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Playfully, Nova slides her hand up my thigh but stops before she gets high enough that I’m in danger of crashing the hell-damned truck. “I’ll hold you to that,” she whispers.

“If we weren’t doing something super important,” I tell her, trying to stay focussed on the road, “I’d be pulling this truck over, hauling you out, and fucking you on the hood.”

Sighing, Nova takes her hand from my thigh and shuffles in her seat. “We might get lucky,” she says. “Rev could know exactly what’s going on, and then we can have a celebratory hood fuck on the way home.”

I bark out a loud laugh that makes Nova laugh in return.

“Or…” she ventures. “If Rev can’t help, a commiseratory hood fuck.”

“That,” I tell her. “Sounds like an excellent plan.”

“Either way, we get to fuck.”

“Precisely.”

She laughs again, but this time it’s tainted with something sadder. Despite the banter, and the fact I can’t think of a time I wouldn’t be in the mood for devouring Nova’s body, we’re both bullshitting. We’re both scared. And although I know why Nova’s hoping Rev can help, I also know we’re clutching at straws if we think she’ll have an answer that all the doctors and consultants at the hospital don’t.

* * *

Rev answers in a green satin robe, hair wrapped in a matching silk scarf, arms folded grumpily in front of her. “It’s late. You guys can’t call first?” Before either of us can answer, she adds, “Let me guess… shit’s going down, and it’s urgent?”

Nova nods and offers an apologetic smile that softens Rev’s expression.

“All right,” she says. “I’ll put the kettle on. You talk.”

Inside, Nova and I settle at the table. “Nico’s not here?” she asks, scanning the room.

No. He’s not. I can’t feel him, and I always feel him when he’s close. The hellhound that lives inside him now is impossible not to feel. It is rage, and anger, and bloodlust. And it amazes me that he’s managing to keep it under control.

“Long story.” Rev smiles reassuringly as she takes the kettle off the stove. “Nothing bad, don’t worry,” she tells Nova. “But something tells me what you’ve got going on is a bit more… pressing.”

Nodding, accepting a mug of Rev’s latest herbal concoction, Nova explains what happened to Mack and Snow. Rev listens intently, hands wrapped around her own mug, leaning back against the counter.

“Shit,” she says matter-of-factly. “That’s not good.”

Nova exhales loudly, her shoulders drooping.

“Any ideas what might be going on?” I wrinkle my nose at the contents of my own mug. I swear these teas get worse instead of better.

Setting down her mug, Rev begins to pace up and down the small stretch of kitchen between the countertop and the table where Nova and I are sitting. “Well, I think you’re right about it being something to do with the separation. But my knowledge of shifters is next to useless. Didn’t anyone at the hospital…?” She trails off when she notices me shaking my head. “No, of course they didn’t.”

“It could have been a one-off.” Nova is staring into her tea, talking more to herself than to us. “They might be fine now.”

“Maybe,” Rev says, deep in thought. “But either way, this is probably a sign that you guys should look into it a bit more.” She shrugs, taking another sip from her steaming mug. “I mean, we all just kind of accepted that Mack and Snow are separate now. But this has never happened before, and we don’t know enough about it to know what the long-term effects might be.”

“Where would we even start?” I stretch out my legs, crossing them at the ankles. “Werewolves… we can deal with. There are wolf experts in every supernatural hospital in the country. And wolf clinics all over Eastern Europe. Shifters? Bear shifters? Not so many experts in that field.”

“Isn’t it the same kind of thing?” Nova asks tentatively. “Surely their biology can’t be so different from the wolves’ biology?”

“Oh, you’d be surprised,” Rev says. “I visited my aunt in England a few years ago, and she took me to an exhibit at the underground occult museum. It was fascinating. They had…” She trails off, and her aura changes instantly.

Brightens.

“My aunt…” Rev whispers. “She works at the anthropology museum in Cambridge. There’s a professor there. He curated the exhibition.” She taps her temple as if she’s trying to nudge a memory to the forefront of her mind. “Lucien Thornfield.”

“He knows about shifters?” Nova inches forward in her chair, studying Rev’s face.

“I’m not saying that,” Rev replies. “It’s a long shot. But I have a feeling…” She closes her eyes, tilts her head from one side to the other. She sees in a different way to Kole; where he gets vivid snatches of the future, Rev knows things without having a concrete reason for knowing them. When she opens her eyes again, she nods. “I have a feeling Thornfield can help in some way.”