“Busy!” the inquisitor barks back.
In answer, our guest knocks again, and he groans as his chair scrapes across the concrete floor, and he rises from his seat.
“These idiots,” he mutters, opening the door just enough to shout at them through. “What don’t you underst?—”
“Don’t speak.”
A low, accented voice says from the other side, and I grin as I watch Dred push past the frantic inquisitor. He is clawing at his throat, mouth moving, but no sound comes out as he tries and fails to counter Dred’s weave.
“Sit.”
Dred commands him, and the inquisitor obeys, dropping into the empty chair with a thud, still mouthing angry words and pointing at him with an unmatched fury.
“Yeah, mate.” Dred pats his shoulder. “We get it, settle down.”
The inquisitor quiets, and I rise to my feet just as Dame ducks under the low door with Kitty close on his heels.
“Can we speed this up?” he says, panting.
“Some of those guys back there are tougher than they look,” Kitty finishes, though she doesn’t look like she’s broken much of a sweat.
“The fuck are you guys doing?” I ask. “Do you have any idea the shit they’re going to put us through for this?”
“I cannot express how much I don’t give a fuck,” Dame says, holding out his phone.
It displays an ongoing call with Iris, currently on mute and ticking past minute nine. There’s a slight rustling coming from the other end, and everyone stills as we all focus in on the sound.
Faintly, almost imperceptible, if not for the blessing of supernatural hearing, Iris’s voice seeps through the speaker. Her voice is clenched, controlled, and she’s speaking to someone. A man whose words I can’t make out. But I don’t need to know what’s being said. I recognize the strain in her throat and the slow cadence of her carefully selected words. She’s afraid, and there’s only one person Iris is afraid of at the moment—our new friend.
Rage rips through me, sparking the wolf to rise to the surface, but the dampener keeps him at bay, and my head begins to pound from the effort of swallowing back my power.
“Where?” I growl.
“I don’t know,” Dame says. “I can’t catch her scent. I figured you could, since she’s tied to you.”
I shake my head.
“He’s masking it. That’s how he’s been sneaking around all this time. Whatever he’s using is better than mint and unicorn horn. I can’t trace a single thread. Dred, you can’t hear her?”
“Wherever she is, it’s too far. And I’m at my limit holding all these idiots.” He gestures at the inquisitor sitting content in his chair. “But I could kill ‘em and free up some space.”
Dred shrugs as the rest of us shake our heads at his suggestion.
“What about Elsie?” Kitty asks. “She can find her.”
“We don’t have time to hunt down Elsie!” I bark, starting to pace. “Fuck!”
“We don’t have to hunt her down,” Dame says, setting his phone on the table.
He lifts his shirt, revealing a large tattoo over his chest that was not there a few days ago, and Kitty and I frown as he rips a tear in his palm with his teeth and places his hand over the dark markings.
“Is that blood magic?” Kitty murmurs.
But nobody has time to consider the implications of that as Elsie materializes in the room, directly in front of Dame.
“Hi,” Dame says softly, thumbing her cheek.
“Hi,” Elsie answers, frowning. “What’re you?—”
