Woodbridge cut her off. “Did the recent attack feel stronger than the one at the tattoo establishment?” He’d taken out a small red leather notebook earlier, occasionally making a note in it. Mama Ami glared at Woodbridge as she dug into her purse. She took out a card, which she handed to Prisha. I didn’t have to look to know that it was one of Bay’s business cards.

Declan frowned. “It’s difficult to tell because of the dream state, but it felt about the same.”

Woodbridge’s pen made no sound as it moved smoothly across the paper. The pen looked elegant and heavy and probably cost more than my car payment. “Which means that with the help of the stones that practitioner”—he sneered slightly at that word, like he couldn’t quite bring himself to say “piercer” but wasn’t thrilled with labeling him a practitioner, either—“put in, it still felt the same, meaning the attack had been stronger.” His eyes lit up as he made notes. “Interesting.”

I couldn’t tell if Woodbridge’s disdain was for Will specifically or arcane piercing in general. I was sure that Will didn’t fit any of the criteria Woodbridge had for the kind of man he’d want his daughters to bring home. Then again, he didn’t want his daughters to bring anyone home, even themselves, so I’m not sure why it mattered.

I was so busy thinking about it that it took a second for what he’d said to register. “Wait, why is it interesting? How do you know the second attack was stronger?”

“Because both Eva and Campbell are closer, geographically, than they had been,” he said the words absently, almost to himself. “It’s to be expected that her attempts would be stronger, then, but of course we have so little data on this kind of bonding.” He made another note. “Simply fascinating.”

“Yes,” Prisha said, her voice icy. “Because it’s unethical, immoral, and inhumane, which is why we have so little data.”

Woodbridge ignored her, his pen skimming along the page.

“What do you mean, they’re ‘closer,’” Declan ground out, all gravel and growl. I grabbed his hand without thinking. Fear coursed through our bond, towing panic in its wake. I scooted closer, until his leg lined up against mine, our shoulders leaning against each other. Feeling me at his side, my scent in his nose, would help. He dipped his head, sucking in a breath.

“Yes,” Woodbridge said absently. “I reached out to the police and they’ve been sharing some information. They’ve had a few sightings that have been confirmed.”

I tried to calm myself, because that’s what Declan needed right now, but the sheer callousness of Woodbridge’s attitude made me see red. “And you didn’t think we needed to know?”

Woodbridge set his pen down. “I’m telling you now.”

“Do they know where we are?” Declan asked. “Eva and my father?” His voice was back to normal, but his muscles were tight. He was barely containing himself and I could hardly blame him.