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It was two in the afternoon when Sara and the others had woken him. If the bears took her on her way home last night, she’d been their captive for over twelve hours. Her chances of being alive were slim to none. The only prayer was the bears being too keen on fucking with Tom’s head to waste their time killing her. Even if she was alive, he didn’t know what state she would be in.

His only comfort was in his vow to himself. If she were dead, he would follow her after taking as many of the monsters with him as he could.

Twenty Four

Thomas

Astring of curses rang in his mind as he growled. His oversized wolf hands tore at the great pine in front of him. It fell to the ground.

They’d followed seven different trails, each of them a dead end. It was past midnight already. With every hour, the chances of finding Clarissa alive dwindled.

“How are they doing this?” Sam thought.

“I don’t know.” Emmanuel’s thoughts were distraught. He’d always been able to track anything he’d caught scent of; this was causing him to lose faith in his nose.

“Boss,” Sam thought, “your phone is lighting up. It’s Maria.”

Phasing to human, Tom pulled out his cell.

“Maria,” he said.

“Tom, I’m with Sara. You need to get to The Barrel, now.”

Hanging up, he dropped the phone back in the bag. Phasing mid-stride, he ran as fast as he could.

Sara met them in the woods outside The Barrel, sweatpants draped over her arm.

“If anyone drives by, you should probably be dressed.” She tossed them at him.

Pulling them on, he turned to the others. “Stay here and keep a watch out.”

He followed Sara to the parking lot. It was late enough The Barrel was closed, and the front lot was deserted. She took him to a side lot mostly hidden from the road by the trees and the bar.

“Okay, so we did something you won’t like,” she said. “But you should listen before you get too pissed.”

He grumbled. Anything involving Maria doing something he wouldn’t like was bound to be a terrible idea. Walking through the parked cars, he sensed more members of his pack, waiting in their vehicles, lingering in the shadows, milling between the trees.

“Well, hello, handsome,” a silky soprano called out.

“Absolutely not,” he growled.

“Thomas!” Maria yelled.

Maria stood in the parking lot, leaning against a gaudy red car. A woman sat perched on the hood. A long black dress with a slit up her thigh showed off her legs. Her raven hair flowed freely down her back, pooling onto the hood of the car. Her violet eyes fixed on Tom, her lips, painted black, curled into a smirk.

“Thressa,” he said.

“You remembered; I’m flattered,” she purred.

“What is the witch doing here, Maria?”

“She’s here because I called her,” Maria said, “and because she can help.”

“Help?” Tom asked. “Witches are what got us into this situation!”

“The bears you’re tracking made a demon deal, not a witch deal,” Thressa said, fanning her hair out. “Witches were banned from making bear deals forty years ago.”

“Since when do witches do what they’re told?” he asked.