“We don’t have a couple of hours,” Robert said, his eyes still closed. “D’Ambray is coming.”

And soon, too. We’d been inside the chapterhouse for about fifteen minutes. Everything I had read about the wendigo said they regenerated in anywhere from five minutes to half an hour, depending on the magnitude of the magic wave. We hadn’t had the time to cut it into little pieces and then burn them. As soon as his wendigo got on its feet, Hugh would come. I had taunted him, and my ward had kicked his ass. He wouldn’t let it go.

“D’Ambray would be an idiot to attack the Order,” Diana said.

“We’ve got backup coming in,” Mauro said. “I’ve talked to the knight-protector. Ted reached out to the Paranormal Activity Division and the National Guard.”

Neither the PAD nor the National Guard would get here in time.

“We’ve fought one of them before,” Mauro said. “It was me, Kate, and Nash, and we all lived through it.”

We had lived through it, because I was one of “them.” Pointing that out wasn’t in my best interests. “Let me out. I’ll fight with you.”

“Sorry, Kate.” Mauro grimaced. “Orders are orders.”

“Kate,” Maxine’s voice said in my head.

“Yes?”

“I’m being evacuated out of the office. I’m instructed to stay within my range so I can make a full report of what happens.”

Ted was expecting trouble.

“Thank you for your help,” I whispered. “I truly appreciate it.”

“I know, dear. I’m very sorry you left. It hasn’t been the same without you and Andrea.”

Heavy steps came down the stairs and Ted Moynohan walked into the room. The knight-protector had aged since I last saw him. He’d been in his early fifties when we met. Now he seemed closer to sixty. He was built thick and had gotten thicker. The layer of fat was deceiving—there was hard, powerful muscle underneath—and Ted didn’t look soft. He looked like a heavyweight fighter who had let himself go a bit. He wore blue jeans, a gray shirt, cowboy boots, and a belt with a buckle that had illusions of grandeur. A black cowboy hat sat on his head, and if it got real hot, he could shelter a gaggle of street orphans in its shade.

Ted stopped by my cage and peered at me, his square jaw locked. I looked back. He would do me no favors and I expected none.

“Here you are in a cage, Daniels. I always knew you’d end up in one.”

I didn’t answer. If he got it all off his chest, I’d have a better chance of making him understand what was coming.

“You put the Consort of the Pack in a cage,” Robert said.