night, but it was a little different seen through Cyrus’s eyes.
I’d kept getting saddled by the Corps with any and all cases involving Weres, supposedly because of my “special insight.” But the fact was that Mom rarely spoke about her other life, and she’d been so ill those last years that I’d hated to constantly bother her with my problems. I’d decided I needed an outside source, someone I could pay for insights into the Were world. And as luck would have it, a few days later a patrol logged a report about a brutal beating behind a bar involving an “unaffiliated Were” and members of a local clan. I’d gone to check it out.
It had been a night of surprises, starting with how I’d reacted. Cyrus was handsome enough to turn heads, but I’d met plenty of attractive men before. And none of them had made my stomach tighten at one glimpse, had need crawling over my skin, had my fingers itching with the urge to stroke. And when we kissed, heat and power, hunger and desire thrust into me in a wave of sensation that had left me reeling. I’d spent the entire evening—at a restaurant, because I didn’t dare take him home—quietly freaking out about my sudden lack of self-control.
It had also been a surprise to learn that he was vargulf . The report had seemed to suggest it, but most outcast wolves look like the guys I’d met in the drain. They weren’t hard-muscled types with thick dark hair and assessing brown eyes. And although the few I’d come across still smelled like Clan, there had always been a faintly sour undertone to it. Cyrus had smelled good , rich and male and musky-sweet.
I looked around and wondered what surprise I was supposed to find here.
I decided to start with the couch, because it was the most disgusting thing in the room and I wanted to get it out of the way. I’d already been over it once and had found nothing under the dust and ash except a few hundred cigarette butts shoved between the seats. The fire had eaten away one side, but given up halfway, probably because of the soggy state of the moldy cushions.
The remaining fabric was coming apart and a hole gnawed in one end raised the possibility of rats. I pushed my useless flashlight in there and rattled it around. Nothing ran out, so I formed a shield around my hand and poked it through the hole. And immediately felt something weird.
I pulled out a small velvet pouch that looked pretty new—no mold, no smoke damage, no bite marks—and opened it. Inside were three gold charms, each in the form of a miniscule wolf. All were different, all were beautifully made, and all were powerful. I could feel the hum of their energy even through the shield, a thrumming beat, almost like the pulse of tiny hearts.
Despite working with Caleb and Jamie for two weeks, I wasn’t an expert on wards. But I knew quality when I saw it. These had to be worth a small fortune, especially now, with prices inflated due to the war. So what the hell were they doing here? And what, if anything, did they have to do with Cyrus?
I wrapped them in one of my socks, having run out of handkerchiefs, and stuffed them in an inner pocket of my coat. I tagged the body on the way out, to let patrol know it was mine, and picked up the slug ward—now extra slimy—off the floor. I stuck it back on my skin without looking at it.
Calling in had to wait until I made it back to the mouth of the drain, where I was able to get decent reception. Caleb must have still been at lunch, because I actually got through.
“Sedgewick’s frothing at the mouth,” he told me, without so much as a hello. “The man is pissed .”
“He’s always pissed.”
“Yeah. Not like this. You need to get back here.”
“I’m working on that. By the way, have any licensed wardsmiths reported a robbery lately? A big one?”
“The Black Circle’s hit a few places,” he said slowly. “What are we talking about here?”
“Wolves. Powerful. Expensive. Three of them. I don’t know
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