Michael scowled at my coarse phrasing, but since Manx’s comprehension of English didn’t extend very far into colloquialism, I thought it best to speak plainly. And when she nodded in understanding, I shot my brother a mild look of triumph, the most I could muster in the face of so much tragedy.
“I must thank him.” Manx placed her bandaged hands awkwardly in her lap and stared at them. “His Pride was very kind to me and to my son. We will accept his offer, after the service.” For Ethan.
Sinking into an overstuffed armchair, my brother opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, the back door opened, and several sets of footsteps clomped into the central hallway. Moments later, Dr. Carver appeared in the living room doorway, with Owen, Jace, and Dan at his back.Owen and Carver greeted Michael with brief hugs and sympathetic thumps on the back—more masculine versions of the somber greeting I’d gotten, while Dan stood back awkwardly, not sure where he fit in.
“Manx.” Dr. Carver’s gaze found the young dam immediately. “May I take a look at your hands?”
The tabby nodded and stood, then looked to my mother when she rose, still holding the baby. “Would you put Des down for his nap?”
“Of course.” She followed Manx into the hall, but I called out to the doctor before he disappeared around the corner.
“Doc, when you’re done with Manx, could you give Kaci a once-over?”
“I’d be glad to.” He smiled gently, and I knew he understood my hurry. “And, Dan, if you’ll come with me, I’ll take one more look at your back.”
Dan followed the doctor reluctantly, and when they’d disappeared into Manx’s room, Michael glanced at those of us remaining. “Anyone else need a drink?”
My father nodded gravely, then led the way into his office, where the small bar stood against the far wall. “Scotch, please,” he said, when his oldest son headed straight for the collection of bottles.
Michael opened a new bottle and poured an inch into several glasses, then distributed the first two to Dad and Owen. “So, do we have a plan?”
I handed a glass to Jace, then took a seat on the sofa.
“We go in after the funeral.” My father followed his decree with a long sip from his glass, as if such a statement required a little fortification.
“How many of us?”
“Everyone who isn’t looking for Marc.” I shook my head when Michael offered me a glass of Scotch. I couldn’t afford to compromise my judgment again. Not after what had happened the last time. “Unless we’ve found him by then.” I resisted an urge to glance at Jace, and kept my gaze trained on my brother instead. “And Parker, Vic, and Jace will go in with you either way.”
Jace nodded in confirmation of his part. He would help search for Marc as long as he could, but he wouldn’t give up the opportunity to avenge his best friend’s death. And I hoped desperately that neither of us would have to choose between the two.
Michael sipped from his glass. “Any leads on Marc yet?”
“Just this.” I dug the microchip from my front pocket, sealed in a snack-size plastic bag, and tossed it to him.
He caught it one-handed and held it up to the light. “What is this?”
“It’s a GPS locator chip Dr. Carver removed from Dan’s back, and it’s just like the one we think Marc dug out of his kidnapper’s body. It looks like he found the scar on Eckard’s back when he was taking the corpse’s clothes, and recognized it from the one he’d seen on Dan.” Michael’s eyes narrowed and his mouth opened, but before he could ask a question, I held up one palm to stop him. “Wait, it gets weirder. Ben Feldman, one of the strays we questioned in Marc’s disappearance, showed us an identical chip he’d found in his own back. And he has no idea how it got there.”
“You’re serious?” Michael glanced from face to somber face, and when we all nodded, he sank back onto the love seat opposite me, slack with surprise and confusion. “Who did this? And how on earth were they implanted without anyone knowing about it?”
“We’re sure Kevin’s involved.” I reached for the now-lukewarm coffee I’d brought with me from the living room.
“And we’re almost certain he’s working for either Calvin Malone or his own father,” my dad added.
“And as for how they were implanted…” I continued. “The strays were taken one at a time. Sedated, then probably implanted under general anesthesia, which would explain why they don’t remember anything. And that also reinforces the theory that Kevin’s working with a Pride.” Because we didn’t know of any stray physicians, but each Pride employed at least one doctor.
“We also think they were forced to Shift a couple of times, to heal the wound before they were released. All of the implanted strays are missing at least a day’s worth of memories. But no one ever put it together, because none of them knew anyone else had suffered the same memory loss.”
“Wow.” Michael glanced at the microchip again, now balanced on his palm in its clear bag. “So, Kevin’s helping someone on the council spy on strays in the free zone? After what happened in Montana, I’d guess they’re tracking individuals and monitoring gatherings. And if Malone’s involved, I would assume the goal is ultimately either some sort of police state or extermination.”
My stomach churned at the thought.
“And we think Marc thinks he’s the only one who knows about it. He’s probably trying to get back to us with evidence—the chip he cut out of Eckard.”
Michael’s thunderstruck expression darkened into a look of doubt, tinged with pity. “How long has Marc been missing?”
I glanced at my watch, but Jace beat me to the proverbial punch. “Almost fifty hours.”
“Two days?” Michael eyed me now with gentle concern. “Faythe…”
“Don’t say it.” I glared at him, daring him to contradict me. “He’s alive. I’d know if he were dead.”
My father cleared his throat, and all eyes turned his way. “We’re assuming he’s alive, at least for the next ten hours. After the sixty-hour point, Dr. Carver says his chances drop dramatically, considering that he’s alone, injured, and has lost a lot of blood. And that the temperature has yet to rise above freezing.”
My mouth went dry, and my first attempt at speech failed miserably. So I tried again. “And after sixty hours?”
My dad looked down. He actually avoided my eyes, for the first time that I could remember.
“Daddy, what happens after sixty hours?” I demanded, scooting to the edge of the couch, trying to pin him with my gaze.
My father was exhausted, and devastated, and beyond angry at the world that had taken his son, and might yet take Marc from us. But he was still the Alpha. And finally, in true Alpha form, he looked up, pain and pity swimming in his eyes while his features held their usual firm acceptance of the inevitable. “After sixty hours, we assume we’re looking for a body.”
I couldn’t breathe. My hands shook, and cold coffee sloshed over my fingers to drip on my jeans. Then the mug was lifted gently from my hands, and Jace’s scent washed over me.“It’s okay,” he whispered, setting the mug on the end table to my left. “There’s still time to find him. And people assuming Marc’s dead doesn’t make him dead. How often does Marc hold to the status quo?”
“Not very often.” I could barely hear my own voice, but Jace heard me, and over his shoulder, I saw my father and brothers watching me in varying degrees of grief and sympathy.
Jace nodded, smiling briefly. “So why should death be any different for him?”
I smiled back, and thanked him silently with a squeeze of his hand. Jace was right. Just because they thought we’d be looking for a corpse didn’t mean we would be.
He stepped back when I nodded, telling him I was okay. “Fine.” I looked up, and felt my gaze harden as it traveled over the faces watching me. “We’ll do it your way. But in the meantime, we can’t do anything about Kevin and whoever he’s working for without proof that they’re involved.” My focus shifted to my oldest brother. “Michael, do you think you can do anything with that chip?” I gestured to the bag he still clutched. “Ben Feldman says it’s not commercially available yet, so we need to know where it came from. And who bought it, if possible.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” he said, when our father nodded in support of my request.
Part of me felt guilty for taking their thoughts away from Ethan in the immediate aftermath of his death, but the rest of me knew that—like me—they were better off with something constructive to take up their attention. Something to work on. Some way to impose order on the world, even as it seemed poised to crumble beneath us all.
“Good.” I nodded, satisfied for the moment. “If we can prove that trail leads back to Kevin, Feldman will tell us where to find him, and the council can’t refuse to indict him. Not if they still claim to be honorable, anyway.”
Michael opened the plastic bag, already on his way to the computer on our father’s desk, mumbling about serial numbers and credit card receipts.
I stood, struggling to hold back tears as the weight of Dr. Carver’s deadline finally truly hit me. “Now, unless you have something else for me to do, I’m going back to Mississippi to find Marc.”