“Aw, shit. Listen, I don’t know any Sandy Boyle, but the packs are fragmented these days. Most of us are laying low. Some of the young pups have been grumbling about fighting back against the humans. The older wolves are keeping ’em in line so far, but that ain’t gonna last forever. They’ve been turning more of your lot, too. Plenty of humans want the strength and sexiness of being a werewolf. Truth be told, some of us think it’s a good idea to boost our numbers for whatever comes next.”

Sandy Boyle could have been a relatively new convert, headstrong and caught up in the flush of power. “What about a group called Vanguard?”

“Where’d you hear that name?” he asked cautiously.

“A fellow from the FBI mentioned it.”

His voice dropped a full octave, not quite a growl. “You’re working for the feds now?”

“You know better, Jeff.”

“Helen and I, we’ve learned not to take things for granted these days.” Jeff sighed. “Early this year, we got a call from a fellow who said he was with Vanguard. He gave us the heads-up to get out of Tamarack. Offered to help us relocate somewhere safe.”

“So you’ve worked with them?”

“Nah. We don’t need no outsiders to help us find a home. But it’s thanks to them we had time to gather up our belongings and vacate before the National Guard showed up with guns and bulldozers. Otherwise, things would’ve gotten a lot uglier.”

“Thanks, Jeff. Now what’s this Helen was saying about a heart attack?”

“Helen talks too much. She—ow! Dammit, I’m on the phone! I’m fine, but I’m not a pup anymore. The first week of running around and howling at the moon damn near did me in.”

“Why the hell didn’t you call me?” I knew why. Jeff’s pride was going to get him killed one of these days.

“Doc called it a minor incident. As long as I lay off the burgers and ribs from Emma’s Diner and stick with meat I catch myself, I should be fine.”

“You’re not fine, you stubborn son of a bitch,” Helen shouted. “And if you skip your pills one more time, I’ll grab you by the scruff of the neck and shove them down your throat!”

I smothered a laugh. “Jeff, if you have any more trouble, so much as a damn twinge, you call me, got it? Otherwise I’ll come up there right now and microchip you like a runaway Chihuahua so I can keep tabs on you.”

“Chihuahua. Now that’s good eating.”

“Jeff . . .”

“Yah, fine, whatever. ’Sides, I thought you weren’t allowed to do your healing mojo on folks.”

“Not on humans. What are you going to do, turn me over to the cops?”