“For Graeson there is.” He studied me with a clinical air that left me chilled. “For you…for this…I need something else, something different.”

I sank my fingers into Graeson’s lush pelt. “Why don’t you spell it out for me.”

Dell snorted. “You told a witch to spell it out.”

I elbowed her in the side. “You’re not helping.”

Overhead the planks groaned, and all eyes rolled toward the ceiling. I jumped to my feet at the heavy thump that followed. Miguel blurred past before I could ask what the sound meant, but Enzo caught him by the shoulder.

“I’ve got this. I’ll get Isabella back in bed. She was probably curious about the voices and went to look out the window.” He jerked his chin toward us. “You finish up down here.”

We reclaimed our seats, the quiet pervasive, until Miguel spoke. “My wife is unwell.” His fingers tapped out a hasty rhythm on his knee. “I don’t have long to entertain offers, and I don’t have time for coyness.” He snared my gaze. “I want your blood.”

I recoiled, and Dell scooted closer. “My…blood.”

“My wife is a warg. You’re a shape-shifter of a different sort. You control your shifts. If I can isolate the strains of magic that make that possible, I can create a vaccine. She could do partial shifts when the moon calls to soothe her inner beast.” His voice went distant. “It’s not a cure, but it’s a hope for a better patch than any I’ve created so far.”

Blood was power. A lot of bad spells used it as both fuel and homing beacon. Whatever magic was twisted from my blood would rebound on me if the brothers misused even a drop.

“You’re asking for a lot.” Not just blood but trust too.

“You want the mermaid located while she’s still sane, I assume.” His tone was merciless. “There’s not much time left for that.”

I gritted my teeth. “Tell me about Butler, Tennessee first.”

“Butler. That sounds familiar. Let me check my records.” He held out a hand, and a ledger materialized there. When he set it in his lap, it flipped to a page near the center of its spine, and he marked a passage with his finger. “I’ll give you my oath your blood won’t be used for harm or against you. One vial is all I need. Promise me that, and I’ll read you the transcription word for word.”

Oaths were binding when sealed with magic. It was as safe an offer as he could make me. “I accept.”

“The creature walks among mortals. As death wears many faces, so must he.” Miguel’s shoulders relaxed as he read from the journal. “He is hunger, his cravings unending. This world will perish at the edge of his teeth. Butler, Tennessee will bear the brunt of that first bite.”