“We rose from the ashes,” he murmured.
They’d been fortunate. So many who burned never came back. His dead first wife being one of them.
“Do you ever think about what’s next?” Tayla asked.
He cocked an eyebrow. “For whom?”
“Us.” She shrugged, a slow roll of the shoulder that bore her mate’sdermoire. “The world. I mean. Shit’s been quiet for a while. We haven’t faced an apocalypse in like, thirty years. It’s kinda freaking me out.”
“You forgot about the hell rift beneath Stryke’s oil rig in the North Sea a couple months ago.”
“Oh, yeah.” She grabbed the leftover documents on the desk. “Since Stryke handled most of it and the damage was minimal, I never remember to include it.”
She seemed disappointed.
“Don’t worry,” he said cheerily, “I’m sure there’s something catastrophic right around the corner. And I think you’re forgetting that Azagoth destroyed Sheoul-gra and released millions—maybe billions—of evil souls. The worst ones have yet to be captured. I predict lots of potential apocalypses in the future.”
“Thank you.” Grinning, she started for the doorway. “You always see the bright side in any situation.”
He just shook his head. Demons. Kill them or marry them, you’d never understand them.
Chapter 4
They arrived at the Fairbanks hotel a few minutes after six p.m. local time. The wilderness-themed establishment was busy with summer tourists, but the two Seattle-office DART guys had reserved a conference room just off the lobby.
Scotty had known Skoll for most of her life, but mostly as an acquaintance. His father, Luc, was a paramedic at Underworld General, so Blade and Mace had spent more time around him than she had. A tall, tawny-haired male with broad shoulders and intense, crystal-blue eyes, he turned all the girls’ heads.
Scotty had never seen the other guy, Jon, before. He was maybe an inch taller than Skoll, with dark hair and a bullish build that reminded her of her father. She’d bet that when he shifted into a bear, he was massive.
Skoll was friendly enough, offering handshakes and sticks of his cinnamon gum, but Jon was warier, hanging back to study them as if they might be the enemy and not colleagues.
But then, Blade did the same thing. Not Mace, though. Nope, he made himself the life of the party right away, buying a round of tequila shots and ordering moose meat nachos and fries smothered in elk gravy.
“Good to see you guys again,” Skoll said, after a few minutes of catching up and small talk. And maybe it was her imagination, but she swore his gaze lingered on her for longer than her teammates. Of course, hehadbeen a little flirty the last time she’d seen him, a few weeksago at Runa’s birthday celebration. “Harrowgates are scarce here, so we got a rental vehicle to get us as close to the cabin as possible. We’ll give you the basics right now and will fill you in on the rest during the drive.”
“Kynan mentioned a cabin.” Mace yanked a chair out from under the table across from her and plopped down on it backward, using the back to prop up his arms. “What’s up with that?”
“Belongs to the guy who first reported the wendigo activity. Nathan Mitchell. Former Aegi. It’s his place. We lost contact with him a week ago.”
“Aegi?” Blade took a seat at the table next to her like a normal person. “Why did he report this to DART instead of The Aegis?”
A server came over with their food and drinks, and Jon waited until the guy was gone before replying. “He did report it to The Aegis, but they didn’t believe him. Told him to contact us, because we ‘love wild goose chases.’”
Sounded about right. The Aegis was full of assholes.
“Kynan said people have gone missing.” Scotty frowned at the taxidermized dead animals mounted around the room. Demon heads would look better. “Did Nathan know them?”
“He knew two of the missing. They were off-grid prepper buddies. Ironically, they moved up north to avoid demons.” Skoll took a couple of photos out of a file and slid them into the center of the table. “Jason Steele and Gary Lewis. Steele was an Alaskan native who returned a few years ago after separating from the army, and Lewis moved here from Missouri after his divorce.”
Scotty glanced at the photos of the men, both of whom appeared to be in their late forties or early fifties. Outfitted in survival gear and carrying rifles, they looked like they could take care of themselves.
“And Nathan is the only person who has seen a wendigo?” Mace plucked a nacho off the serving plate. “How do we know he didn’t off his buddies and make up the wendigo story to cover his tracks?”
“We don’t.” Jon’s deep baritone echoed through the room, and Scotty shivered in feminine appreciation. Blade’s voice was similar, rumbling and gruff. Mace’s too, but usually only when he was injured, hungover, or lusting after a female. “That’s why we’re investigating.”
Scotty snagged a fry dripping with dark-brown gravy and shredded meat. “How long will it take to get to the cabin?”
“It’s an eight-hour drive to the trailhead.” Skoll popped a jalapeño into his mouth.
