Warm enough in a T-shirt in spite of the damp cold, Jack paused outside the door of the Emporium and wondered what the clear-sight charm would show if it worked both ways. From inside the store, the charm gave the family advance warning on the true form of their customers—a precaution Jack heartily approved of even if none of the customers were a threat to him. From outside, it was just glass. Watching Allie watch the twins build a fort out of old goalie equipment, Jack doubted he and David were the only Gales with another form. Distracted by the family/food scents of flesh and blood, he hadn’t noticed it at first, but nose to any Gale and he could smell damp earth and ancient trees. Nose to Allie, he could smell earth and trees plus asphalt and car exhaust and people. Pancakes and livestock during the stampede. Nose to Charlie, the trees were stronger and sometimes she smelled like cheap beer and new guitar strings; under that a scent unique to Charlie. He’d sniffed a lot of stuff trying to figure out what it was but had never been able to. If she ever got lost, he knew he’d be able to find her.

Of course Charlie would never get lost, so that was pretty useless.

Thing was, after four years working off and on in the store—more off than on, but still—he’d never managed to see a Gale through the charm.

Allie glanced up, frowned, and beckoned him in.

“Where’s Joe?” he asked.

“Down in the basement.”

That explained the noises coming from under the floor. This time. “And Charlie?”

“My grandmother called and . . .”

He snorted, remembering at the last instant to turn his head away from the twins. “She’s gone. That figures.”

“What figures?”

“Like it matters if she says good-bye or fuck off or even acknowledges I might give a flying fuck.”

“Flying!” Evan chorused.

“Fuck!” Edward agreed.

“Sorry.” He cut off Allie’s rebuke before it began, shoved his hands in his pockets, and headed for the back door. Charlie’d taken him with her once, but that didn’t mean she’d ever need or want him with her again. “I’m going hunting.”

Once in the Wood, it didn’t take Charlie long to tease Auntie Catherine’s song from the aunties’ chorus and that meant Auntie Catherine wanted to be found. Convenient, sure, but not exactly comforting. Humming along under her breath, Charlie let the song draw her forward. One step. Two.

Slammed back on her heels by a burst of percussion, she fought for breath against the sudden pressure on her chest.

Jack.