He returned to the guard shack and found it empty. Nothing but the rope and tape that had been used to bind the old man and falcon remained in hastily tossed heaps on the floor. The small carrying case that held the miniature wands was also gone. If his suspicions were correct, the falcon had found a way to get the old man to strap the case onto its back. A clever design for a clever bird.

Clever and odd.

There was something about that bird that didn’t add up, but he was certain now that the bird was working with Coralis. That old fool had been in hibernation so long he’d thought he might have actually given up. But one look at the wand Henry exposed while they were together in his father’s study told him otherwise.

Malachai recalled the fortuitous fate that led him to meet Henry’s father. Little did Malachai know at the time that it would provide a connection directly to Coralis. The matter of young Henry was disturbing … yet exciting. It was obvious he possessed power—raw, untrained, unfocused, and to Malachai’s delight, slightly tinged with darkness.

He stepped back into the last dusky minutes of daylight. The disabled truck was still parked where Malachai had left it, the electrical system fried from a burst of wand energy. There was no way the old man could reach civilization in time to bring back reinforcements. Dai She’s plan would proceed … as would Malachai’s.

He smiled and scanned the skies. No sign of the falcon.

But the smile abruptly faded. He quickly paced around the exterior of the shack, hopeful that he was wrong, cursing himself for the oversight. The grounds were totally void of any signs of life. No falcon … no old man …

No Viktor.

Randall was in trouble. He landed next to a black sage shrub and sought protection underneath it while he worked out the cramp in his wing. The old guard had been terrified—which had made it easy to influence him into fastening the wand case to Randall’s back. But it was on just a little too tight. Normally that wouldn’t be a problem, but he’d been bound so long, and bounced around in such awkward positions, that his wings were not functioning properly. He was dehydrated as well, which caused more cramping.

He could maintain short bursts of speed, but was having difficulty gaining altitude. And without height, he couldn’t get into the thermal currents that would help him glide.

He was stretching his wings and rotating them backward when he noticed a lone smudge far overhead. He knew immediately that Viktor had followed him.