The portal was growing wider. There was chanting as gathered individuals worked to lock the creature away. And then I saw the ritual circle that bound it. Whoever was helping the Collector now would use some form of that to help it return. I tried to memorize every detail of the thing.
"Lia!" Dani's voice snapped me back to reality. I was slumped against the SUV, my legs shaking like a newborn colt's. "You with us?"
"Yeah," I croaked. My throat was raw like I'd been screaming, which I probably had been. "I saw Congo Square and the binding circle. The Collector's helper will have to build another one there to open the portal."
I looked around, trying to get my bearings. Margot stood a few feet away, trembling like a leaf in a hurricane. Her arms were wrapped around herself so tightly, I was surprised she could still breathe. Her sedan's driver-side door hung open, and I could see the spider web of cracks where her windshield had been hit.
In the ditch beside the road, the Rougarou lay motionless. Its matted fur was stained with something dark. That wasn'tmud. The blessed salt and iron had burned straight through to whatever passed for its vital organs.
"How the hell did you manage to kill it?" I asked Dre, who was cleaning her dagger on a rag that looked like it had seen better decades.
"Salt and iron stunned it, but it wasn't enough," she said. "The thing shook it off and came back for round two. Kota had to shift into her dragon form to finish the job. One swipe of those claws and it was lights out for our furry friend there."
I glanced over at Kota, who was smoothing a shirt she hadn’t been wearing before. Thank the gods for her ability to manifest things, or she would be naked. My heart skipped a beat when I noticed she winced and was favoring her left side. The Rougarou must have gotten in a few good hits before she had ended it.
Margot flinched at the mention of her name. Her eyes darted toward the people huddled in her car, then to the dead creature, then away like she couldn't bear to look but couldn't stop herself either. The terror was still raw and fresh, and I could practically see her mind cataloging every shadow, every dark corner, and every place another one of those things could be hiding.
"We need to get to the plantation," I said, pushing myself off the SUV. "Now. Before something else decides you look like dinner."
"Yes, please," she whispered, speaking up for the first time since we'd arrived. Her voice was barely audible, like she was afraid raising it might attract more predators.
"Follow me," I told her as I walked around to the driver's side of my SUV. "Stay close, and if you see anything that doesn't look right, lay on the horn."
She was in her car before I was. The drive to Willowberry Plantation felt like it took forever, even though we made it in less than three minutes. Every shadow between the trees looked like it could be hiding something with too many teeth and notenough humanity. It was impossible to relax until I pulled into my usual spot.
"Oh, thank the gods. You saved them," Cyran said the second we stepped out of the car. He'd been pacing near the edge of the parking area like a caged animal. Lucas and Noah flanked him with several other shifters. The latter were busy scanning the tree line. They were ready in case something nasty came charging out of the darkness.
"We don't have time for pleasantries," I replied bluntly. "We need to get your extended family to safety here. It’s going to be the best way to protect them until we can stop whoever is behind this."
Cyran gestured toward the covered portico that connected the summer kitchen to the main house, where we kept our outdoor dining tables. "Everyone I could reach is already here," he said. "They're not all happy about it, but they're here. There are a handful of others on their way."
The group huddled under the portico looked like a cross between a family reunion and a support group for people with trust issues. There were maybe fifty people total, ranging from teenagers to grandparents. Their fear and confusion were palpable. A few were shooting suspicious glances everywhere, making it obvious they weren't sure who they could trust. Considering recent events, it was probably smart.
"Ladies and gentlemen," I called out, stepping forward to address the group. The murmur of nervous conversation died down as people turned toward me. "If we could have your attention, please."
Dre moved up beside me. I could feel Dea, Dani, Phi, and Kota forming a loose semicircle behind us. United front and all that.
"We know this is an unusual situation," Dre said, picking up the thread. "But we want you to know that we're doingeverything in our power to ensure your safety. The plantation has protections in place that have kept our guests secure under various threats. We have houses at the back of the property for you to use. It’ll be tight quarters, but the Collector and his minions won’t be able to reach you here."
"What kind of protections?" asked a woman in her forties. She was clutching a teenager close to her side.
"Ones Phoebe, the Pleiades, and Kaitlyn helped us establish," Dre said with a smile that managed to be both reassuring and slightly dangerous. "And we’ve added to them as we have faced different enemies. Trust us when we say that as long as you're on Willowberry property, you're as safe as we can make you."
I caught Cyran's eye and nodded toward the group. This was his family, his circus, his monkeys. He needed to take point on keeping them calm and cooperative while we figured out who we could trust and who might be planning to stab us in the back. He stepped forward smoothly. His natural charisma kicked in as he began explaining the situation in terms that wouldn't send anyone running for the hills.
I let him take over, using the distraction to study the faces gathered under the soft glow of the string lights we'd hung. A familiar prickle along my spine hit me. One that meant my instincts were screaming danger. I had always been good at reading people. It was why I went into social work as a career. I could always pick up on the little tells that gave people away. And right now, my alarm bells were going off like a smoke detector in a house fire.
Three people in the crowd weren't just nervous about the supernatural threat we'd described. They were nervous aboutus. About being here. About being caught. Well, shit.
"Excuse me," I said, approaching a thin man in his sixties with silver hair and nervous eyes. "I couldn't help but notice your necklace. Where did you get it?"
His hand flew to his throat, covering the bone amulet. "It’s an old family heirloom. Nothing special."
"Mind if I take a look?" Dea stepped forward with her most disarming smile. She had a way of making people comfortable. Actually, her empathy not only set others at ease but often made them happy. "I collect antique jewelry."
"I'd rather not." The man backed toward the parking lot. "Actually, I should go check on my nephew."
The other two, who also seemed to be worried about being caught, were also amulet-wearers. A few feet away, we could hear them making their excuses and heading to the parking lot. Within minutes, all three had fled into the night, leaving the rest of us staring after them.
