“I wish you wouldn’t try,” my father said evenly. So I nodded once. Decisively.

“Fine. I’ll go.” I swear every eyebrow in the room shot up and a couple of jaws dropped. They didn’t have to look so surprised. I wasn’t such a shrew, was I? “Where are we going?”

“If it wasn’t such a long drive—and through the free zone—we’d send you to Bert’s place.” Umberto Di Carlo ran his territory from a suburb north of Atlanta. But since Manx wasn’t a legal citizen, and had no ID, we couldn’t fly. “For now, head north to Henderson and get a room. We’ll be in touch with more concrete plans soon.” Fortunately, we all kept fully charged backup batteries for our cell phones, just in case. A lesson we’d learned the hard way.

“Okay,” I said, and my father sighed in relief. I turned toward the hall to see Kaci standing in the doorway, clutching her votive. “Get packed, Whiskers. We’re going on a road trip.”

Thirteen

Manx was getting out of the shower when I got to my room, so I filled her in while she stood in the middle of my floor, her hair dripping on her robe as ever-leaping shadows moved over her face. She listened with her dark brows drawn low, her mouth a grim, straight line. The spark of irritation in her eyes said she’d rather stay and fight, but the twitch in her arm—as if she wished she were holding her baby—said she knew she could no longer protect her son on her own.

I couldn’t stand to see her so…powerless. Dependent. And I knew well how close I’d come to sharing her fate. Or worse.

Manx cleared her throat, and I made myself face her silent suffering. “Twenty minutes. I will pack.” Then she was gone.

I shoved the essentials into my bag, then grabbed my candle and headed for our former guest room to check on Kaci. On the way, I stopped in the doorway to the guest bathroom, where Lucas sat on a bar stool brought in from the kitchen. My mother was wrapping the ankle he had propped on the closed toilet seat by the light of several candles, while Brian Taylor applied a clear, goopy ointment to my cousin’s shoulders.

Which looked like they’d almost been ripped from his body.

Three deep punctures pierced his skin below each collarbone where the talons had gripped him, and a fourth had apparently been driven through both his shoulder blades, completing the bird’s grip in the back.

“Shit, Lucas!” I set my bag down in the hall and stepped into the bathroom for a closer look. My mother frowned over my profanity, but didn’t look up from her work.

“Yeah.” Lucas glanced at his reflection, then down at me. Even seated on the stool, he was a good six inches taller than I was. “Looks nasty, huh?” He flinched as Brian worked on his left shoulder.

“They carried Kaci a lot higher and farther than they did you. How come she doesn’t look like this?” Brian asked, dabbing more ointment on the torn skin with a cotton ball.