Calling Vause was reflex. I would have done it without thought. Cut off from that access, I had time to think about the fact the witches had been right. One scale had given them Charybdis’s location. How many scales must the conclave have in evidence by now? How much other organic detritus that could power a divination or locator spell? So why hadn’t they found him? Stopped him? Why was he allowed to continue on unchecked? Why bother with the ruse of a cleanup crew at all if they had no intentions of capturing him?

The circle must be the key. If Charybdis was being allowed to hunt, then it meant one thing. The conclave wanted that circle set, but why? As a magistrate, Vause was in this plot up to her neck, she had to be. That meant I couldn’t trust her with the kelpie’s whereabouts. Not until I understood the stakes of the game we all played. For now Graeson and I would see this through, together, and we would decide how to handle the beast once we captured it.

Fae were an invasive species as far as most wargs were concerned. Even without the urge to avenge his sister riding him, Graeson didn’t strike me as the kind of man who would risk turning the kelpie over to the conclave for punishment. He was mistrustful of them and would take matters into his own claws if I didn’t stop him first. The problem being I was having trust issues myself.

A honey-colored wolf ranged in wide circles, stopping now and then to move in for a scratch between the ears before darting off in pursuit of rodents. I had left exploration of the lake to the pack and headed inland on the off chance the kelpie had decided to flee the area after its brazen display. What had been the point of revealing itself? What was it trying to tell us? Show us? Or was I being paranoid, and it simply happened to cross our path?

Yeah. Right.

I lumbered over soggy ground and prayed the snakes kept to themselves. There were water moccasins in the area. The wargs had killed one near the porch. It was a petty concern in the grand scheme of things, but fearing the burn of venom from their bite helped distract from the sound of lapping waves and the fact mud slurped at my boots because I was in spitting distance of a massive body of water.

The ocean roared. Sand caked my feet. Lori screamed.

I crammed the past down before it choked me, and carried on.