“No, but I drop him off at the same spot every time.”

  “Why don’t you take him to the cabin?”

  “I dunno. I just do what he says.”

  “Did you take him this last time?”

  “No, but I kinda hoped I hadn’t missed him.”

  “Which was why you were patrolling nearby,” I said.

  “Right.”

  “When do you usually take him up to the cabin?”

  “Usually two days before, sometimes three.”

  “Will you take me to the cabin, too?”

  His eyes flicked over me and he smiled. “Of course, Samantha Moon.”

  “And after you take me to the woods, I want you to forget we had this conversation.”

  He gave me an easy smile. “I’ll do my best.”

  And with that, I slipped into the front passenger seat of the Prius and we were off.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  I checked the time: just past 2 p.m.

  Sunset was in four hours, and it was a two-hour drive up to Big Bear, which was higher and further back than Arrowhead. I thought about that as we drove, then nodded. Yes, Gunther kidnapped them in Arrowhead...and then brought them back to Big Bear.

  He has a vehicle up there, I thought.

  Why he left his car in Orange County, I didn’t know. I suspected it was an attempt to cover his tracks. Of course, the Lyft drivers themselves might start getting suspicious. I had a thought.

  “Are you aware of any Lyft drivers disappearing?”

  Paulo was still feeling the effects of my earlier mental prompting, and so he answered easily enough. “Two of them over the past few months, actually. Both were found killed in their cars. Both in Orange County. There’s a running joke that being a Lyft driver in Orange is the new most dangerous job.”

  I nodded. The bastard was covering his tracks there, too.

  As my own Lyft ride commenced, he drove through Orange and headed for the 22 Freeway. I imagined Gunther standing on, say, a boulder, overlooking a popular—or perhaps not-so-popular—hiking trail, and hunting his next target.

  Perhaps he used a tranquilizer gun. Or perhaps he used a real gun, and shot them in, say, the foot. Or perhaps he ambushed them or trapped them or lured them into his car.

  I didn’t know, and it wasn’t important how he found them. Since none had survived, I might never know. What mattered was stopping him from preying on the innocent. From killing tonight.

  And ever again.

  My own entity, of course, would prefer me to kill and maim and torture and to control. And, if I gave her half a chance, she would possess me fully and do it for me.

  It did take some fortitude to take on these entities, to fight against them...and to not give in.

  Had Kingsley given in? Was he weak by allowing the thing within him to feast on the rotted deer carcass? Maybe, maybe not. I didn’t know just how far Kingsley had let the entity out. Maybe they had come to some agreement: if Kingsley feeds it what it most wants, perhaps it lets him live a normal enough life. Not feasting on a human corpse was, perhaps, Kingsley drawing the line. Maybe.

  I didn’t know, but what I did know was this: there would be no agreement between myself and Elizabeth, the woman inside me, the woman who fueled me, the highly evolved dark master...and perhaps the highest evolved of them all.

  No compromise. No getting out, ever.

  The bitch picked the wrong person.

  Moving on. Admittedly, I was nervous as hell to confront Gunther, even if he was half the size of Kingsley. Either way, he was going to be trouble. Perhaps more trouble than I was ready for. I patted my purse next to me, which concealed the Smith & Wesson. This gave me some comfort. Not much, but enough.

  I considered calling Allison for backup. She might be needy as hell sometimes—even dingy—but man, oh man, was that girl a force to be reckoned with.

  Still, I thought, chewing my lip as we eased onto the freeway, there was no way in hell I was going to expose her to the ferociousness of a werewolf. No, she was out. Fang could be of help—a lot of help. I pulled out my phone and clicked on the messenger and nearly sent him a text.

  No, I thought. He would be weak all the way up to sundown. Truth was, I was weak, too, although not as weak as before, back when I didn’t own the ring. I was operating, I suspected, at about eighty percent, which wasn’t that bad. The problem being, of course, when I got to full strength at sundown, Gunther would be fully turned, too. And he would be at full strength, as well.

  And a full-blown werewolf.

  Another thing: I was feeling a tad guilty about my time with Fang the other night. Yes, he had talked me down and given me the world’s best advice on how to beat the thing within me, but I was still feeling some guilt about us in my bedroom, holding hands.

  I would tell Kingsley about it. He would understand. I hoped.

  With all of that settled in my mind, I planned to get to Big Bear well before Gunther turned. Of course, I still had to find his kill cabin, which I highly doubted doubled as an observatory, as purported.

  So I settled back for the two-hour drive, mentally going through how I would face a partially-turned werewolf, when my phone rang.

  Restricted number. These days, that was never a good sign.

  “Moon Investigations,” I said.

  “Sam, it’s Sherbet.”

  “Do you always refer to yourself by your last name, Detective?”

  “Almost always. We have your daughter.”

  I sat up. “What do you mean?”

  “We found her in the park, drunk as a skunk. You need to come get her.”

  Chapter Thirty-five

  I had Paulo alter our course and we headed out to Fullerton along the 57 Freeway.

  Now, with the Lyft driver waiting for me outside—I might have compelled him to wait for me, I didn’t, after all, want to lose him—I found my daughter in Sherbet’s office, sitting before his desk with her head buried in her arms, as a female officer stroked her hair. Sherbet himself sat back in his desk and didn’t look too happy. Then again, I couldn’t remember the last time Detective Sherbet looked too happy.

  “We found her in Hillcrest Park, drinking with her buddies.”

  “Who found her?”

  “One of our boys. We got a report of some kids drinking and smoking and making general asses of themselves. Turned out to be true. The others scattered like frightened fish. This one tried to scatter. Turned out she was too drunk to scatter, and instead, fell flat on her face. Don’t worry, she’s okay. Just a few scrapes.”

  Tammy moaned, her face still buried in her arms.

  I thanked the female officer, who gave Tammy a final pat, and gave me a consoling smile, then got up and left. I had a distinct impression that the officer had been there before, with her own kids.

  I took the seat next to my daughter, except I very much didn’t feel like stroking her head. It was all I could do to not chew her ass out. I took a few deep breaths.

  Easy, Sam, came Sherbet’s telepathic words.

  I’m too pissed off to be easy about anything, I shot back, and she can hear you, so be careful.

  He nodded, then said aloud, “Should have figured.”

  “Is she still drunk?” I asked.

  “My guess: yes. We probably should have had her checked out at St. Jude’s.” He shrugged. “She didn’t look sick and responded well enough.”

  “Can you leave us alone?” I asked him.

  “You do realize that I’m a busy homicide investigator, right? And the busy part isn’t necessarily a good thing.”

  Please, I thought to him.

  He sighed and his cop mustache fluttered a little. Then he hefted his thickish body from behind the desk and made his way toward the door.

  “Thickish?” he said.

  “You know what I meant,” I said.

  He might have sighed again, and then left us alone, shutting his office door behind him.

  Chapter Thirty-six

  I checked the time...2:30. Less than four hours.

  “Less than four hours for what, Mom?” asked Tammy, her face still buried in her arms.

  “Never mind that,” I said, and threw up a mental wall about all things wolfish.

  “You’re hiding something, Mo—”

  “Never mind what I’m hiding, young lady. Do you care to explain yourself?”

  “No. And quit shouting. My head...”

  The stench of beer wafted from her as well as the blood from the scrapes on her face. Like a shark, I can smell fresh blood within a few dozen feet. Not always a good thing, especially in a room full of women.

  “Gross, Mom,” said Tammy, obviously following my thoughts.

  “Don’t change the subject, young lady.”

  “Hey, you’re the one talking about—”

  “Never mind that, Tamara Moon,” I said, using her full name, which meant that I meant business.

  Instead, she giggled. “Relax, Mom. Sheesh. Everyone drinks a little—”

  I moved her chair around to face me, dragging it easily with one hand over the carpet. Tammy, whose head had been propped up on the desk, pitched forward, “Hey!”

  “Don’t ‘hey’ me, and look at me when I’m talking to you.”

  She did, and for the first time, I saw her bloodshot eyes and puffy lower lip. I stood and paced in Sherbet’s office, glancing at the clock overhead. 2:45. I didn’t have time for this...and yet, I had to make the time.

  “How long have you been drinking?”

  She shrugged. “A few months now.”

  “Where do you get the alcohol?”

  “Friends. Friends of friends. Mostly we steal it from—”

  I spun around and nearly yanked her to her feet...at a police station, no less. Inside a clear glass office, no less. Sherbet, who was talking on his cell phone in a nearby cubicle, raised a hand and lowered it, motioning for me to calm down. Good advice.

  “Relax, Mom. Sheesh. We didn’t steal from stores. Just from parents, mostly.”

  “Have you stolen from me?”

  She looked away, “Maybe a bottle...”

  “Tammy!”

  “...or two,” she finished.

  I sat again and ran my fingers through my hair and knew I was making a scene. I had to calm down about this. Then again, I’d never faced anything like this before—whatever this was. Teenage rebellion? Jesus, she was barely a teen. If this was a taste of what I was in for...well, I was in trouble.

  “Relax, Mom—”

  “You tell me to relax again, and so help me God, I will bend you over my knee right here—”

  “No, you won’t. You would never embarrass Sherbet like that...and risk going to jail, even though I don’t think any jail could hold you.”

  “Don’t talk back to me, young lady. And don’t tell me what I will and won’t do.”

  “Okay, sorry, geez.”

  “And don’t ‘geez’ me.”

  “Okay, I won’t geez you,” she said, and broke into a grin, and for some damn reason, I broke into a grin, too. She knew she had me, and she knew how to push, too. “Who would ever want to geez you anyway.”

  I laughed, and said, “Okay, stop. Now I’m looking really bad.”

  “It’s no big deal, Mom. Everyone does it, and I like to do it. It’s fun to drink. I know why Auntie and you like to drink now, and all the adults in all of the commercials. It makes sense—”

  “Just stop,” I said, holding my head and resuming my pacing. I looked at the time: 2:52. “How do you feel?”

  “Buzzed.”

  To hear my little girl tell me she felt “buzzed” was enough to drive me to drink. “We’re going to talk about this later. Get your stuff, let’s go.”

  And we went, this time detouring toward my sister’s house in Placentia, which was next door to Fullerton. My sister was gonna be thrilled to see us. I texted her brief details and she texted back her confirmation to bring Tammy. Gotta love Mary Lou. She was my right-hand woman.

  Meanwhile, my daughter slept it off, while Paulo, our Lyft driver, drove steadily, sometimes casting sideways glances my way, and in the rearview mirror at my daughter snoozing in the back seat.

  We dropped off Tammy with a stern Mary Lou and then continued toward the original destination.

  I checked the time: an hour wasted.

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  “This is it,” said Paulo.

  “This is where you drop off Gunther?”

  “Yup.”

  “Every time?”

  “Yup.”

  “And is this where the others drop him off, too?”

  “I wouldn’t know that.”

  I briefly scanned Paulo’s thoughts and took a look at his aura. He was telling the truth. We were parked on a side road that had ended as soon as it began. Massive cement blocks, connected with thick cables, barred the way further. The drive had been speedy enough. We had, in fact, made decent time. I checked my cell.

  5:20.

  I had just over an hour to find his cabin, find him, stop him, and save Elise Stanley.

  All in a day’s work, I thought, then turned to my driver. I commanded him to forget me, forget our conversation and forget about this tip. He would, I knew, still get paid for his efforts, even if he didn’t remember his efforts. My account would be charged for the trip, so he would at least get something out of this, even if it was a big hole in his memory.

  When he was gone, I found myself alone at the end of the blockaded street.

  We had very much gone off the beaten path. Indeed, we had taken at least a half-dozen roads to get to this one. In fact, the two roads before this road had both been dirt, including this one.

  Few, if anyone, would have known about this spot.

  I checked the sun, and knew instinctively it was about an hour before it set. The day was still warm, but I was wearing jeans and a gray tank top. I let some air in the tank top, and kind of wished I could let some air in the jeans, too, but decided that would be unseemly, even for me.

  Additionally, I was not at full strength, but neither was I shrinking away from the sun. I felt, in fact, pretty damn good. In about an hour, I would feel pretty damn great.

  I doubted Gunther—or Kingsley—would feel pretty damn great in an hour. I suspected they sort of lost their minds for a while, or shrank so far into the background that they might as well have been frightened children hiding in a closet from their abusive parents.

  The air was infused with pine and juniper, scents I love. A small wind moved some of the branches overhead, where birds tweeted continuously, apparently unaware of the 140-character limit.

  I wasn’t what you would call an outdoorsman or a master tracker, but I could see footprints in the dirt with the best of them. And I saw them now. Boot prints. Men’s boots. How old, I didn’t know, but my guess was within the past few days.

  I didn’t see another print, and certainly not a female’s. Which suggested that this was only Gunther’s Lyft drop-off point. From here, he hiked. To where, I didn’t know. But to another vehicle, I suspected. And, of course, to a kill cabin.

  With the sun now slipping behind the massive evergreens, I stepped over the cable barring the dirt road...and followed the prints.

  At some point, I started jogging lightly, easily.

  Not too much further, the footprints ended in a field of grass and I lost his trail. I looked for any telltale signs of beaten-down grass or a trail that might have picked up elsewhere. I didn’t find it.

  The wind was blowing stronger now, flattening the grass. I spied the full moon above, creeping up from the distant horizon. It was getting darker, and I was losing hope, until I realized I had, of course, an ace up my sleeve.

  Speaking of sleeves, I disrobed, bundled up my clothing, and summoned the single flame.

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  I was flying.

  I also wasn’t too worried about being caught. After all, I was in a very remote part of the mountains, and the day was losing light rapidly, too rapidly for my taste.

  Was there really a woman being held against her will, waiting to be feasted on? Even now, was she perhaps watching a man stalk and pace before her, slowly shape-changing throughout the day, and now, undoubtedly, much faster?

  Hard to believe...but it was all adding up.

  I didn’t need to know that I was down to the last twenty minutes. Hell, from up here and above the trees, I could see the sun slipping away to the west.

  My clothing hung in a bundle below me on my talons, all stuffed into my purse, along with the gun and silver bullets.

  I ranged far and wide, buffeted by wind, sometimes sailing, sometimes flapping hard. All while I searched with eyes that were a lot better than my own. From up here, I saw trash on the ground. I even saw mice scurrying. I saw rabbits and lizards, all while flying hundreds of feet above.

  Still, I was losing hope.

  Maybe Sheriff Stanley’s wife had been found. Maybe Elise really was missing in a traditional sort of way. Why did I jump to the conclusion that she had, in fact, gone missing for nefarious reasons?

  The clues were all there. A missing hiker. The full moon. A werewolf on the run. It was all leading me here. To where, exactly, I didn’t know, and soon, it wouldn’t matter. In about fifteen minutes, the werewolves of California would be fully transitioned and, from what I knew, out of their minds with blood lust. In fifteen minutes, all of this would be a moot point, unless I saw some sign of Gunther’s kill cabin.

  And when the sun had gotten to the ten-minute mark, I saw something flash in a valley far below, a valley very nearly hidden beneath a canopy of trees. A flickering flame. I circled it, trying to get a bead on it, but it was mostly hidden at the bottom of two sheer rock walls.

  And that’s when someone screamed.

  I tucked in my great, leathery wings, and dove.

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  The canopy was too thick for my wingspan.

  I alighted, instead, on an overhanging rock that afforded me a view into the narrow valley—and what I saw couldn’t have been more strange.