The inspector ended her phone call and turned toward us. She was a tall, stout woman with thick black glasses and a stern, unforgiving expression. She was also a shifter of some kind, possibly a panther, if the luxurious gleam of her dark hair and the almost feline way she moved were anything to go by. I belatedly realized that this would explain her rather glib comment earlier about Rinaldo tugging the panther’s tail.

“I’m afraid the situation in Brooklyn has become somewhat more . . . difficult,” she said.

I crossed my arms and tried to ignore the chill that ran down my spine. “In what way?”

“Military specialists have been called in.”

Her expression gave little away, but it was pretty obvious she was less than happy about this development—and that she was complying with it only because she had very little choice in the matter.

“What kind of specialists?” Jackson asked.

“Ones used to dealing with paranormal threats on a scale such as this. Sam, however, is still in charge of the main operation, as he knows Brooklyn better than most.”

That was because he’d spent well over a year hunting in the place, killing as many of the cloaks as he could while endeavoring to find Luke. But in the end, it had been Sam who’d been hunted down and captured, and neither of us had been able to fulfill our vows to kill his brother. That honor had gone to whoever had been behind the long-range rifle that had blown his head apart.

And, for the first time, it made me wonder what information he might have given us. Was it just the location of the scientists the shooter had been trying to keep secret, or was there more?

“Knowing the area probably won’t help him get into the protected zone.” Thankfully, the tension and fear stirring inside me weren’t evident in my voice. “In fact, it’s possible even I won’t be able to get in.”

Which was an unlikely event, considering Rinaldo wanted us to retrieve whatever research materials might have been left behind.

“We’re aware of that,” the inspector said. “We still have to try.”

I like the use of the royal “we” in that sentence. Jackson’s mental tone was wry. It’s not like the inspector is actually going in herself.

I think she would if she thought she’d be of any use. The inspector might be a desk jockey now, but I suspected she’d been a very active—and successful—field agent in her younger years. She just had that air about her. “Is the military fully aware of what we might be confronted with in there?”

“Yes.” Her tone was clipped. “They know a dangerous virus is being contained within the area and that we are seeking two missing scientists.”