Kelley Armstrong - Stolen

Houdini didn't turn, just extended his middle finger in the air and kept walking. Lock-pick guy glanced at the dumpster again, then peered down the south alley. Unless he was night-blind, he should have seen us. But he didn't. He snapped something to the third man and they took off after Houdini.

When they were out of earshot, Ruth leaned toward me and whispered, "Cover spell. I would have mentioned it, but there wasn't time."

I listened to the retreating footsteps, waited until they were gone, then turned to her. "It worked, but I don't suppose you have something a bit more disabling in that bag of tricks, in case they come back."

Ruth chuckled. "Sorry. Our spells are designed for defense, not offense."

"We have some aggressive spells," Paige said. "But they take time to prepare."

Ruth's mouth tightened. "We don't use them. That's not our way."

I remembered what Houdini said about witches. Personally, I'd rather stop my attackers permanently, but witches seemed to have a different philosophy.

Thinking of Houdini, I had to ask, "What was that guy?"

"Half-demon with teleport abilities," Paige said. "Limited range, probably no more than five to ten feet. Offspring of a minor demon, hence the diluted power. My guess is that's the best Winsloe and his bunch have. That's why they want better specimens."

"Specimens?" I said.

"We'll explain at the meeting," Ruth said. "Right now we need to get someplace safe."

"I can get us over the dumpster," I said. "Messy, but safer than heading back to the hotel."

Ruth nodded and we hurried up the alley. Going over the dumpster wasn't the most pleasant route, but it was easy enough. A six-foot jump was nothing for a werewolf. Neither was hauling up two average-sized women. The stench was the worst of it, enough to make me lose my appetite, which was a feat in itself. We made it down the other side without hearing a sound from the other alley. Our pursuers were long gone.

Once over the dumpster, I followed my nose to an all-night doughnut shop. We managed to sneak through the parking lot and scoot into the washroom without attracting attention. I bought coffee and doughnuts and took them into the washroom where Paige and Ruth were cleaning up. While they ate, I snuck through the door labeled "employees only" and raided the staff lockers for clothes. I wasn't sure what would fit, but anything had to be better than nightgowns, so I grabbed what I found and took it into the bathroom. We agreed it was time to split up.

"Take care," Ruth said as I prepared to leave. "Watch your back and go straight to the airport. We'll see you at the meeting."

I hesitated, not wanting to leave the impression that by joining them that evening, I was ready to join their meeting, but Ruth had already turned away and started talking to Paige. So I murmured my goodbyes and left.

I returned to my hotel and told the desk clerk I'd gone for an early jog and left my card-key upstairs. He escorted me up to my room, opened it, and waited while I pretended to be looking for the card-key, actually checking for hidden guests. Once he left, I grabbed my stuff, got out, caught a cab to the airport, and called Jeremy.

By the time I called Jeremy, my brain had shifted into overdrive. While I'd been running and worrying about escaping, I hadn't had time to think much about what I was seeing. Now I had too much time, and my mind took full advantage of it. Witches and binding spells. Teleporting demons and armed militia men. Tranquilizer guns and kidnapping plans. Whatever happened to the good old days when all I had to worry about was crazed mutts? Werewolves I could handle. But this? What the hell was this?

I blurted the whole story to Jeremy in a semi-coherent rush of words, thankful I'd found a private phone booth and didn't need to worry about watching what I said. Jeremy waited until I was done, paused to make sure there wasn't more, then said, "That doesn't sound good."

I had to laugh. As I did, I felt the tension ease from my neck and shoulders, and relaxed for the first time that day. Typical Jeremy. Master of understatement. I could have told him a nuclear warhead had escaped from Russia and was heading for New York and he'd have said the same thing in the same calm, unruffled tone.

"And no," I said, "I haven't been drinking or ingesting illegal narcotics."

He chuckled. "I believe you. Where are you now?"

"At the airport."

"Good. Don't fly to Syracuse. Buy a ticket for Buffalo and watch out for curious onlookers. I'll meet you at the airport."

By the time my plane touched down, I'd relaxed enough to feel pretty foolish about calling Jeremy in a near-panic and making him drive nearly three hours to Buffalo. There must be a logical, nonsupernatural explanation for what I'd seen last night. I didn't know what it might be, but I was sure it existed.

As the crowd of disembarking passengers carried me into the waiting area, I looked over their heads for Jeremy and spotted him immediately. At six-two, Jeremy might not be the tallest guy in the room, but he usually stood a few inches above his neighbors, high enough for me to catch a glimpse of black eyes topped by arching black brows and black bangs always a few weeks overdue for a cut. When he'd last condescended to let me cut his hair, I'd noticed the first strands of white. Not surprising considering Jeremy was fifty-two. We aged slowly-Jeremy looked in his mid-thirties-and he was probably past due for some gray, but I'd still teased him unmercifully. With Jeremy, any flaw was worth picking up on. He didn't have nearly enough of them.

When he finally saw me, his lips curved in the barest of smiles, then he nodded and waited for me to come to him. Typical.

"Okay," I said as I drew up beside him. "Tell me I overreacted."

He took my bag. "Certainly not. Far better than ignoring it and, say, not calling me as soon as you found out about these women."

"Sorry."

He waved off the apology. "We're on top of it now. We're heading straight to Vermont. I've packed our bags. It doesn't seem wise to return to Stonehaven until we know more about this threat."

"So we're going to the meeting?"

"We don't have much choice. These wi-women seem to have all the answers."

"So we're getting information from them, not joining them?"

Jeremy chuckled. "You sound relieved. Don't worry, Elena. The Pack doesn't need any outside help."

"I tried calling Clay from the airport, but he was out. I left a message saying we needed to talk to him. Should I try him now?"

"He got your message and called home. I explained what happened. I think it's best if he doesn't join us for this meeting. Somehow I doubt he'd be on his best behavior."

"I can see it now. Charging into the meeting, demanding answers, and threatening to throw someone out the nearest window if those answers don't come fast enough. And that would be his best behavior."

"Exactly. Not quite the entrance I had in mind. So I downplayed the danger and told him you and I could handle it. I'll keep him updated, and if things prove difficult, he can join us."

"What about Nick and Antonio? They're in Europe for another two weeks."

"Three," he said. "I phoned and told Tonio to be on the alert. If we need them, we'll call. Otherwise, even if this threat is real, Europe may be the best place for them. Out of danger."

"So it's just the two of us."

Another chuckle. "I'm sure we'll survive."

We spent the night at a cottage Jeremy had rented in Vermont. Despite the busy season, he'd managed to find a place where the original guests had canceled their reservation at the last minute. Not only was it in a secluded, wooded region, but it surpassed "suitable" and approached perfect, a lakeside chalet far from vacationer traffic. I'd have been lucky to get us reservations at a third-rate highway motel. Trust Jeremy to find Eden with less than a day's notice.