I'd get stuff like this when I went to high school," she said, lifting a pair of green silk panties.
"I promised no such thing."
"I mentioned it, and you didn't say no. That's the same as promising. Do you know how embarrassing it is changing in a locker room, having the girls see me wearing cotton grannies?"
"All the more reason to keep you wearing them. If it embarrasses you to have girls see them, it'd be even more embarrassing to have guys see them. Like a modern-day chastity belt."
"I hate you." She fell back, spread-eagled onto the bed, then lifted her head. "You know, if you won't get them for me, I might sneak behind your back and buy my own. That'd be bad."
"You gonna start doing laundry, too?"
"As if!"
"Then I'm not worried."
Someone knocked at the door. Savannah vaulted from the bed and was out of the room before I could stuff my handful of lingerie into a drawer. I heard Savannah's shout of greeting and knew who it was.
"Paige is in the bedroom putting away her underwear," Savannah said. "It'll take a while."
I grabbed another handful.
"Shit," said a voice behind me. "She's not kidding. What'd you do, rob a lingerie store?"
There stood the world's only female werewolf, a title that sounds more like it should describe a circus freak show than the blond woman in the doorway. Tall and lean, Elena Michaels had a werewolf's typically athletic build, and the kind of wholesome good looks that cause men to say things like, "Wow, if she dolled herself up, she could be a knockout." Those who dared say such things, though, were more likely to find themselves knocked out.
Today Elena wore a T-shirt, cutoff jean shorts, and sneakers, with her long silver-blond hair tied back in an elastic band and maybe, just maybe, lip gloss… and looked a helluva lot better than I did after hours of grooming. Not that I'm envious or anything. Oh, did I mention she was thirty-two and looked mid-twenties? Or that she can eat a sixteen-ounce porterhouse steak and not gain an ounce? Werewolves get all the goodies: extended youth, extreme metabolism, sharpened senses, and superstrength. And, yeah, I'm envious.
Still, if I can't have a werewolf's gifts, I'll take a werewolf as a friend. Being part wolf makes them extremely loyal and protective… which made Elena the only person to whom I'd entrust Savannah.
Elena surveyed the mess of lingerie scattered across the bed. "I'm not even sure where half that stuff goes."
Savannah zoomed past Elena, jumped on the bed, grabbed a bra, and held it up to her chest.
"This one's mine," Savannah said, grinning. "Can't you tell?"
Elena laughed. "Maybe in a few years."
Savannah snorted. "At the rate I'm going, it'll take a few years plus a few pairs of socks. I'm the only girl in the ninth grade who still wears a training bra."
"I was still wearing one in tenth grade, so I've got you beat." Elena bent down to pick up a negligee I'd dropped. "Expecting to spend a lot of time alone with Lucas, I see."
"I wish," I said. "He's already headed back to Chicago. Savannah packed my clothes, and I do hope there are clothes in this bag somewhere."
"At the bottom," Savannah said.
I shoved the last of the lingerie into a drawer, then stuffed the half-packed suitcase into the closet and turned to Elena. I resisted the urge to hug her. Elena wasn't the hugs-and-kisses type. Even fleeting physical contact, like handshakes, made her vaguely uncomfortable, though nowhere near as uncomfortable as they made someone else… which made me realize someone was missing from this reunion.
"Where's Clay?" I said. "Waiting in the car? Hoping he can avoid saying hello to me?"
"Hello, Paige," came a Southern drawl from the living room.
"Hello, Clayton."
I popped my head around the bedroom door. Elena's partner, Clayton Danvers, was standing by the window, his back to me, likely not an unconscious gesture. Like Elena, Clay was blond-haired, blue-eyed, and well built. While Elena was attractive, Clay was traffic-stopping gorgeous… and had all the charm of a pit viper.