I bent down and checked the two vamps Jackson had knocked out for signs of awareness, but both were still unconscious. I tightened their leashes anyway, then headed out the now-broken front door. The night remained quiet, and the moon was hidden behind a bank of clouds. What few stars could be seen were unusually muted. It was almost as if they’d dimmed their brightness in respect for the death in the room behind me.

I couldn’t see Jackson anywhere, and if he was moving about, then he was doing so quietly. You found anything?

Pain slithered through my head even as I asked that question—a sharp warning that using our connection was indeed taking a toll. Nevertheless, it was stronger—more reliable—than it had been a few days ago, and that meant it was still gaining strength. It made me wonder just how far it would go—would we, perhaps, be able to do more than merely mind talk? Would we perhaps be able to sense the other’s presence, no matter where that person was? Rory and I certainly had that capability, though it was one we rarely needed or used.

Jackson didn’t reply, but after a few minutes, he appeared from the house next door. “Sorry for not responding, but all the mental talking is giving me one hell of a headache.”

“Did you find the wolves?”

“Yeah.” He scrubbed a hand across his chin, the sound like rough sandpaper. “Baker isn’t going to be happy.”

“They’re dead?”

“Not just dead, but absolutely torn apart. I found a dart near one of the bodies. The poor bastards didn’t have a chance.”

I thrust a hand through my hair. “How the fuck did Rinaldo know about the werewolf guards?” Because he had to have, if his men had come here prepared with darts.

“Baker either has a spy in his midst, or his office is bugged.”

“I can’t imagine it’d be a spy. He’s dealt with vampires for years; he’d be well aware of their tricks.”

By the same token, I couldn’t imagine he’d be naive enough to believe no one would bother bugging him. Not when it seemed to be a very common practice here in Melbourne. The lab I’d worked for—as well as many other private organizations that had governmental links—was regularly swept of bugging devices.

“We need to ring him.” Even as I said it, I pulled the phone out and did it. The minute he answered, I said, “It’s Emberly Pearson, and I’m afraid I have some bad news for you.”

He was silent for a moment, and then said, “My men are dead, aren’t they?”

“Yes. And they were darted before they were killed. Someone knew they were watching Shona and came prepared.”