I knew that something was wrong by the look on the face of the werewolf who opened the door to the Pack’s safe house. The Pack owned several properties in the city, and after we were done clapping and cheering at the sight of Ghastek’s complete and utter failure, Curran and I had made a beeline for the nearest one to wash the undead nastiness off. The magic had fallen and with technology once again reasserting its grip on the world, Curran was eager to trade the cart for a Pack Jeep.

When the male werewolf opened the door, his eyes had that particular look to them that meant some catastrophe had happened.

“What is it?” Curran growled.

The werewolf licked his lips.

“Out with it,” Curran said.

“Andrea Nash has been seen in the city, interviewing business owners.”

“She is frequently in the city,” I said. “And interviewing is her job. She’s investigating some murders for the Pack.” Which I would look into as soon as we got Roderick out of that damned necklace.

The werewolf took a small step back. “She’s doing it in her beastkin shape.”

“Come again?”

“She’s walking around in her beastkin shape. And some clothes.”

All unaffiliated shapeshifters within the Pack’s borders were required to present themselves to the Pack within three days. Until now, the Pack had been able to deny all knowledge that Andrea was a shapeshifter, mostly because Curran made a very public point of ignoring it and nobody cared to bring it up.

Well, he couldn’t ignore it any longer. Andrea had pretty much made sure of that.

It made no sense. Andrea almost never used her beastkin shape. In fact, she pretended to be human most of the time. Going out in her fur and claws for her would be equivalent to me taking off my clothes and parading through the city naked.

Something had happened. Something really bad.

I looked at Curran. “I guess we’d better go back to the office.”

I walked through the office doors carrying a vampire’s head smeared in green sunblock. I had picked it up after the draugr had punted it out of the ward zone. It was beginning to smell and needed to be buried in ice ASAP.

Andrea sat at her desk. She was wearing her beastkin shape, a perfect meld of human and hyena. It was a shape that could get her killed. Andrea’s father was a hyenawere, an animal who turned into a human. That made her beastkin, and many older shapeshifters would want to murder her on sight.

“Want” being the operative word. Andrea could take care of herself. On top of that, I would help her, and Curran had made it plain that this was a prejudice he would not tolerate. He was waiting outside now in a parking lot a block away. I had asked him to give us a few minutes.