No. I hadn’t exactly intended to get into a firefight when I’d hired the damn thing, not when I had Rory to look after. How would either be an advantage right now?

Earth fae can sense the presence of others by their weight on the earth, and air fae can hear the whispers of breath on the wind. He paused. Sweat beaded his forehead, but I wasn’t entirely sure it was caused by the effort of communicating silently. Mind speech might remain difficult between us, but I suspected the sweat had more to do with the fury and fear that burned inside of him. Shall we split?

I hesitated. It made sense to split up, but I was reluctant to do so, if only because he’d need me close if those inner fires got the better of his currently tenuous control.

I’m okay, he said, obviously sensing my concern. It won’t get away from me.

Not until he had someone to unleash on, at any rate. But I kept that comment to myself and motioned to the right. I’ll tackle that side.

He nodded and moved toward the car that sat still and empty in the driveway. I scanned the front windows as I went right, but there wasn’t much to see other than the sliver of light lining either side of that one window. The other two also had blinds down, so if someone was inside, they’d have as little hope of seeing me as I did them.

Car is locked, but the hood is warm, Jackson said. She hasn’t been home long.

Meaning if the vamps had attacked Shona, they’d been here, waiting for her.

I grabbed the top of the fence that divided the front yard from the back and pulled myself up, pausing at the top to scan the nearby area. No shadows, no dogs, and no sense of the werewolves who should have been here.

Fire briefly flickered across my fingertips, tiny sparks that spun into the darkness and quickly disappeared. I flexed my hands as I dropped to the ground, trying to ease the tension. This time, it was all mine, not an overflow from Jackson. I walked to the first of three windows situated along this side of the house and, my back pressed against bricks still warm from the day’s sunshine, carefully peered inside. The room beyond was filled with boxes, some of them emptied, some of them still sealed with packing tape. There was no evidence of anything out of place or, indeed, any sort of fighting.

Maybe Rinaldo had been bluffing. Maybe he only intended to make us fear the possibility of death. But even as that thought crossed my mind, I dismissed it. Everything we’d learned about the man—and that was little enough—suggested he wasn’t a vampire who pulled his punches.