Once he’d made himself comfortable on the thin mattress, I slammed the back door closed, then climbed into the driver’s seat and started the car up. “There’re protein bars and a couple of energy drinks in the backpack.”

He dragged the pack closer and opened it up. “Whatever did we do before modern food manufacturing?”

“Snacked on beef jerky and drank unrefined cows’ milk boosted with raw eggs.”

“Which is probably the reason I hate both with a passion today.” He tore open the protein bar and began munching on it. “Except, of course, when said milk is combined with either brandy or rum in the form of eggnog. How many days have I missed?”

I checked the mirror for oncoming cars, even though encountering any was unlikely on such an off-the-beaten track, then did a U-turn and headed down to the main road.

“Three. I had to wait for a hot enough day to perform the ceremony.”

He snorted softly. “If Melbourne can be relied on for anything, it’s weather that does not do what you want.”

“Yeah.” There were other reasons, of course, such as the Paranormal Investigations Team—a specialist squad of humans and supernaturals who worked outside the regular police force to solve crimes that involved paranormals—wanting a full and detailed debriefing before they’d let Jackson and me go. Then there was the problem of ensuring we weren’t being followed—one we solved by Jackson and me temporarily going our separate ways. He returned to the offices of Hellfire Investigations—the PI agency we jointly owned and ran—while I followed the example of so many of our enemies of late, using the stormwater system to get out of Melbourne unseen.

“What happened in Brooklyn after I was shot?” Rory said.

“Nothing. We just ran.” Or rather, left as quickly as any of us were able, given we were all more than a little broken and bloody by that time.

“And you haven’t heard from either Sam or Jackson since?”

“I talked to Jackson yesterday. I’m meeting him in Seymour tonight if he can get away without being followed.” I had no idea what Sam might be doing. He hadn’t exactly been communicative since I’d stepped back into his life. He might be one of PIT’s top investigators, he might be chasing the same damn things we were, but he’d generally dealt with me only when and where necessary.

“Is that wise?” Concern edged Rory’s voice.

“Probably not, but it’s not as if we have another option. There are still too many things we need to do.”